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Cornell University Library 
 PR6015.E21S8 
 
 Strangers in the land / 
 
 3 1924 011 124 447 
 
PR 
 
 ^O IS 
 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARIES 
 
 riHACA. N. Y. 14853 
 
 John M. Echols 
 
 Collection on Southeast Asia 
 
 JOHN M. OLIN LIBRARY 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924011124447 
 
'ELSPETH, PUTTING HER ARM ROUND HER FRIEND'b WAIST, 
 LOOKED AT HIM" 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 BY 
 
 ETHEL F. HEDDLE 
 
 Author of "An Original Girl" "A Mystery of St. Rule's" &c. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED EDITION 
 With Eight Full-Page Plata h HAROLD COPPING 
 
 BlaCkie and son limited 
 
 LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN 
 1904 
 
TO 
 
 MY DEAR FRIENDS 
 KLISB VAN DEN BEOEK D'OBRENAN 
 
 AND 
 
 SOPHIE RUDBMANN; 
 
 A TOKEN OF 
 GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CEAP. Page 
 
 I. At the Zbnana Work Paktt 1 
 
 II. The Unfinished Letter 15 
 
 III. Me. Tubbs's Nephew 22 
 
 rV. Waiter's "Fcheow" 31 
 
 v. Through the "Portals op Apfliotion" 43 
 
 VI. Uninvited Guests 58 
 
 VII. In the Veranda 69 
 
 VIII. In the Sidjokarta Market 83 
 
 IX. Apter-Dinner Conpidences 94 
 
 X. A Lonely Child 104 
 
 XI. The Whttb Beans 118 
 
 XII. The Black Hand 132 
 
 XIII. A Snake in the G-babs 143 
 
 Xrv. The Dead Horse 157 
 
 XV. "A REED WHICH GROWS NEVER MORE AGAIN" 169 
 
 XVI. Madame's Trust 182 
 
 XVII. Tracking Eascila 195 
 
 XVIII. Nami's Despair 209 
 
 XIX. To THE Unknown God 221 
 
 XX. Man Proposes 235 
 
 Tii 
 
Vm CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. Page 
 
 XXI. Lion's Bescce 2S3 
 
 XXII. The Floods Come 262 
 
 XXIII. Rbdjo's Eeturn 279 
 
 XXIV. Daek Days 289 
 
 XXV. The Peril Draws Near 302 
 
 XXVI. "Save us, or we Perish!" 316 
 
 XXVII. A Night op Terror 329 
 
 XXVIII. "The West a-oallino" 343 
 
 XXIX. Mrs. Walter Herbert 350 
 
 XXX. Dice's Letter 364 
 
 XXXI. Van Delden gives his Blessing 375 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Page 
 "ELSPETH, PUTTING HER ARM ROUND HER FRIEND'S WAIST, 
 
 LOOKED AT HIM" Frontispiece 191 
 
 "VAN DELDEN GASPED AND RUMPLED UP HIS EXCEEDINGLY 
 
 STRAIGHT hair" 64 
 
 '"i begin to realise what heat can be,' she said, 
 'even with my delightful umbrella'" 87 
 
 " his attention wavered a little as the bubbling 
 laugh rippled out once more" 95 
 
 " he stood looking at her after she had walked 
 away" 152 
 
 "he stood silent beside her, his head a little bent" - 250 
 
 "he was slowly ploughing his way through the 
 
 WATER " 274 
 
 "SHE STOOPED AND GENTLY PUT HER HAND ON HIS FORE- 
 HEAD " 336 
 ix 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 As Miss Lavender said afterwards, it was an ex- 
 traordinary thing to think that everything should 
 have emanated from the Zenana Work Party! 
 For one does not usually expect to find germs 
 of adventure — and adventure beyond the dreams 
 of any resident in Drelinford-on-Dribble — in the 
 church-room of a parish church, visited solely by 
 the venerable and respected clergy of the diocese, 
 the congregation of St. Barnabas, and the ladies 
 of the various alphabetical societies connected 
 therewith. Miss Lavender Bouverie and her 
 sister, Miss Horatio, familiarly known as " the 
 Tabbies", belonged to all these societies, being 
 pillars of St. Barnabas; and Miss Lavender used 
 to get hopelessly mixed in speaking of the various 
 Y.W.C.A.'s, C.E.'s, and LY.W.'s (read Young 
 Women's Christian Association, Christian Endea- 
 vour, and Industrious Young Women). But then 
 the good little lady was usually in a state of per- 
 plexed bewilderment about something, so there 
 
 (b30) 1 A 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 was no wonder at that. Drelinford was used to 
 Miss Lavender, and generally Miss Horatio was 
 present, to hold up sign-posts, as it were, as to 
 what society her sister was discussing, or as to 
 whose grandfather she referred. Miss Lavender's 
 conversation always took kangaroo - like leaps, 
 which were rather disconcerting to a stranger. 
 
 Both ladies, of course, attended the work party, 
 though Miss Lavender had once enquired inno- 
 cently what a zenana was. She said she always 
 mixed it up with pyjama and veranda, a hopeless 
 confusion of ideas which, as Horatio said after- 
 wards, would really have made her blush if anyone 
 except the two Miss Tibbits had been present. 
 Horatio sewed well, using always very strong 
 thread, and " fastening off " with a determination 
 and a finality which boded ill to the person who 
 should ever attempt to undo her work. Her 
 sewing, she was wont to say, would last the time 
 of the cloth. I should have said she sewed for 
 eternity, by the look of the thread and the 
 stitches. 
 
 Miss Lavender, on the other hand, was always 
 given something very simple. She used to get 
 hopelessly confused over knickerbockers, and in- 
 variably sewed up the ends. After a tragedy of 
 this kind, twice repeated, Miss Tibbits the elder, 
 who cut out for the party, said, aside to Miss 
 
At the Zenana Work Party- 
 Lucy, that tlie poor creature should be given a 
 duster to hem, or a garter to knit. " The natives 
 don't wear garters, or use dusters, but we could 
 keep them for the bazaar," she said, " and we could 
 pretend the duster was some kind of an apron, 
 so as not to hurt her feelings." 
 
 On this gloomy February day the party were 
 assembled as usual, and the gas had just been 
 lit. Some of the good ladies did not see as well 
 as they once did, and there had been a little dis- 
 cussion as to whether they should light the gas, 
 it being scarcely four o'clock. Truth to say, a 
 good deal of discussion went on in the work party. 
 Sometimes they wrangled politely or impolitely for 
 half an hour, appealing invariably to Mr. Tubbs, 
 the vicar (the squire referred to him facetiously 
 as " broad church ", his figure being a little in- 
 clined to embonpoint, in spite of an unusually 
 meagre stipend), but he always went out, shaking 
 his round head with a placid smile : " Settle it 
 yourselves, dear ladies, settle it yourselves!" So 
 he was no good as referee. He used to say the 
 zenana party " pecked at him " — a most disagree- 
 able simile, but one which really described the 
 operation rather well. 
 
 Miss Stark, who was the late vicar's daughter, 
 and took a good deal upon herself, the other ladies 
 said, presided at the sewing-machine, and she 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 had decided views; but then so had Miss Tibbits, 
 who cut out, and the wills of these two were apt 
 to clash as frequently as did Miss Tibbits's 
 scissors. 
 
 To-day, for instance, the discussion was about 
 the literature to be read to the party. Miss 
 Tibbits thought they should go on with My 
 Mission in China, by a lady missionary, while 
 Miss Stark was determined that a letter from a 
 Dutch friend should be read. They were hotly 
 discussing the subject by the table, Miss Tibbits 
 armed with a large and murderous-looking pair 
 of scissors, with which she was hovering over an 
 interminable length of linen, when Miss Lavender 
 came up to the table in her soft black silk skirt, 
 and bonnet with the little girlish tuft of white 
 and pink marabou feathers. 
 
 There was always a little touch of colour about 
 Miss Lavender. She had never outgrown her 
 girlish love of ribands and furbelows. 
 
 Her circular waterproof, and Miss Horatio's, 
 
 reposed in the corner, with their umbrellas, but 
 
 Miss Lavender was said to be " dressy ", and wore 
 
 what she pleased underneath the hideous dark- 
 
 -blue cape. 
 
 When she interposed her small dreamy face, 
 with its innocent blue eyes, interrupting the two 
 ladies for a moment, they heeded her not at all. 
 
At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 No one in Drelinford heeded Miss Lavender much, 
 whereas people broke off in their sentences if Miss 
 Horatio drew near. It was odd. There are some 
 people in this world born to be passed over, I 
 suppose. 
 
 " As I was saying. Miss Tibbits, the letter is 
 from my friend, Miss Van Tromp. She has re- 
 sided for four years in Java. The Protestant 
 church there — " 
 
 " But Java is not one of our colonies, Miss Stark. 
 I don't believe half of us know where it is. Do 
 you, Miss Lavender?" 
 
 Miss Lavender, thus appealed to, gasped in 
 agitation. She felt herself like a child at school 
 with an unprepared lesson. " Java?" she repeated 
 vaguely. "Dear me, how very stupid of me! I 
 should know, of course. Are there not — " she 
 paused and blinked her eyes rapidly, " oranges 
 from Java? Very good oranges. Mr. Perks, the 
 grocer, had some last year, and assured me — " 
 
 " I thought so," Miss Tibbits announced trium- 
 phantly. " She is thinking of Jaffa. What did 
 you say, Miss Lavender?" 
 
 " I seem to have heard of it," Miss Lavender 
 was murmuring. " I think it was in the World 
 of Wonders book. A dreadful place for tigers — or 
 was it wild elephants? Something wild, I know. 
 I dare say it would be very interesting. I came. 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Miss Stark, to ask for the loan of your scissors. 
 If you would be so very kind." 
 
 Miss Stark turned round at that. She knew 
 Miss Lavender's little failings. " The last time 
 I lent you my scissors," she said sternly, " you 
 put them in the coal-box, which happened to be 
 at your side. I can't do it, Miss Lavender! But 
 I will give you a snip." 
 
 " Thank you very much ! " The little lady held up 
 her seam. " I seem to have got the hem rather 
 wide, so I was going to unpick it, and then it 
 ravelled into a knot — the thread, I mean." 
 
 " So I see." Miss Stark bent a severe eye 
 upon the seam. " Better leave it to me, and 
 I'll attend to it; or give it to Elspeth Mac- 
 donald. Miss Tibbits, I shall read my friend's 
 letter! China is not one of our colonies, so far 
 as I am aware. The knowledge that Miss Van 
 Tromp is my friend should give a personal touch 
 to the letter. She has visited Drelinford. And 
 Java is a most beautiful and interesting island. 
 Ladies! Silence, if you please. I have before me 
 now — are you going to sit down. Miss Lavender? 
 Put the scissors there, please." 
 
 Miss Lavender, wandering round the room 
 absent-mindedly, felt herself drawn into a chair 
 beside a tall girl in a blue serge coat and skirt, 
 who was just unfastening a fur necklet. Two 
 
At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 hazel eyes that had an odd sparkle and light, 
 which somehow belied the repose of the clear, 
 well-cut features, and a rather grave and serious 
 mouth, were fixed upon her, and a voice whispered 
 in her ear, as Miss Stark's stentorian voice took up 
 its tale : "Sit beside me, Miss Lavender, and I'll 
 thread your needles for you. What did you want 
 up at the high priestess's yonder?" 
 
 "A loan of her scissors!" Miss Lavender whis- 
 pered back. " I'd forgotten about the pair I— 
 lost. She said she'd give me a snip. Elspeth, 
 my dear, where is Java?" 
 
 " In the Dutch East Indies, isn't it?" Elspeth 
 murmured vaguely. " I seem to remember some- 
 thing about a Poison Valley and a Upas Tree! 
 Is she going to read about that? How exciting! 
 Miss Lavender, let me put this right for you." 
 
 Her eyes danced again as she looked at Miss 
 Lavender's hour's work. The old lady was a 
 great friend of hers. Elspeth always said Miss 
 Lavender should have lived in " Cranford", and 
 she was so used to the hiatuses in the little lady's 
 conversation, and the confusion of her metaphors, 
 that she never needed an explanation. People 
 said it was absurd of Lavender to make a friend 
 of a mere girl; but, as Elspeth always retorted, 
 the old ladies of to-day are really so much more 
 youthful than the young ones! 
 
 7 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " I feel a patriarch, a positive woman of the 
 world, beside Miss Lavender," she used to say to 
 her father. " And as for Miss Horatio herself, she 
 is only an innocent old governess in spectacles — a 
 dear old early Victorian governess, left over from 
 the last century; a relic, like elastic-sided boots and 
 side curls! She's not really stern at heart. She's 
 only a prim old lady in a puce gown. The very 
 words are out of date. Her sternness is only on 
 the surface, though she's sometimes a little prickly, 
 I allow." 
 
 Miss Stark, meanwhile, was in the full flood of 
 the Java letter, which was a long account of the 
 Dutch Missionary Church founded in that island. 
 Elspeth decided afterwards that she could not have 
 listened, for she remembered absolutely nothing 
 about it. She had a talent for detaching her mind 
 from things which did not appeal to her, for stuff- 
 ing her ears with cotton - wool, so to say, and 
 wandering down the pleached alleys and rose-plots 
 of her own sunny dreams and imaginings, while 
 the voice of the lecturer, or the preacher, or the 
 bore, droned on. The garden of a girl's thoughts 
 has so many winding paths; such an enticing 
 mystery of maze and hedged retreats ! She roused 
 with a start to hear a murmur of thanks going on 
 all around. "Most interesting," Miss Lavender 
 was murmuring at her side. "Delightful, indeed! 
 
At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 And how clever of the lady to learn all the lan- 
 guages! Dutch and Malay and Javanese — and — 
 did she say Chinese, my dear? Or was that the 
 other book? And the people so gentle and biddable ! 
 Mrs. Croft used to say her black nurse stole; but 
 perhaps she was badly brought up — though, now 
 I come to think of it, she couldn't have been a 
 Javanese, could she; for she lived at the Cape? Or 
 was it Singapore? My dear, where did Mrs. Croft 
 come from? Somewhere in the East, wasn't it?" 
 
 " She was from Colombo, I think, Miss Lavender; 
 but I believe people are leaving. May I walk 
 home with you? How is old Sandy's rheumatism? 
 Father told me to be sure and ask. He has gone 
 over to see Martin Drew, and won't have time to 
 look in." 
 
 " Oh, he is much better! Will you put my work 
 with yours, Elspeth? Here is Horatio. You'll 
 come and have tea. Horatio, Elspeth will walk 
 home with us. A very interesting letter, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Very." 
 
 Miss Horatio spoke with a curious abstraction 
 and brevity. When Elspeth looked up she saw 
 that the good lady was standing with her work 
 neatly folded as if forgetting to lay it down. 
 There was something a little odd in her manner; 
 she looked troubled, somehow, disturbed, restless. 
 It was such an unusual expression for her to wear 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 that Elspeth wondered. The girl took her work 
 and laid it beside Miss Lavender's, and by and by 
 she helped the two old ladies on with their cloaks. 
 
 "Going home with the Tabbies?" a girl friend 
 whispered in her ear in the entrance. "As usual! 
 You silly girl, come with me! We're going to play 
 ping-pong, and Johnnie Searle said he'd look in 
 after the office closed." 
 
 But Elspeth shook her head. She was just a 
 little tired of ping-pong. And Johnnie Searle was 
 Phyllis Raymond's particular property. Another 
 girl's particular property is not interesting. 
 
 Miss Horatio was unusually silent, Elspeth 
 thought; but when they were at tea, and Miss 
 Lavender was discoursing mildly on various village 
 matters, she looked up suddenly, interrupting her 
 sister. 
 
 " Lavender, do you remember where that old 
 portrait of Harry was put?" 
 
 "Harry!" Miss Lavender started. Elspeth 
 fancied a little more colour crept into her face. 
 The old lady looked round the old-fashioned room 
 with its out-of-date furniture, its tapestry screen, 
 its sewn fire-stool, its Indian ornaments and French 
 clock under a glass case, with a kind of bewilder- 
 ment. It was as if Miss Horatio had suddenly 
 exploded a bomb in the room. Elspeth wondered 
 who was " Harry!" 
 
 10 
 
At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 ' I — I don't know ! Did not my father put it 
 away?" 
 
 " Yes. I wondered if you knew where." 
 
 She said no more then, but after Elspeth had 
 gone away, and the sisters had finished dinner and 
 had taken up their work in the drawing-room. 
 Lavender was surprised to see that Miss Horatio 
 was doing nothing — absolutely nothing. She was 
 staring before her with her eyes fixed on the fire. 
 Hard eyes, with a look of pain and a look of 
 memory, a look of unrest, it might have been 
 thought almost of remorse. 
 
 " Horatio," Miss Lavender said timidly, " what 
 is it? And what made you think of Harry — to- 
 night?" 
 
 " I will tell you. When he went away — after 
 the tragedy — he went to Java. The lawyer told 
 me so." 
 
 "To Java!" 
 
 "Yes. He had a friend there. I heard so 
 much. Are you going to bed. Lavender? You 
 had better go." 
 
 Miss Lavender rose as if bewildered. The words 
 were a command, and yet it was barely ten o'clock ! 
 
 " Very well," she murmured. " But — you, 
 Horatio? What are you — going to do?" 
 
 Horatio paused a moment, as if considering. 
 
 " I will tell you," she said then, still in that 
 
 11 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 strangely meclianical voice; "I am going to search 
 my father's bureau. All these years, Lavender, 
 I have hidden something from you. When my 
 father died he bade me seek in his bureau for a 
 letter. He whispered something about Harry, and 
 'looking after him'. I had not liked Harry, as 
 you know. When he went away — I was glad. He 
 used to tease and taunt me. I did look — but not 
 well. I found nothing; so I let things slide, and 
 did nothing. All these years he has been dead to 
 us. Silent! And I let him rest. I was glad to 
 put him out of our lives." 
 
 " I thought he was dead," Lavender breathed. 
 
 "He may be; but I don't know. And to-day, 
 when that woman read about Java, it all came 
 to me suddenly that it was a leading. For last 
 night I had a curious dream. I saw my step- 
 mother, and she stood by the bed and pointed — 
 always pointed. She seemed directing me to go 
 somewhere — I don't know where. I made up my 
 mind it was nonsense. And then at the zenana 
 meeting there was that letter about Java. It is a 
 hand, pointing. Lavender, and I am growing an 
 old woman. I can't die if I have left something 
 undone. I couldn't meet her look if somehow I 
 was to blame. She had the same wistful, gentle 
 look. I — I sometimes think I was rather hard 
 upon her." 
 
 12 
 
At the Zenana Work Party 
 
 She broke off, a curious catch in her throat. 
 The gray face looked grayer than Miss Lavender 
 had ever seen it — older and colder. She had an 
 odd feeling, looking up at her sister, that she could 
 fancy how Horatio would look if she were dead. 
 What an outrageous thing to think of! How 
 horrible! Miss Lavender wondered at herself 
 fiercely. She gazed at her sister in a kind of 
 pathetic bewilderment, not following her at all. 
 The king can do no wrong. Horatio could do 
 no wrong. What did she mean? 
 
 " Something undone," she repeated vaguely and 
 affectionately. "Horatio, dear, I am sure you 
 never did anything wrong!" 
 
 " Well, well, you don't understand." She was 
 sometimes impatient with Miss Lavender, yet now, 
 in this moment of fierce pain, the stronger nature 
 took the limitations of the weaker with a wonderful 
 gentleness, and Lavender rose and presently raised 
 her face to be kissed. 
 
 So it had always been. Lavender had never 
 "understood" things. Horatio had grown so 
 accustomed to the fact that it was only now and 
 then that the fierce desire — the true woman's 
 desire — for something stronger than herself to lean 
 on stabbed her like the twinge of an old wound. 
 Always to be leant upon! And she was growing 
 old! 
 
 13 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Good-night, Lavender!" 
 
 "Good-night!" 
 
 She saw her sister go, and heard the closing of 
 the door. She had always shielded Lavender from 
 things — from her father's iron will and stormy- 
 temper, from the little worries and perplexities of 
 life. Lavender would sleep as well to-night as 
 ever, she thought, in the dainty little room which 
 was the room of her girlhood. The ivy strayed 
 gently on the window now, the roses tapped there 
 in summer, and the clematis. It was an abode of 
 peace. 
 
 She meant to stay and search the bureau. 
 
 She could not banish the thought of that white, 
 slender hand, pointing — pointing — and — blood- 
 stained. 
 
 Miss Horatio's head shook a little at the thought. 
 She had not mentioned that detail to Lavender, 
 but the old tragedy, the old horror, had come back 
 as fresh as if it were yesterday. Lavender had 
 known nothing of it. She had been told only what 
 the world knew. And Horatio had deemed the 
 thing buried, buried deep under the sod, with poor 
 Lillian's dead face. It clutched her to-night, the 
 pain and the horror and the shame of it, as fresh 
 as ever. Why? Because she had opened a grave. 
 She rose restlessly, took a candle and sat down by 
 the bureau. 
 
 14 
 
CHAPTER II 
 The Unfinished Letter 
 
 Miss Horatio had been strong in all slie did, and 
 she had turned a page determinedly and closed the 
 volume after a certain day in her life. Her half- 
 brother Harry had been a disgrace to the family; 
 when he disappeared she let the curtain fall upon 
 him, and resolutely turned her back on the whole 
 story. She opened a new volume, as it were, in 
 which he had no share. She and Lavender had 
 led their life of comfort and ease at Drelinford, 
 people of importance in the village and even in the 
 county; the Misses Bouverie of Bouverie, with a 
 substantial income and a substantial position, of 
 good family and unblemished record. 
 
 Flippant young people might call them " The 
 Tabbies ", but the village rendered them respectful 
 homage, and the vicar often said they were as 
 good as two curates. Pillars of the Church, and of 
 the Primrose League, they were part of the place. 
 As strong and permanent as the old Norman tower, 
 elements of changelessness in a world of change. 
 
 15 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 And Miss Horatio had gradually come to forget 
 that certain things had ever come to pass. When 
 we turn our backs resolutely, and refuse to dwell 
 for a moment on the disagreeable and the harrow- 
 ing, the process of obliteration is not long. And 
 yet, with the touch of a dream, the film and mist 
 of years was brushed aside! Sitting here by the 
 bureau, the old woman could have groaned aloud. 
 The pain seemed as poignant as in that long-past 
 yesterday. 
 
 She was at school when the news came that her 
 father had married again. The bride was a mere 
 child, only seventeen, the orphan ward of his old 
 friend General Ffrench. Horatio was furious. He 
 had no need to marry when she was there. She 
 expressed herself openly, and the two iron wills 
 clashed. He and she were never quite the same 
 after that, and when she came back he could see 
 that she chilled his wife. Then the boy was born, 
 and Horatio was much from home. From that 
 time she stayed almost entirely with a maiden 
 sister of her own mother's, only returning at in- 
 tervals to find the household happy enough with- 
 out her. Then came elements of strife. Harry 
 was at college, was talked of as fast and wild, there 
 were bitter quarrels when he returned for vacation. 
 He had taken to drink. The squire was furious, 
 his mother broken-hearted. Lavender was sent 
 
 16 
 
The Unfinished Letter 
 
 away; she, Horatio, was bitter and contemptuous. 
 But when the final tragedy occurred she was at 
 home ; indeed, she was almost a spectator of it. 
 
 A hot September evening, when butterflies flut- 
 tered white wings to and fro, and there were great 
 golden discs of sunflowers in the sweet old garden. 
 Harry had come home late, tipsy, after a long 
 day's shooting. Someone had taken him home to 
 bachelor's "digs" and given him drink. Then 
 came furious denunciation from Mr. Bouverie, scorn 
 and contempt, a violent quarrel. Then a shot, a 
 wild cry, an awful silence! She ran to the gun- 
 room, and there lay Lillian on the floor, dying ; the 
 son knelt beside her, her father stood, grim and 
 ashy, at a little distance. Even then her step- 
 mother's eyes were for Harry, her hands held his. 
 "It was an accident!" she breathed, and so died. 
 
 They said it was an accident; that his gun went 
 off, and Mrs. Bouverie received the charge. 
 
 The squire told the story. Harry had fled, 
 dismayed, his father said, at the horror of the thing, 
 appalled at the " accident ". His father never saw 
 or spoke to him after the hour in which Lillian lay 
 dead. He disinherited him, and the place was left 
 to Horatio and Lavender. Only on his death-bed, 
 alone one night, he told Horatio the truth, and it 
 seemed to turn her to stone. It was no accident. 
 "I told a lie," he said. "He fired at me, and she 
 
 (B30) 17 B 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 rushed between. You heard what she said. She 
 adored him, and she had grown, I think, to dislike 
 me. There is some curious warp in a woman's 
 nature. She loves the black sheep best. But 
 keep his secret still, Horatio. I spared him for 
 her sake." It was only at the last that he whis- 
 pered something uneasily about a letter for her in 
 the bureau— that " Lillian would ask him about the 
 lad"; then came a long stupor, melting into death. 
 
 She had searched carelessly, angrily; had been 
 glad to find nothing. And then came long years, 
 with the curtain rung down on the tragedy, till 
 Lillian visited her in a dream last night with 
 blood-stained hands, and pointed, and Miss Stark 
 read the letter from Java, where, long ago, she 
 had heard he had gone. 
 
 " I think I looked in these drawers; there is 
 nothing there but old accounts." 
 
 She put out her hand and drew them out, one 
 after another. Packets of old letters. A minia- 
 ture of her stepmother, in a red morocco case, her 
 father's marriage certificates, many bills, a lock of 
 fair flossy hair — it must be Lillian's, — some of her 
 own first school essays. Nothing else. She searched 
 all the drawers. No communication of any kind. 
 Then she came on an old blotter pushed away 
 under some engravings. She opened and searched 
 it. Yes, there was an envelope, yellow with age, 
 
 18 
 
The Unfinished Letter 
 
 addressed to herself but not closed, an unfastened 
 letter. She had been from home, she remembered, 
 just before her father's last illness; he must have 
 begun the letter then. 
 
 " I want you to see about Harry," it began 
 abruptly. " I can't get him out of my head. I 
 think I was stern and hard. I should have left 
 him alone when he wasn't quite himself. I heard 
 afterwards that the drink curse was dreadfully in 
 her family, and an inherited instinct dogs a man, 
 and maims him at the outset. I fancy my time 
 is short, and I keep thinking I see her. She'll 
 ask me the first thing about him. I want you to 
 look for him, and see he comes to no want. There 
 is enough for you and Lavender. You never liked 
 him or her, Horatio, but you are a just woman. 
 Tell him that I was sorry I — " And there the line 
 ended. Miss Horatio sat staring at it, her face 
 gray, her lips working. 
 
 "You are a just woman!" The words pierced 
 her. She had not been just! She had deliberately 
 refused to look for the letter. She had known it 
 might give her instructions about Harry, might 
 bring him again into the quiet zone of their lives. 
 And he was a reprobate and a drunkard, and a — 
 would-be murderer. 
 
 There is no one so hard as one type of religious 
 woman: the type which revels in the Law and 
 
 19 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the Prophets, and reads all the texts except those 
 which teach of unfailing love, and charity, and a 
 patience wide as the sea. Harry's coming might 
 mean disgrace! And disgrace and a Bouverie had 
 no connection. She would fain have buried Harry 
 — blotted out his name. 
 
 "Three-score years and ten is the limit," Miss 
 Horatio said to herself now, absently and drearily, 
 "I am sixty- two! I can scarcely realize it. He 
 will be thirty-four. I am getting an old woman. 
 I cannot die with this on my conscience! I must 
 go to this place — to Java — and look for him. He 
 may be dead, but if so, I shall find out. He may 
 be rich and content. The Bible says the wicked 
 flourish like a green bay -tree. If so I might bring 
 him to repentance. In any case I must find him 
 out. My father had to answer Lillian. I shall 
 have to answer him." 
 
 She thought of no difficulties, no obstacles. 
 Strong-willed women make less of obstacles than 
 many men. She thought of Java, vaguely, as a 
 place of earthquakes and volcanoes; there were 
 poison valleys on the one side and upas-trees on 
 the other. She supposed she would ride on an 
 elephant through wild tropical jungles, where tigers 
 and lions crouched in pestilential swamps. But 
 nothing of all these details mattered. She would 
 go and find him. She would fulfil her father's 
 
 20 
 
The Unfinished Letter 
 
 trust. Death, the great calm judge, the last 
 Tribunal, were there waiting for her; before she 
 went into the Silence she must keep troth with her 
 father, late though it was. She felt somehow that 
 this was her expiation. She rose to her feet and 
 shut and locked the bureau. She took up the 
 candle, and, passing Lavender's room, opened the 
 door gently. Her sister was sleeping quietly, as 
 she always did, on the lace-trimmed pillows, her 
 little book of texts on her table, with match-box 
 and candle. Lavender read a text the last thing 
 before lying down, as a child might take a bon- 
 bon, to soothe herself to sleep. 
 
 Miss Horatio stood with a curious twitching of 
 lips. 
 
 "Lavender has been a child all her life," she 
 said to herself " She will die a child! I wonder 
 how she would meet this! How she would act! 
 She would be scared and bewildered. I shall 
 never tell her the truth. But perhaps she had 
 better come to Java too. She could stay in some 
 safe place. She would be quite helpless left here." 
 
 She made up her mind she would ride through 
 the tiger-stalked jungle alone. Lavender could 
 come and stay in one of the towns. Then, shading 
 her candle still, she went to bed. 
 
 21 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Mr. Tubbs's Nephew 
 
 "My dear ladies! It is the most astonishing 
 thing I ever heard of in my life. Such a journey! 
 Such an adventure! And, as I said to Mrs. Tubbs, 
 how extraordinary that we should be mixed up in 
 it!" 
 
 Mr. Tubbs had a curious staccato voice, very 
 shrill and piercing, a round rosy face, and pale- 
 gray protruding eyes. His expression was one of 
 perpetual surprise. He was a wretched preacher but 
 a very good, kindly little man. He was very fond 
 of dropping in just about luncheon-time at Bou- 
 verie, as he had done now. 
 
 "How are you mixed up in it, Mr. Tubbs?" 
 Elspeth enquired. She thought that was indeed 
 rather a coincidence. Surely Mr. and Mrs. Tubbs 
 were not going to be tacked on to the party! 
 
 She was seated at the lunch table opposite the 
 vicar, and they had all just sat down. Mr. Tubbs, 
 fastening his napkin under his chin, had accepted 
 soup, with a wide and amiable smile, regarding the 
 
 22 
 
Mr. Tubbs's Nephew 
 
 young lady with pleased approbation. Mr. Tubbs 
 bad a weakness for bright and pretty faces; he was 
 "very foolish about girls", his wife said. It was 
 one of the stains which darkened the garment 
 of this earthly saint — a very faint one. 
 
 "Because, my dear young lady, Mrs. Tubbs's 
 nephew, Dick Beresford, is in Java. And when- 
 ever I heard the story from Miss Bouverie I wrote 
 to Dick. I assure you I did not lose a post ! ' Two 
 of my own parishioners — our most respected 
 parishioners — '" Mr. Tubbs began his soup, speak- 
 ing impressively and gratefully as the butler filled 
 his glass with Miss Horatio's best dry sherry 
 " — ' are starting for Java. They will write to 
 you from the nearest point,' I said, ' and you will 
 meet them, and do everything for them.' I sug- 
 gested a stay up-country, to show the inner life of 
 the island, and Mrs. Tubbs is going to ask, of your 
 goodness, ladies, if you will take out his grand- 
 mother's tea-pot to him? Such an opportunity, as 
 she said; one does not find people going to Java 
 every day." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to take the tea-pot," Miss 
 Horatio said. " And I dare say your nephew will 
 be very useful to us." 
 
 "Dear me, yes, I remember Dick," Miss La- 
 vender interjected then. " A very nice little boy, 
 with curly fair hair and blue eyes, or was that 
 
 23 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Bessie Lyell's boy? He fell into Farmer Brown's 
 pond, I remember, and was taken home by old 
 Lady Lisle in her wagonette — or her barouche, I 
 forget which, with her cloak pinned round him. 
 She said he was a perfect pickle. Or perhaps it 
 was you who said that. You recollect we met 
 them, Horatio, and you said at the time that if 
 Bessie looked better after her children, and had 
 more Greek on her hands, and less gloves in her 
 head — oh, I mean the other way about! — she went 
 to Girton, you know, Mr. Tubbs — the only girl I 
 ever knew at Girton. Though I'm sure it is very 
 clever of people to know Greek, or, indeed, any 
 language. But as I was saying — what was I 
 saying, Elspeth dear?" 
 
 "We began about Dick Beresford, I think," 
 Elspeth said with her suppressed twinkle. " We 
 proceeded then to Girton, and Greek, and, inci- 
 dentally, gloves. I think I forget the exact 
 connecting-link." 
 
 Miss Horatio sharply recommended Lavender to 
 go on with her soup and let Jerry remove her 
 plate. They were all waiting. 
 
 " But have you heard, Mr. Tubbs, that I am to 
 be of the party?" Elspeth broke the pause then. 
 "Isn't it delightful? Miss Horatio thought I 
 would enjoy it, and I am to be a kind of cross 
 between a lady's-maid and a Cook's guide and 
 
 24 
 
Mr. Tubbs's Nephew 
 
 courier! I am to keep the tickets, and count the 
 luggage, and give the tips. Now, I shall look 
 after the tea-pot. Is your nephew in business?" 
 
 " He is in a sugar-mill, I think," Mr. Tubbs said. 
 " But he is a wretched correspondent, and writes 
 but seldom. It is sugar or coflfee — sugar, I thiuk. 
 He sent us home some curiosities once; I wrote 
 and asked him if he would write us an account of 
 the Poison Valley for the Y.M.C.A.'s meetings. I 
 used to read about the Poison Valley in my young 
 days — remote now, alas! — and thought it quite 
 entrancing. Skeletons of men and beasts strewed 
 everywhere — carbonic acid gas, you know, gener- 
 ated somehow in the hollow — and I asked if he 
 would go specially and see it— descend, if possible." 
 
 "Rather an unkind suggestion, wasn't that?" 
 Elspeth remarked, "and unpractical, too; because, 
 if he had gone, the hope of the paper might have 
 proved vain!" 
 
 " Oh, but he wrote saying the thing was a fraud! 
 Not even the skeleton of a butterfly — " 
 
 " How extremely disappointing ! Another of our 
 disillusions, Miss Horatio! No fish, thank you, 
 Jerry. Oh, dear!" Elspeth sighed apprehensively; 
 "the upas-tree will go next! Still, they can't de- 
 clare that the volcanoes are myths. You see they 
 are marked on the map. You can't explain away 
 a map." 
 
 25 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "I suppose it is a wild enough place," Mr. Tubbs 
 said, shaking his head. " Shall you visit Japan 
 also. Miss Horatio?" 
 
 " No, I fancy we will return after we have seen 
 Java." Miss Horatio was carving the chicken her 
 expression absorbed. "Did your nephew ever speak 
 of any other English people near him, Mr. Tubbs?" 
 
 " I fancy that on his estate they are nearly all 
 Dutch, but I know he said that in Batavia and 
 Samarang there were English. The mill in which 
 he works is about 30 miles from a town. But 
 Dick will do everything in his power for you. A 
 most good-natured creature, if a little wild and 
 careless as a boy. Still, black sheep sometimes do 
 well — naughty children sometimes pick themselves 
 up." The vicar smiled indulgently. " So I tell 
 Mrs. Tubbs; so, I believe, do bigger children." 
 
 "What church does he attend?" Miss Lavender 
 enquired earnestly; "I was wondering what we 
 should do about that. Because, though I have 
 bought a Dutch grammar and dictionary, I fear I 
 shall be very slow at the language. Did you ask 
 him, Mr. Tubbs? I hope it is not a Eitualistic 
 service. I trust they do not intone. Nowadays 
 one never knows." 
 
 " I fear he goes nowhere. Ah, these young men 
 need the touch of home life! I look to you. Miss 
 Horatio, to lead him back to the old ways. His 
 
 26 
 
Mr. Tubbs's Nephew 
 
 aunt and I were talking of that. In the East, I 
 hear, they grow so careless ! I know they work on 
 Sundays at the mills. He said the sugar could not 
 be allowed to cool. It seemed a ridiculous excuse. 
 Other things cool on Sundays; why not sugar?" 
 
 " It sounds as if life were going to be a perpetual 
 toffee-making," Elspeth said, seeing an apprehensive 
 shadow descend very deeply on the vicar's face. 
 "After all, I don't suppose they like working on 
 Sunday. And all the exercise of Christianity isn't 
 necessarily confined to a building, is it? Have you 
 heard from the steamboat people. Miss Horatio?" 
 
 They talked, then, of lines and steamers; and 
 after Mr. Tubbs had finished his cheese and dessert 
 — lunch was a solemn function to the little man, 
 whose soul was not above the flesh-pots of Egypt — 
 Elspeth walked home. Her father was in the bare 
 little surgery, where she went in presently and 
 put her arm through his. The doctor turned and 
 regarded her quietly — a look of serene content in 
 her presence there. They understood each other 
 very well. 
 
 "Where have you been, bairn?" 
 
 " At Bouverie. Mr. Tubbs was at lunch, and we 
 were discussing Java. It seems he has a nephew 
 who is going to look after us; Dick Beresford. The 
 old ladies wanted to know where he went to 
 church, and Miss Lavender is in an agony in case 
 
 27 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the service is High! Oh, Dad, I feel as if I were 
 going into a new world, with the charge of two 
 big babies! But the prospect is so enchanting for 
 all that — and even with the thought of leaving 
 you! The gorgeous East! The lotus, and the bam- 
 boos, and the palms, and the hot, white sun ! I am 
 always thinking of that picture of white surf beat- 
 ing on Colombo sands — the glamour and the glory 
 of it all! It sends such a wild, wild thrill through 
 my heart! And yet, when I think of your coming 
 in, wet and cold, at nights, with no one to see you 
 change, or listen to your dreadful Eadical tirades 
 against the Government — !" 
 
 The doctor laughed at that, pinching her ear. 
 
 "And what did I do, pray, all the years you 
 were at school? No, bairn, enjoy it all and don't 
 think of me. It will be a new heaven and a new 
 earth. The East was a dream of mine also. I wish 
 I could come too!" 
 
 "Oh, Dad, if you could!" 
 
 He smiled. " And let the practice go? So Tubbs 
 is going to help you with introductions. He's 
 a good little parson, and sincere as far as he goes. 
 I remember Dick — he had measles with them. An 
 awful pickle! He was always in scrapes." 
 
 " Mr. Tubbs said so and shook his head. But I 
 was wondering privately what the said Dick's 
 views would be of all this? For Mr. Tubbs has 
 
 28 
 
Mr. Tubbs's Nephew 
 
 positively launched us upon him. And if he does 
 not understand that dear Miss Horatio's terrible 
 frowns mean nothing; and oh, Dad! can you pic- 
 ture Miss Lavender's confusion of mind after a 
 month of travel? can you picture it? Shall we 
 ever unravel her conversation?" 
 
 "I doubt it," her father said. "She will be 
 chaotic — " He sat down in the shabby chair, and 
 then suddenly looked up at the girl. 
 
 " What does Walter say to your going?" 
 
 "He said it was a very good opportunity for 
 travel, and was I sure the old ladies would pay all 
 expenses?" Elspeth laughed, not very merrily. 
 " You know Walter's practical mind; and of course 
 he knows what dreadfully unpractical paupers you 
 and I are, Dad. Such utterly lily-of-the-field kind 
 of paupers! I wanted him to come down and say 
 good-bye, but he is going to Lady Gale's dinner on 
 the fourth. All sorts of literary and political big- 
 wigs are to be there." 
 
 " And the Budget goes well?" 
 
 " Very well. He says it is not strong enough, 
 though. Walter wants to back ' C. B.' more openly. 
 He says the Budget sits on the fence." 
 
 "His letters are pretty political, then?" the 
 doctor yawned suddenly, for he was desperately 
 tired, and then he laid a hand on her shoulder. 
 " Run and get me a cup of tea before I go round to 
 
 29 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 White's. There's a dear," he said. Elspeth ran 
 off. 
 
 He sat looking into the dying fire drearily. A 
 fine, keen, rather sad face — the face of a man whose 
 life trouble has dogged, but which disappointment 
 has failed to embitter. An unsuccessful man, and 
 yet a brilliant one, unworldly, unambitious. 
 
 " It is a mystery," he said to himself. " That 
 worldly-minded prig, whose heart I could put on a 
 lancet's point, with nothing but his handsome face 
 and his cool, calculating brains, and my girl — my 
 Elspeth — my sunny-faced girl, with her heart of 
 gold! Does she really care, or is it merely glamour? 
 I can never quite make out. If she cares, it will 
 be a crash sooner or later, and life with its wine 
 soured before she has drained the best of the cup. 
 And if she did not care, why should she — " 
 
 Elspeth came in with the tea. He drank it 
 standing, and then went out to " White's ", where 
 he would watch by the side of a man who had lain 
 drunk in a ditch all night, and was in peril of his 
 life with pneumonia now, dragging him back from 
 the mire of death once more, for no fee and no 
 hope of one. 
 
 That is many a doctor's life, though I am not 
 aware that the world regards them as particularly 
 heroic. 
 
 30 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 Walter's " Furrow" 
 
 Walter Herbert was in Parliament, had gained 
 a seat at the last election; being asked to stand by 
 his party, who were grateful for his services on his 
 newspaper and recognized him as a coming man. 
 He occupied a flat in a good central position, and 
 presented to the world the appearance of a well-to- 
 do and extremely capable man — one sure to get 
 on, — quick, clever, self-assured. Also he was very 
 handsome, and was believed, vaguely, to come of a 
 good family, though no one knew exactly the 
 details of his parentage, or from what quarter he 
 hailed. In journalism he had been a success; 
 already he was known in an assembly in which 
 even talent, and that of a special order, does not 
 invariably come to the front. He had spoken well 
 on several occasions in the House, and each occasion 
 had improved on the impression he made. 
 
 "That fellow Herbert will go far," astute old 
 parliamentary hands prophesied. " He has brains 
 and he has an uncommon will. His convictions 
 
 31 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 will not, we should say, stand in his way. And 
 the winds of heaven will fill his sails whichever 
 way they blow." 
 
 It was not known at all that he was engaged to 
 be married. Herbert never talked of that. He 
 had been down staying at Drelinford one summer, 
 fishing, in his holiday, and had been ill there, and 
 attended by Doctor Macdonald. Then he had met 
 and fallen in love with Elspeth. To her he had 
 been a hero — the first cultured man she had known 
 intimately; her freshness and brightness and her 
 undoubted beauty drew him out of himself, and the 
 course of love ran smooth. They were to be mar- 
 ried when he edited, not sub-edited, the Budget, 
 then when he entered Parliament, then when his 
 expenses were less. Then he talked of giving up 
 the Budget and seeking other literary work. Affairs 
 were in a state of probation he said, and there was 
 no more word of marriage then. Things were in 
 this stage when Elspeth wrote to him of the old 
 ladies' invitation to go with them to Java, and 
 Walter, as we have seen, approved the scheme. 
 
 Now that they were to be up in town shopping, 
 just before starting, she had written to her jianc4 
 bidding him come and dine at the Cecil. The old 
 ladies admired him greatly. Indeed he quite over- 
 powered Miss Lavender, who was always nervous in 
 his society. Elspeth' s heart had beat very happily 
 
 32 
 
Walter's " Furrow" 
 
 as they drove through the crowded streets after 
 their arrival. For her, London chiefly meant the 
 great fascinating arena in which her lover fought 
 so well and bravely, and in which one day he 
 would come off the victor. 
 
 His strength appealed to her, his courage, his 
 virility, his talents. She would gladly have fought 
 by his side and helped him in the advance, but she 
 tried to be content to wait till he had time for 
 love, time for her and marriage. 
 
 There was a telegram waiting for her at the 
 hotel when they entered. 
 
 " Engaged to-night to dine at the Speaker's. 
 Can you call at the House about four?" 
 
 She read the message to the old ladies. 
 
 " He is, of course, very much occupied," Miss 
 Horatio said; "Parliament must be most engross- 
 ing! I often think we scarcely realize all we owe 
 to our legislators. Of course you must take a 
 carriage and go, my child. Eing the bell and 
 order one. If it is possible. Lavender would 
 greatly like to see the ladies' gallery, but that 
 can wait. And you can tell him that any night 
 before Thursday that he can dine with us we 
 shall be delighted to see him." 
 
 " I hope he will be able," Blspeth murmured. 
 She had an idea that Walter would not make a 
 great effort. He was a little apt to pass over the 
 
 (B30) 33 G 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 old ladies' invitations if anything else turned up. 
 He said once that their dinners were good, but 
 their conversation was that of a church work- 
 party, and Elspeth was always restless if she 
 knew he was bored. His very suave and graceful 
 manner did not stand the wear and tear of bore- 
 dom at all. 
 
 But she could think of nothing but the joy of 
 seeing him again, as she drove up to the beautiful 
 frontage of the House, and then found her way to 
 the Lobby, where she sent in her card by a police- 
 man. There might be some time to wait, he said. 
 He did not know if Mr. Herbert was in the House ; 
 and she sat down quite contentedly on a bench 
 by the wall, looking around her with keen and 
 delighted interest. Everyone seemed too much 
 taken up to give her even a passing glance. Men 
 hurried to and fro, out and in, telegraph-boys and 
 messengers; there was a long row of expectant 
 callers waiting by the barrier, and apparently 
 bombarding the policeman with eager questions. 
 
 " Country cousins and constituents," Elspeth 
 said to herself " And to think that this is posi- 
 tively the great throbbing heart of the Empire! 
 That yonder is the room where the fate of nations 
 is decided — where the words are spoken which 
 send out great ships and giant armies! I love to 
 think Walter is amongst them all! — pushing his 
 
 34 
 
Walter's "Furrow" 
 
 way to the very front ; not rich, hke so many, but 
 armed with his great talents, his splendid will." 
 
 The glad love-light was in her hazel eyes, a red 
 colour dawned in the clear paleness of her face. 
 She looked a good help-mate for any man; clear- 
 headed, shrewd, gentle, tactful, Elspeth was not to 
 be despised, even for so rising a young politician 
 as Walter Herbert, M.P. 
 
 A lady sitting near, in a wonderful gown of gray 
 cloth and chinchilla fur, with delicate lace and 
 pearls round her neck, and the gleam of diamonds 
 under her chin, looked at the tall girl a little 
 curiously. A very ordinary coat and skirt — and 
 coats and skirts were quite out, — but a striking and 
 a handsome face, and what a wealth of ruddy 
 hair! Hair that would be a pleasure to dress, a 
 joy to arrange, that no money could buy! A 
 truly Eossetti face and throat. She languidly 
 wondered for whom the tall girl waited, and then 
 a man came through the barrier, from the House, 
 a card in his hand, spoke to a policeman, who 
 seemed to point to Elspeth's seat, and she saw 
 that the girl had risen and stood waiting. 
 
 "Good Heavens! If I could blush as divinely 
 as that, I would give a year of my life ! " the other 
 woman thought, and then saw her own member 
 advancing, a wealthy and titled nonentity, of 
 whom she had suddenly thought of making use 
 
 35 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 for bazaar purposes, and she went to greet him, 
 leaving Elspeth to meet her lover unwitnessed. 
 
 " I hope you have not waited long? I have just 
 come in. We may sit down here." 
 
 A tight hand-clasp. Elspeth seemed scarcely to 
 realize anything but that he had never looked so 
 handsome, so well dressed, so prosperous. He was 
 quite London — a part of the great prosperous regal 
 city. Its air, she knew, was as the very breath of 
 his nostrils. " I scarcely expected you so soon. 
 But I should have remembered punctuality is a 
 country virtue," he went on, for she had said 
 nothing, only blushed beautifully, with shining 
 happy eyes. 
 
 " Did you not want me to be punctual?" 
 
 " That is a foolish question." For a moment, 
 the long passage being empty, his hand crossed 
 over hers. Elspeth laughed, the gurgling laugh 
 of happiness and youth. Then she sighed, " But 
 you can't come and dine. You are going to the 
 Speaker's. It sounds so delightful! You must tell 
 me all about it after. How tired he must be, sit- 
 ting in that chair so long! I should have thought 
 he would be too tired to give dinners after. Can 
 you take me to the ladies' gallery to-day? 
 
 " I imagined you might like to go, so I managed 
 to get a ticket from a man whose party did not 
 turn up. You are looking well, Elspeth. Your 
 
Walter's "Furrow" 
 
 colour is radiant! This will be a capital change 
 for you. Everyone should travel. It brushes off 
 provincialities, and though I dare say the old ladies 
 will bore you — " 
 
 " Oh, no, they never do!" 
 
 He raised his handsome eyebrows. " So much 
 the better. You are too bright to be easily bored. 
 I really think you should write your impressions, 
 darling. I could manage to place them for you, 
 I believe, with a touch here and there. You write 
 very well and amusingly, — for an amateur, un- 
 commonly well." 
 
 "Do I really?" She looked up at him with 
 happy eyes. " But — I could not write for publica- 
 tion, Walter. The very idea would freeze me up. 
 It would be like appearing before the foot-lights. 
 Oh, no! you must keep all the literary talents for 
 us both. That last article in the Budget — oh, 
 I thought it was brilliant ! Are you really giving 
 up the Budget'^ For good?" 
 
 " I have given it up. It was too much strain — 
 and the late hours were dreadfully wearing out." 
 He passed his hand over his forehead for a moment, 
 rather wearily. " A man cannot live two lives, 
 Elspeth. I must do a certain amount of literary 
 work, to keep the pot boiling, but not hack-work. 
 Had I even a few hundreds a year the strain would 
 not be so great, and there is my position to con- 
 
 37 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 sider. A man wants all his time when he means 
 to go far in politics; and there are social duties too 
 — wheels within wheels. It is a great game, an 
 absorbing game, and needs one's sole attention." 
 
 He seemed almost for a moment to have for- 
 gotten her personality. She was only a listener. 
 She had always been a good listener, delicately 
 sympathetic, ready always with the right reply, 
 the right assent, and it was like thinking his 
 thoughts aloud now; but his very abstraction and 
 absorption struck a faint chill of disappointment 
 to the girl's heart. Somehow he talked of all this 
 in a strain that, vaguely, she felt, put her outside 
 of it. He was on his own " lonely furrow", as it 
 were, and her fondest dream would have been to 
 walk there by his side. 
 
 " But you are going to win, Walter," she 
 whispered eagerly then. " I see you referred to 
 over and over again in the papers. You were 
 mentioned in Behind the Speaker's Chair as a 
 coming man. I feel so proud of you. So sure of 
 success." 
 
 Few could have resisted the amber, sparkling 
 eyes, the happy smiling lips. He put out his 
 white, carefully - tended hand and pressed hers. 
 Another man might have risked a kiss, for the 
 great lobby was deserted, and only the busy steps 
 sounded from the hall like the distant sound of 
 
 38 
 
Walter's "Furrow" 
 
 a great sea; but not a man so chained to the con- 
 ventionalities as was Herbert. His love was not 
 strong enough to break any chain. 
 
 "You are a very sweet flatterer. Yes, I mean 
 to get on. Things, however, are looking a little 
 uncertain, and one has to be wary. If Eosebery 
 would only — " 
 
 Elspeth listened then, eagerly as usual, but 
 somehow a faint shadow had fallen over her 
 buoyant mood. She sometimes said she "loved 
 politics", but I do not know the woman who would 
 rather talk politics than love with the man she 
 loves; and she had meant to ask him so much, 
 to tell him so much. He had scarcely finished his 
 explanation of the party's difficulties, of the par- 
 ticular pitfalls and snares they had to avoid, before 
 a messenger stood before him with a card. 
 
 "Brabant? Oh, I must go at once! He is the 
 man who put me up all the time at Middleboro' 
 — at the election, I shall take you to the gallery, 
 Elspeth — or show you the way. And you sail on 
 Friday? I doubt if I shall get round to see you. 
 I have to go down to Middleboro' to open a tire- 
 some bazaar, and then on to Liverpool to speak 
 for Lord Horace's candidature. It is just possible 
 I may be back in time to go to the steamer. Send 
 me the time of sailing. Is your father up?" 
 
 " No, he could not leave some bad cases." 
 
 39 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "He should be in town. I have told him so 
 very often. He should take a place in Harley 
 Street and risk things. He wants to push himself. 
 He is clever, but he lacks enterprise and push. 
 This way." 
 
 They were out on the pavement, walking through 
 the great square, with its waiting hansoms and 
 motors and carriages, and its solemn policemen — 
 the beautiful architecture of the House before them 
 — pigeons pecking lazily at the grain under the 
 horses' feet. The bright winter sunlight danced 
 on the scene and threw rich handfuls of gold 
 on the stately windows. Elspeth could see the 
 solemn bulk of the dark old abbey beyond, and 
 the figures of the dead-and-gone statesmen in the 
 square. Beaconsfield seemed to gaze cynically, as 
 of old, upon his faded everlasting wreaths on the 
 sodden grass below. "It is the very heart of 
 London," the girl said suddenly, looking round, 
 " and of the Empire." But there was a feeling 
 of pain strangely mingled with it all. He gave 
 her no part in his share of it. She would not 
 put it into words, but if he had thought less of 
 politics and of his life-battle, and more of her, he 
 would have made her a happier, thrice - happier 
 girl. She would not blame him even in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 They parted at the door of the ladies' gallery, 
 
 40 
 
Walter's "Furrow" 
 
 where he wrung her hand tightly and thanked her 
 for coming, and looked for a moment full into her 
 eyes. After all, she was a very dear and a very 
 handsome girl, he decided, and he was very fond 
 of her. 
 
 " I hope to come," he whispered. " If not, do 
 not forget me. And when you come home, surely 
 then I shall be ready for you." 
 
 The words filled all the void in her heart — made 
 up for all. She could denounce herself fiercely 
 for the faint chill, the little dull ache of disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 He was gone, and she was guilty of turning 
 back to watch him walk away, the policeman's 
 " This way, miss " disregarded. But a carriage 
 had stopped just within the archway, and he was 
 talking, bare-headed, to the lady within. A very 
 handsome woman, in rich furs, a resplendent 
 flunkey and coachman on the box. Walter was 
 answering some apparent raillery, lightly, and yet 
 deferentially. The carriage passed on, the lady 
 waving her hand. 
 
 "Then we shall depend on you for Thursday? 
 Oh, you must! Lady Donfield said she looked 
 upon you as her strong support and great high 
 tower, her rock of defence!" 
 
 Elspeth turned away. " That is the Duchess 
 of Menteith," she heard a girl say behind her. 
 
 41 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " I know her shrill voice. She has taken lately 
 to cajoling some of the Liberal members." 
 
 Elspeth gave the name of her member rather 
 absently. A duchess! And they "looked upon 
 him as a strong support". For what? 
 
 " I think I hate duchesses," Elspeth said to her- 
 self, and was taken up in the lift with a half-rueful 
 laugh. She was too sunny-natured to brood long 
 or to give harbour to such thoughts, however, and 
 she was soon absorbed in the scene below. 
 
 But she could not see Walter, and the debate was 
 dreary. She wanted to be alone and to think of 
 his last words — count them over as a miser counts 
 his jewels. 
 
 For once she could not take her usual delight 
 in her surroundings. Something was wanting. 
 It was the play without Hamlet, and as he did 
 not appear, and she had to go after five to meet 
 the old ladies, she did not wait very long. 
 
 The week was full of frocks and frills, but her 
 fianc6 could not manage to come and dine, and 
 on Thursday Walter sent a wire that he could 
 not get to the steamer. 
 
 Was it the duchess or the lady who depended 
 on him as a "strong support"? Elspeth scolded 
 herself fiercely for asking the question. 
 
 But it stung and burned. 
 
 42 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Through the " Portals of Affliction " 
 
 Elspeth sat on a deck-chair drawn close to the 
 tafFrail, gazing dreamily before her. Breakfast^ 
 if an uneaten meal could be called breakfast, was 
 over, and people had slowly crawled up and 
 collapsed in various stages of exhaustion on the 
 deck. They had just entered the Red Sea, that 
 narrow sand-beset inlet which lies between the 
 Gulf of Suez and the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb 
 (the well-named " Portals of Affliction "), and the 
 sickly, steamy air of that dreaded water — " the 
 sea ", par excellence, for all Eastern exiles — ^lay 
 before them. Eighty hours of suffocation, eighty 
 hours of oven air lay before them. People counted, 
 languidly, drearily. To Elspeth this water was 
 different from all other that she had seen — ^lighter 
 than most, more gray than green, ignorant, oh! 
 so horribly ignorant, of all rush and sparkle, all 
 foam, all life. It impresses you with a sense of 
 thick foulness, of uncleanness. It is water of afflic- 
 tion. And above, a sky that seemed to hang low 
 
 43 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 dowB, a burden pressing upon one, too, witli here 
 and there, as the ship crept on, barren chunks of 
 red rocky islands, rough -hewn with yawning 
 chasms that seemed to gape and gasp for air, as 
 the parched throats on the ship gasped. 
 
 The sky, suffused with a dull-red tinge, was like 
 a burnt-out brick. The winds, red-hot scourges, 
 seemed to lash over the ship, more fiery hot than 
 the sickly air — something that only fretted and 
 chafed, and roused from the languor or sleep that 
 followed a night full of uneasy dreams, of hideous 
 nightmare. Even Elspeth's radiant health was 
 scarcely proof against the depression of the scene, 
 the deadly life-claiming air; and all around her 
 people were stretched in the last stages of ex- 
 haustion. Only youth and ignorance were proof 
 against it. The young subaltern, going out to 
 join his regiment, was full of the insanity of his 
 steward, who had filled his bath with "hot water"; 
 the lunacy of the cook, who provided beef-steak 
 and chops for people who could scarcely have eaten 
 the final chef d'ceuvre of a French cook. He said 
 his appetite required tempting. 
 
 " A man cannot eat chops in an inferno," he 
 wound up. " But men may come and men may 
 go, the ship's meals go on for ever!" 
 
 The old ladies, in the lightest of attire, were 
 fast asleep, painfully, hotly asleep, but blissfully 
 
 44 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 unconscious. All around them lay languid Anglo- 
 Indians, looking as if asleep or dead, pallid, with 
 clenched hands and tense jaws, endurance — a taut 
 hold on endurance — -expressed in their faces till the 
 eighty hours were past. 
 
 Elspeth brought her eyes back at last from the 
 brick-red sky and the last of the parched islands 
 slipping by, and slowly drew up her slippered 
 feet on the deck-chair. It was an effort even to 
 do that. A horrible load of oppression was darken- 
 ing down over her. She felt wild, restless, as 
 if she must keep herself in hand, or she would 
 scream. A vague dread of the future, of this 
 awful parched East, of leaving her father, of 
 leaving Walter, oppressed her. Why had she 
 ever come? Would she see them again? Would 
 she? 
 
 " No, don't, don't give in," a languid voice said 
 at her ear then. "You poor, pretty, fresh girl; 
 don't give in." 
 
 Elspeth, half-startled, looked round. A very 
 delicate-looking woman, one she had never spoken 
 to, a fragile, ivory-complexioned woman, with soft 
 black hair pushed back from the pallid face, was 
 watching her, a faint smile on her tired lips. 
 
 Elspeth tried to smile, her eyes half- full of 
 tears. 
 
 " Tell me," said the languid voice again. " You 
 
 45 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 are going to the East for the first time, and you 
 don't know, of course, the effect the Eed Sea has 
 upon us all. You were so bright only last night. 
 I heard you laughing in the engine-room, at the 
 Scots engineer, a bubbling, delicious laugh, and 
 I thought I would give all I possessed in the 
 world to be able to laugh like that. People forget 
 how to laugh in the East. But just now I saw 
 everything crowding over you. I'm an old hand. 
 I've been here before, shall be again, if I don't 
 die this hot season; so I want to tell you, it won't 
 last! In a very short time you will breathe again, 
 and you will get back your high hopes. By and 
 by you will smell the East, and it will go to your 
 head. The subtle odour of the balmy breezes, 
 all the delicious things one has read of, ' sugar 
 and spice and all that's nice', sandal- wood and 
 ivory, and gold and jewels, cocoa-nut trees, and 
 bamboos, and bread-fruit, and pine- apples and 
 mangoes. Oh, I know! I've smelt them all for 
 the first time too!" 
 
 She had talked on in a low voice, with a curious 
 timbre in it, which haunted Elspeth. There was 
 laughter in the voice, strange laughter and mockery, 
 and somehow a faint bitterness that yet left no 
 sting. The eyes, when she looked round at Elspeth, 
 were very dark blue, so dark that they looked 
 black, and were shaded by long lashes. Fine eyes, 
 
 46 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 but the saddest face the young girl had ever seen, 
 and the expression was generally rather absent to 
 aflfairs of the present moment. 
 
 Elspeth said: " I was feeling dreadfully de- 
 pressed. I couldn't think why. And I am not 
 usually depressed." 
 
 " No, of course not, or you could not have laughed 
 like that. It made me think of my own youth — 
 of days that seem lost now in the shadows of a 
 hundred years. Oh, yes! I'm not so very old. 
 But a woman always counts time by her feelings. 
 Tell me, are you going out to be married? — that 
 is, if you don't mind telling me." 
 
 " No," Elspeth said. " I am leaving the man 
 I am engaged to marry." 
 
 "Ah! That accounts for your depression. Are 
 you going to Ceylon? Singapore?" 
 
 " To Java." 
 
 "Java!" There was a slight inflection of sur- 
 prise. " May I ask what for?" 
 
 " To travel with two friends. Do you know 
 Java?" 
 
 " No. I have heard of it. Has the ubiquitous 
 Mr. Cook marshalled his clans even there? Are 
 you 'doing' it? In so many days?" 
 
 " No, indeed," the girl laughed. " We are not 
 in a hurry. The Miss Bouveries were never in a 
 hurry in their lives. I don't quite know why we 
 
 47 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 are going, except that we heard a very interesting 
 letter from a missionary at our zenana work party, 
 and Miss Bouverie took a fancy to go and see the 
 island." 
 
 Her hearer, Mrs. Evandene, slightly raised her 
 eyebrows. " That sounds like one of the utterly 
 improbable things one reads of in a novel. But 
 real life is, of course, often so wildly improbable. 
 I dare say you will find it very interesting. It 
 will be a vast experience. Do you know that? The 
 East will open your eyes. No woman returns from 
 these gorgeous portals quite the same. I wonder 
 how it will all affect you? In the East one eats 
 of the knowledge of good and evil. That is in- 
 evitable." 
 
 " I hear a good deal of abuse of it," the other 
 said; " but nothing robs me of the fascination. 
 Even the voyage has been a revelation. I shall 
 never forget the first day at Algiers, and my first 
 bamboos and cocoa-nuts." 
 
 " I remember too." She looked away over the 
 long line of the ship to the gray lines of sulkily 
 heaving waters. " One's first voyage, one's first 
 sensation of anything new. And sometimes the 
 East means one's first look into Love's face." 
 
 Elspeth looked up. The voice had a new note; 
 it spoke as if to itself, but was curiously quiet and 
 tender. 
 
 48 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 " I came out," Mrs. Bvandene went on, " to act 
 as governess to my sister's children. I was a 
 penniless girl, a poor vicar's seventh daughter, and 
 no one particularly wanted me at home. These 
 were not the days of typewriting and women's 
 myriad employments. You were hemmed in in a 
 narrow circle, with 'governess' written in letters 
 of fire over your only exit. I started under the 
 captain's charge, in a small liner, with very few 
 passengers. Amongst them was a man travelling 
 under an assumed name. He and I were the only 
 young people in the passengers' list, and we used 
 to sit together and walk together; we could not 
 help being thrown together. He had the saddest 
 face I had ever seen, but he was quite young, and 
 sometimes, when he forgot, he laughed like a boy. 
 We went ashore together. Before we had been on 
 board a few days we knew that we meant all the 
 world to each other. And then the night before 
 we landed he told me the truth — told me his story. 
 We were nearly at Colombo, and I was leaning over 
 the taflfrail — as you will do — smelling the East, and 
 he came up, in the velvety dark, and told me that 
 it was good-bye for ever next day." 
 
 "Why?" Elspeth heard her own voice say. It 
 was almost a whisper. It was hotter than ever, 
 more stifling, a lady further on was moaning feebly 
 in her sleep, a Little child was crying with prickly 
 
 (B30) 49 D 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 heat, its mother looking as if she would fain cry also. 
 She waited a few minutes for the slow answer. It 
 might have been night or day — a timeless heat, 
 that marked neither noon nor daytime nor night. 
 
 " Because he had committed a crime!" ' 
 
 "A crime!" 
 
 "Yes. Are you startled? He did not tell me 
 what it was. It did not seem to matter. It did 
 not separate us. I loved him! Nothing could 
 change that. Perhaps you understand, if you love 
 this man you are leaving?" 
 
 Elspeth did understand, but she had suddenly 
 a wild choking feeling in her throat, an hysterical 
 sob. She could not picture Walter in connection 
 with any crime — her wildest dreams could not 
 connect him and the very word! 
 
 " It was our farewell, there in the dark," the 
 other resumed, turning her head till her eyes were 
 hidden. " He said, ' We shall never see each other 
 again;' and I said, 'That will not matter to my 
 love and my prayers!' He laughed out at that 
 the saddest sound I have ever heard, and said 
 something about a woman's prayers following one 
 to hell. I never saw him again. He took my 
 hands and kissed them, hot kisses that burned me. 
 And then went away. I was met next day. He 
 was invisible. I looked back at the ship and waved 
 my handkerchief. But I did not see him." 
 
 50 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 " And you never saw or heard of him again?" 
 
 " Never. But I do not think he is dead." 
 
 " And you married?" 
 
 " I married Colonel Evandene. Here he is." 
 
 She moved her head languidly as a short middle- 
 aged man of stout habit came slowly towards them, 
 his hot red face mopped with a huge white silk 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Amice," he said, " I wish you would tell me 
 when you go up on deck ! I feel like heat apoplexy. 
 I have had an iced seltzer, which was madness, 
 and I have left my novel on the smoke-room table. 
 By Jove! how horrible these people all look! All 
 except this young lady!" 
 
 He had seated himself heavily on a long cane 
 chair beside Elspeth's, and he now took out a cigar. 
 His eyes blinked at the pretty slight figure in the 
 delicate green lawn dress, the freshly -arranged 
 ruddy hair, the clear delicate bloom. "And you 
 are going out to the East?" he said; "to lose all 
 these roses, what that play-writing fellow called 
 the 'creamy English girl'? Eh? did you tell her, 
 my dear, how foolish she was?" 
 
 " I think my remarks may have tended to have 
 that effect," his wife said. " How is your head?" 
 
 "Sacking! And I have been quarrelling with 
 Deptford over the war, as usual. He is a fool 
 where politics are concerned. And an argumenta- 
 
 51 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 tive fool. If you are going downstairs will you 
 bring up my book? I can't sleep, and this beat is 
 killing!" 
 
 She rose patiently. Somehow the words had 
 sounded like an order. Elspeth, used to her 
 father's manner to all women, looked round sur- 
 prised. It was an exertion to move an arm, and 
 Mrs. Evandene's face seemed to whiten as she stood 
 unsteadily by the chair for a moment as if steady- 
 ing herself 
 
 " I am going down, let me fetch it," Elspeth said 
 then to her; and she ran away before they could 
 forbid her. She remembered now hearing the 
 doctor grumble one day that " that peppery old 
 Evandene used that delicate wiie of his like a 
 white slave". She heard again the tone of the 
 curious voice which said, " I married Colonel 
 Evandene". That meant writing "Finis" to a 
 good deal. 
 
 When she reached the deck once more the 
 soldier seemed more inclined for conversation than 
 for his novel, so she talked, or rather let him talk, 
 while his wife shut her eyes. Elspeth decided she 
 would not look much more pale and restful when 
 she lay dead. 
 
 And then the lunch -bell sounded, clamouring 
 loudly, and one by one the sleepers moved and 
 languidly rose to their feet. 
 
 52 
 
Through the " Portals of Affliction" 
 
 " I feel as if I could eat the leg of a fly, that's 
 the size of my appetite!" the subaltern remarked, 
 as he assisted Elspeth to rise, "and there's a bill 
 of fare downstairs you could tackle on a cold 
 frosty day in the country! Think of the cook's 
 fate on a day like this! Think of the stokers! 
 By Jove! Don't the very words, cold and frost, 
 refresh you? Wish I felt a good old east wind 
 now — say on the links at North Berwick, or St. 
 Andrews! Do you golf, Mrs. Evandenel" 
 
 "Oh, yes! we have golf links at Colombo. We 
 have imported everything into India, except the 
 east wind." She smiled, and then they went 
 down together, her husband telling her to order 
 his "fiz", while Elspeth went to waken the old 
 ladies. 
 
 The long day crawled to its close somehow, and 
 the sun set, the islands disappeared quivering in 
 the heat haze, the sun died in a coppery glow, and 
 down below a mother was singing languidly to a 
 sleepy child. The awnings were taken down. It 
 had been 101 degrees Fahrenheit under a double 
 awning, and people crawled about slowly on the 
 deck, half-alive, they said. 
 
 " Felt my brain sizzling all day," young Manners 
 remarked as he said good-night. " But we'll be 
 out of this soon, thank God! In my school days 
 I always thought the Eed Sea was full of red paint, 
 
 53 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and 'pon my word it's painted red in my brain after 
 to-day! That old Evandene downstairs Las been 
 painting it red for Ms wife! I heard 'em in the 
 cabin opposite. About some of his studs he declares 
 she left in the Cecil. I've been pitying his men, 
 but after all they only have him on parade, and 
 she — she's always on parade. Well, good-night!" 
 
 Mrs. Evandene had come up quietly, and she 
 stood by Elspeth's side now, looking absently over 
 the water. She wore a thin black dress of trans- 
 parent cr^pe which made her look more shadowy 
 than ever. There was a kind of faint smile on 
 her face as she said, after a little: "That boy was 
 talking about me ! I suppose he heard Hugh. But 
 Hugh does not mean anything; it is only manner, 
 and I am case-hardened. After a little, Elspeth, 
 one grows hardened to anything. I don't know if I 
 ever asked if I might call you Elspeth. It sounds 
 pretty, and fresh, and Scottish!" 
 
 " I liked your name," Elspeth said, " and it is 
 uncommon." 
 
 " Is it? I wanted to ask you the name of your 
 old ladies. Is one called Lavender?" 
 
 "Yes," Elspeth answered, rather surprised. "How 
 did you know ? " 
 
 " I fancied I heard her sister call her. Her eyes 
 have haunted me all day. She reminds me of 
 someone I once knew. Well, good-night! I don't 
 
 54 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 know what made me tell you that story. It is 
 such aa old story!" 
 
 They smiled in each other's faces suddenly, and 
 Elspeth put her arms round the other's neck. She 
 was not usually demonstrative, but it was an im- 
 pulse which came so naturally that she could not 
 resist it. Amice Evandene let her hand rest for 
 a moment on the tall shoulder of this happy girl. 
 Then, still smiling, she went downstairs. 
 
 When they awoke, by and by, to find the bath 
 water comparatively cold — and a faint, faint tinge 
 of life in the air — the ship gasped and rejoiced. 
 Things grew natural — events took their proper 
 sequence and proportion. The subaltern resumed 
 his mild flirtation with the little French governess. 
 Miss Lavender found her tatting and Miss Horatio 
 her sock. Mrs. Evandene read to her husband 
 (who said his eyes were weak) behind the captain's 
 cabin, and a concert was arranged. 
 
 And then they neared Colombo, and Elspeth felt 
 her whole spirit rise in ecstasy — the ecstasy of a 
 new sensation — as the balmy breezes swept over 
 the ship, and it cleft the waters on and ever on to 
 where the East beckoned to her. A thousand 
 fruits, luscious, perfumed — a dream of gorgeous 
 marble palaces and jewelled walls, of white-robed, 
 dusky figures swept before her — the deadly de- 
 pression, the horrible, sultry, choking air of the 
 
 66 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Red Sea were things of the past. They had gone 
 through the "portals of affliction". Yet she re- 
 membered them again, and the story Amice Evan- 
 dene had told her when she waved good-bye to 
 that lady and her husband last of all. The night 
 before, her friend had given her a little gold cross 
 on a slender chain. It had belonged, she said, to 
 her mother. She had worn it herself, then she 
 gave it to her two-year-old baby, who had died. 
 " And he had eyes like yours." 
 
 " I wonder if she will live long!" Elspeth thought, 
 her hand on the cross, as she waved her handker- 
 chief. " I was never so sorry for anyone in this 
 world. She had such tired eyes — one longed to 
 close them and kiss them asleep." 
 
 And then Miss Lavender claimed her, to know 
 if they were to go ashore, and if this was the place 
 where they saw the cinnamon gardens and the 
 Holy Tooth? There was something about a tooth, 
 was there not? — but whose, or why it was kept, 
 she forgot. She wished that people did not think 
 it necessary to keep odd things like that. Mum- 
 mies were worse than teeth — and had Elspeth seen 
 her red parasol? 
 
 " I wonder whose eyes Miss Lavender's reminded 
 her of," Elspeth was saying to herself as she tied 
 the old lady's tussore cloak, and rearranged her 
 ideas, apparently chaotic, as to what she was to see 
 
 56 
 
Through the "Portals of Affliction" 
 
 when landing. " They are very pretty eyes, and 
 as bright as a child's. I wonder if mine will be as 
 happy at Miss Lavender's age!" 
 
 Vaguely she felt that she was not sure. Then, 
 I am afraid she forgot Mrs. Evandene for a little. 
 
 57 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Uninvited Guests 
 
 " The post has been here, my friend. He has 
 brought for you, as usual, many letters and a heap 
 of papers. The post staggered as he walked. One 
 day he will require a piccolan for the mail of Tuan 
 Beresford and two extra coolies." 
 
 "Oh, shut up. Van Delden! Send them out 
 here. I'm half-asleep. Old Van Dorp was ill, and 
 I took his watch. Please call the boy to bring the 
 pahit (bitters)." 
 
 Dick Beresford sat down on a long cane chair 
 and waited, while his friend shouted " boy " in the 
 background, presently resuming his favourite song. 
 It seemed rather a curious one in the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " What though the balmy breezes 
 Blow soft o'er Java's Isle 
 Where every prospect pleases — 
 
 "How goes it, Dick? I forget, always, the last 
 
 line." 
 
 "And only man is vilel 
 58 
 
Uninvited Guests 
 
 " Especially the men at the vacuum-pans! I found 
 them all asleep to-day and a whole 'vacuum' ruined." 
 
 Dick yawned, and then threw back his fair curly 
 head. His eyes were twinkling a little as Van 
 Delden took up his song. Van Delden had learned 
 his English from a Scots engineer on a Dutch man- 
 of-war, and he always rolled his r's. Dick used to 
 tell him he had a Scots accent. But he loved 
 everything English, and they always talked in that 
 language. And Van Delden was such a rattling 
 good fellow! 
 
 So the song went on in the background, and 
 Dick waited for letters and pahit, all unconscious 
 of the bomb ready for him, and thinking, half- 
 absently, of the sugar prospects, of his new horse, 
 of the pig-hunting on which he was going next day. 
 He did not think much of the letters. He had 
 few relations, and the magazines were all his own 
 order, despatched with punctuality by a London 
 firm. 
 
 Before him there stretched a magnificently- 
 shaded road, bordered on both sides by towering 
 canary and tamarind trees, down whose cool, dusky 
 length there passed a stream of natives and native 
 equipages — ceaseless, myriad, entrancing. The 
 natives were like bees — one realized Java's thirty 
 millions, as Dick sometimes remarked, on that road. 
 It was like a stream that ran on ceaselessly, like a 
 
 59 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 river that knew no apparent ebb or flow — swarms 
 of children, troops of ha/rhows (buffaloes) with 
 large, heavily-shaped heads, flocks of ducks and 
 geese, gabbling fussily, wagons laden with cane, 
 pedlars carrying piccolans containing every kind 
 of fruit, fish, meat, stores. The children were 
 usually naked; there were babies in thousands, 
 gazing with solemn dusky eyes from the invari- 
 able slendang, or scarf, in which they were 
 carried and from which the small brown legs 
 depended; curious wagons with bamboo or straw 
 roofs, and others from which the purple plum- 
 coloured stems of the sugar-cane obtruded; fawn- 
 coloured sapies (native oxen) with the wooden 
 yoke one sees in old Bible pictures, resting on the 
 sofb wrinkled necks, before the hump begins. They 
 paced along the great dusty highway, which was 
 covered with the imprint of many thousand native 
 feet, with a soft and gentle step, their curious, lum- 
 bering, indescribable, chaotic vehicle groaning be- 
 hind them. Sometimes Dick would point out to 
 his friend that the frame of the wagon was made 
 of a Tate's Sugar, or a Sunlight Soap box — with 
 somebody's English advertisement for starch or 
 cocoa running side by side with a Japanese or 
 Chinese prayer on the wheels. 
 
 It was all like a panorama this evening; the 
 slanting light through the waving branches, where 
 
 60 
 
Uninvited Guests 
 
 the regal-looking trees caught the sunset glow, 
 here and there sudden glowing masses of red 
 hibiscus or the sharply -cut, picturesque leaves 
 of the cocoa-nut palms, — soft, irregular, and dusty 
 bamboos — dry, and hoarsely rustling, — and these 
 myriad figures, walking on and ever on with their 
 noiseless footfall. 
 
 Dick let his eyes rest on the scene in lazy con- 
 templation, when, by and by, a funeral passed — 
 a Chinese funeral, with its white-robed procession, 
 its pathetic figures with hidden faces, the bier also 
 spotlessly draped. Then came a band of Arabs 
 with bright glowing turbans and gorgeous scarves. 
 Finally the dim perspective of branches swallowed 
 these up too, and Dick watched the mourning pro- 
 cession disappear into the distance. 
 
 " If I could paint," he was thinking, " there are 
 pictures there, and good pictures. That red-and- 
 yellow umbrella, for instance, which the poor 
 beggars hold so carefully over the bier, and the 
 veiled figures, and the long, long road, and the 
 great holy trees. I must ask Van Delden about 
 the holy trees, if they are still — " 
 
 " The letters for Tuan." 
 
 He put out his hand and took them lazily, but 
 he drank his pahit first before he looked at them, 
 resting his head back on the chair. A handsome 
 face, strong and good-humoured, with brown eyes 
 
 61 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 which had a humorous twinkle, a well-cut mouth, 
 and a firm chin. For the rest the indescribably 
 British look which some people will tell you is 
 dogmatic and disagreeable and aggressive, and 
 others merely a matter of good grooming and in- 
 cessant tubbing, and perhaps a " good conceit of 
 yourself". 
 
 At last Dick put out his hand and took up the 
 first letter. It had been misdirected, and had 
 apparently travelled a good deal. Dick regarded 
 the envelope with a grin. 
 
 "My Uncle Nathaniel, in whom is no guile! 
 The wrong address. Perhaps I never gave him 
 the new one. I wonder what the little parson has 
 to say. Good fussy little soul! How I used to 
 sleep by the time he reached 'And fourthly, my 
 beloved '. He always called us ' beloved ', aU ex- 
 cept me when I fell into the horse-pond. Then 
 he — HuUoa! what's this?" His eyes, wandering 
 over the first few sentences as he thus solilo- 
 quized, reached and appeared to assimilate the 
 following : — 
 
 " So these good ladies have my instructions 
 to look you up, and I know you will show them 
 all hospitality for my sake. They will write and 
 announce their arrival. Miss Horatio is most 
 anxious to see the interior of Java — to see home- 
 
 62 
 
Uninvited Guests 
 
 life in the tropics. She is a most intelligent 
 woman. Do your best for them, my dear boy. 
 I may add that Sophia is sending with them your 
 grandmother's silver tea-pot, which she thinks you 
 ought to have in your own charge. Sophia re- 
 commends you strongly, she says, to keep it in 
 a flannel bag, and locked up. We are all well, 
 though Freddy's glands — " 
 
 Here Dick's attention wandered again, and only 
 finally took up the thread with " Your afiectionate 
 uncle, 
 
 NATHANIEL TUBES." 
 
 "Coming here! Coming here! Impossible! 
 Three Drelinford old maids; it's like the title of 
 a comic song. Three old maids. Here! To us!" 
 He sat up wildly and ransacked his correspondence. 
 Yes. Here was a brief note, also redirected, also 
 a travelled epistle. Miss Horatio wrote from a 
 Samarang hotel. She begged to introduce herself, 
 and to say they would take the liberty of coming 
 to see him on the 18th, and unless they heard to 
 the contrary would take carriage from Djocya that 
 evening. He was to take no trouble for them, as 
 they were quite accustomed to travelling now, 
 and knew how busy he would be. "The 18th," 
 Dick gasped. "The 18th! Coming here! Van 
 Delden! I say! Van Delden!" 
 
 63 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "I come, my friend. What is it? You excite 
 yourself." 
 
 " So will you when you hear what it is," Dick 
 cried, the magazines cast at his feet and the pahit 
 glasses upset and broken. " Listen to this. You've 
 heard me speak of my Uncle Tubbs? The little 
 parson. Well he's taken leave of his senses! He 
 is a dangerous lunatic!" 
 
 "Bliksem!" Van Delden uttered, sufficiently 
 appalled. "And he has killed, perhaps, his wife 
 and family? He has run amok." 
 
 "Worse. He has sent three old maids! — three 
 old maids! — oh, you don't know English old maids 
 in a country village — ^here! To us! They want 
 to see a Javanese interior. I suppose they think 
 we live the life of the savage, and it will be a 
 grand exercise for missionary zeal; and you know 
 women are all crazy about proselytizing now- 
 adays, and going to the land's ends. He is send- 
 ing them here! To you and me! Moreover, 
 they arrive to-night. Please to realize that! 
 To-night!" 
 
 Van Delden opened his eyes and his mouth. 
 He gasped also, and rumpled up his exceedingly 
 straight hair. It stood up like a scrubbing-brush 
 all over his head already. " We will wire," he 
 said. "We wiU send off at once. We will say 
 we cannot — that we have cholera and small-pox, 
 
 64 
 
B30 
 'VAN DELDEN GASPED, AND RUMPLED UP HIS EXCEEDINGLY 
 STRAIGHT hair" 
 
Uninvited Guests 
 
 an illness of a hatefully infectious type. No lady 
 would risk that." 
 
 "There's no time." Dick stood up and glared 
 at the broken glass speechlessly. "They haven't 
 left us time. They are hiring from Djocya. You 
 know that awful carriage with the four rats of 
 horses and the shrieking lopers. They will be in 
 hysterics by the time they reach here, which should 
 be in half an hour. Van Delden ! Van Delden ! 
 where are they to sleep?" 
 
 " We give to them up our rooms." The Dutch- 
 man recovered himself first, and now sat down 
 opposite to Dick, taking out his cigarette - case. 
 " Calm yourself, my friend. They are of your 
 nation, and it is a travelling nation. Also they 
 are the friends of your Oom Tobbs. You have 
 told me he whipped you as a boy. Here is the 
 opportunity of cinders alight on his bald head. 
 It is your expression, is it not? And I shall im- 
 prove my English and pick up the lady-like ex- 
 pressions as I converse. For me it will be very 
 good that they are here." 
 
 " Yes, I dare say. You'll have to forget a jolly 
 lot you learned from that blasphemous old Scot," 
 Dick growled, " before you launch out with them. 
 They are good Sunday-school Low Church ladies. 
 Give up our rooms! And we — " 
 
 " We sleep on chairs in the veranda." 
 
 (B30) 65 E 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " Devoured with mosquitoes?" 
 
 " Perhaps. For one night. Then I go to 
 Madame DisselhoflF and I make my request. She 
 is an angel from heaven, and she will lend me two 
 beds, which we will put in the guest-chamber. It 
 will be an amusement to her. And she talks the 
 language as one from London." 
 
 " She is an angel," Dick agreed. "And that idea 
 sounds very well. But the food! They will never 
 eat ryst-tafel. They will want tea, and toast, and 
 roast beef! Fussy English dishes." 
 
 " Well, we will roast the beef and the bread. 
 Soeda (Enough), my friend; we say no more. We 
 will give them a good time, and they will go away 
 happy. For the good Oom Tobbs it is not much 
 to do. He has whipped the evil one from you as 
 a boy, and society and Java owe him a debt." 
 
 "Don't you go mentioning the evil one in that 
 airy way before the Tabbies. 1 remember we called 
 them that. I seem to remember side-curls and 
 circular waterproofs, and I almost think — Van 
 Delden, what is that?" 
 
 The two men turned round sharply, warned by 
 a sudden scattering of the crowd before the house. 
 Through the bamboo gate now there suddenly 
 turned a curious archaic little carriage, drawn by 
 four small horses, inextricably and wildly harnessed 
 by rope, and preceded by two tatterdemalions, 
 
 66 
 
Uninvited Guests 
 
 who shrieked and yelled in advance, and finally 
 ran to the horses' heads as they drew up abruptly 
 before the veranda steps. The hosts stood as if 
 rooted to the ground. A lamp, brought by the 
 boy, unnoticed in the discussion, showed their 
 aghast and bewildered faces, their spotless linen 
 suits, the broken glass on the floor, the scattered 
 magazines. Behind, three or four native servants, 
 in brightly-hued sarongs and gay handkerchiefs, 
 stood as if bewildered, between the veranda and 
 the inner hall, from which opened the bed-room 
 doors. It was a little oasis of light after the dark 
 mysterious road, with its myriad natives carrying 
 torches, after the wild shrieking lopers and the 
 rattling gallop of the fiery little steeds. 
 
 The two old ladies seemed dismayed, breathless, 
 gasping. They gazed round as if bewildered, 
 clasping their travelling-bags. And then Dick and 
 Van Delden were confusedly conscious of a tall 
 figure in a pale-blue cotton gown alighting from 
 the crazy carriage, and of a brilliant face, all 
 English white and red, smiling upon them as 
 Elspeth stepped down on the veranda. 
 
 "Here we are," she said; "and I'm afraid you 
 did not expect us so soon. But we have driven as if 
 — as if — we were fleeing for our lives, and we have 
 broken down, and mended our harness, seven times, 
 and we are quite deafened by those shrieking 
 
 67 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 demons! Miss Horatio, I think this must be Mr. 
 Beresford." 
 
 She assisted the old lady. Van Delden, polite, 
 ecstatic, flew to Miss Lavender's side. Dick came 
 to himself with a gasp, but he did nothing, and his 
 friend was master of the ceremonies and of the 
 situation. Van Delden rose beautifully to the 
 situation in a bound. 
 
 So these were the Tabbies! But who — who 
 was "She"? 
 
 Already she was " She"! now, and for aU time. 
 
 68 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 In the Veranda 
 
 "And I beg that you will tell me, my friend, 
 without apology or delay, what in my conversa- 
 tion is unfit for the ladies. It is true that the 
 dialogue of the engine-room is unlikely to be 
 always fit for their ears; but to a foreigner it 
 is perhaps difficult to discriminate, so that I rely 
 on your good aid. I have not hitherto con- 
 versed with the English lady." 
 
 "You really talk like a native, Herman," Dick 
 said easily. They were walking back from the 
 mill, down the beautiful road, and it was the 
 hour immediately preceding sunset. "Miss Ho- 
 ratio was saying only to-day that your command 
 of the language was quite phenomenal. Miss 
 Macdouald said you were as slangy as an Eton 
 boy." 
 
 "Slangy? I like not slangy!" Van Delden 
 glanced suspiciously at his friend. " I have asked 
 her to correct me, and she has laughed. Saperlot I 
 what a laugh; it is as the music of the heavens!" 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Dick shrugged his shoulders, smiling rather 
 quizzically. Van Delden lost his heart so often 
 that he was used to these raptures. " She's a 
 nice girl," he remarked soberly. " But it's a rum 
 go altogether their being here. And I don't think 
 they intend making a flying visit either." 
 
 "God forbid!" 
 
 "From the old lady's talk I gathered that; she 
 insisted on squaring up about the expenses last 
 night — would not hear of anything else; and 
 then remarked that she wished to see all that 
 there was to be seen in the island, after they 
 had settled down a bit. I told her I'd set you 
 on to tell her all about the temples. But it 
 always strikes me as odd their taking such an 
 idea into their heads — at their age! You can 
 employ your time to-night telling her about the 
 antiquities. You could trot out all your photo- 
 graphs too." 
 
 " I will not," Van Delden announced calmly. 
 
 " I have made the engagement to sing with 
 Miss Macdonald. She is to sing me the English 
 ballad and the Scots. You may the photographs 
 to trot yourself, with Miss Horatio and the little 
 lady. You are the mine host. Is it not?" 
 
 "No, it isn't, any more than you." Dick was 
 inclined to be a little wrathful. " And I say, 
 Van Delden, did you order the wine and give the 
 
 70 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 cook her instructions? Can't she make a pudding? 
 Women all like puddings. Also the soup — it is 
 fearful soup! Can't you speak about it?" 
 
 "Yes; and I have told her the pudding. It 
 is 'pfanne kuchen' with palm-sugar. To-morrow 
 morning I take Miss Macdonald to the market. 
 She has said to me that she loves a market, and 
 that she wishes to understand the products of 
 the island and see them au naturel." 
 
 If it struck Dick that his friend was making 
 the best of his opportunities, he said nothing, 
 for they had turned in at the gate, leaving the 
 softly-hurrying crowds of natives, and they could 
 now see before them the low bungalow with its 
 surrounding cocoa - nuts and bamboos, the dark 
 circle of the garden, studded here and there 
 with orange -trees and coffee -trees, the white 
 waxy petals of which scented the air with sweet 
 cloying fragrance. 
 
 The lamps had just been carried into the 
 veranda, but had not been turned up, and Dick 
 could see a white flitting figure, now at the 
 window of Miss Horatio's bed-room, now arranging 
 a great vase of tuberoses and roses on the side- 
 table. 
 
 His pulse quickened a little as he looked, 
 following in Van Delden's wake rather slowly. 
 They had been some weeks in Sidjokarta now — 
 
 71 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 only three brief weeks, yet already all the world 
 had changed to Beresford. Sometimes it seemed 
 to him that he had not known what life was 
 till that night when she stepped from the Djocya 
 carriage and smiled upon them both. Since then 
 she had slipped into a niche in the house, doing 
 useful things in a way which was inexpressibly 
 charming, with a tact and a grace that were 
 unequalled. Little by little things in the dis- 
 orderly household grew orderly. There were 
 clean table-cloths ; there were no longer holes. 
 There were flowers on the table, and the bottle 
 of Worcester sauce — hitherto its sole adornment 
 was relegated to the sideboard; the veranda, 
 erstwhile a wilderness of stifihess, with its marble- 
 topped table and four chairs, was altered as if 
 by magic after the visit of some Indian pedlars, 
 who went away enriched and happy, blessing the 
 memsahibs who paid without question, and bought, 
 as all memsahibs should. 
 
 Dick could scarcely recognize the place when 
 he entered now — the lightly-swaying bead portiere 
 between the veranda and the inner room, the 
 yellow silken curtains at the windows, the Japan- 
 ese screens and kakemonos, roses everywhere, 
 and beyond, the daintily-set table, with its few 
 gracefully-arranged flowers. 
 
 " I really could not keep my hands ofi" things," 
 
 72 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 Elspeth tad said to the old ladies. "They say 
 native servants always rob two helpless men! 
 I hear that they all do. By and by we will 
 raid the kitchen! Oh, I'm sure he won't mind! 
 Mr. Van Delden said we might look on the whole 
 place as our own. He never does things by half- 
 measures! He said he gave me 'the white sheet'! 
 It sounded penitential, but I know what he meant." 
 
 "A very pleasant man, but given to extra- 
 ordinary language now and then," Miss Horatio 
 remarked. " I think Dick ought to correct him 
 — I really do." 
 
 " I dare say he does, in private," Elspeth said. 
 "Mr. Beresford is still in the shy stage with us. 
 How like a Briton! Here we have the Dutch- 
 man perfectly at home and at his ease with 
 three strange Englishwomen!" 
 
 " But I like Dick best," Miss Lavender put in 
 at this point. "And then it is so nice to think 
 he is dear Mr. Tubbs's nephew — a link, so to 
 speak, with Drelinford. He always tells me what 
 time it is in England — calculates it so cleverly! I 
 must say it is very confusing, and I really don't 
 see how time alters as it does. We sleeping, 
 they at .dinner. I do feel so turned upside down. 
 But, oh, dear me! there is the gong and I am 
 not nearly ready!" 
 
 Van Delden was waiting when they entered, 
 
 73 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 to hand them ceremoniously to their seats; and 
 Dick hurried in, in his new dinner-coat, a trifle 
 anxious as to the food, though that was his 
 friend's province. The dinner was longer than 
 usual, and no comment was made, though the 
 soup was hot water flavoured with grease, and the 
 cook had apparently emptied the mustard-bottle 
 into the curry in mistake for curry-powder. Van 
 Delden gulped wildly, said " Thunder!" explosively, 
 and then properly and humbly apologized. 
 
 " I beg the million pardon," he said with a low 
 bow and a deeply abashed look. "What I had 
 meant to say was what the mischief the cook 
 had meant by — " 
 
 Another vicious admonition of Dick's toe, 
 and again the unhappy Dutchman floundered 
 wildly. Elspeth broke in, laughter in her voice, 
 and as if rather dreading what he might say next. 
 
 "The mustard bottle is very like the curry one," 
 she said. " And as the boy told Mr. Van Delden 
 cook was asleep till just before dinner, I suppose 
 things got hurried. Your cooks must be a great 
 trial, Mr. Van Delden. Do tell Miss Horatio 
 about the one who basted the Christmas goose 
 with cocoa-nut oil, and was found asleep in the 
 kitchen with her head in the pan!" 
 
 " What distresses me is the falsehoods they 
 seem to tell," Miss Horatio said. " Is nothing 
 
 74 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 done about it? Doesn't anyone make them go 
 to church?" 
 
 Van Delden stared politely, then shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 "There is no church, madame. They are 
 Mohammedans ! " 
 
 "Well, I would not care what they were. I 
 suppose lies are lies, even in their language; and 
 a Javanese lie is as bad as an English one." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." Van Delden was looking 
 slightly overpowered. " But you see you would 
 have to go back to the very beginning. Most 
 of them think it so clever to tell lies! I had 
 one cook — that woman would have deceived the 
 Sherlock Holmes of your novels. And when she 
 went away to bury her great-grandmother (for 
 the fiftieth time), with a month's voorschot 
 (advance), she had taken with her all my silver 
 spoons!" 
 
 "And you did not follow and have her 
 arrested?" 
 
 Miss Horatio sat bolt upright. 
 
 "I have never found her. Good gracious me!" 
 He had evidently searched wildly for an expletive 
 which would be quite safe and harmless. "Anyone 
 could hide in Java. You might as well search 
 for a needle in a flask of hay as for a criminal 
 here. It is your saying, is it not?" 
 
 75 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 The pancakes were being handed round at this 
 point. Miss Horatio kept the boy waiting for 
 some time, her eyes fixed sharply and suddenly 
 on the speaker's placid face. 
 
 "A criminal?" she repeated in an odd voice. 
 "How? Why should it be so easy?" 
 
 " Because you'll never get a Javanese to swear 
 against the culprit. They'll tell you a dozen 
 lies and flat contradictions in five minutes. Very 
 often they won't appear. If they see a dead man 
 in a rice-field, with a stab in his back, they'll 
 pretend they don't, in case they have to give 
 evidence. Besides, there's no catching them. 
 There was a Dutchman who had a row with an- 
 other man, and shot him in the back, on a coffee 
 estate near here. He took to the wilds, went up 
 the Slamat, and no one has ever heard of him 
 since. People say the bungalow is haunted, and 
 that the dead man comes and divides the mosquito- 
 curtains, and stares in on the sleeper, pointing to 
 his wound; but that doesn't bring his murderer 
 to justice! It is a strange place. Yes, I could 
 tell you the stories to make your blood congeal! 
 Up country there are wild tragedies. I will tell 
 you one." 
 
 " Look here, Van Delden," Beresford put in 
 at this point, " are you aware that you are 
 ruining the ladies' appetites? Miss Bouverie is 
 
 76 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 quite pallid, and Miss Lavender has not touched 
 her fowl." 
 
 "It is very terrible," Miss Lavender murmured. 
 " Could the dear young Queen of Holland not do 
 anything about it? And about the falsehoods? 
 If she were to introduce Sunday-schools! I 
 remember your uncle telling me about a little 
 boy, an incorrigible fibber, and how he would 
 tell fibs even to the dear vicar. And they tried 
 everything — bad marks, and tasks, and being 
 kept in — and then at last one of the curates caned 
 him. I don't think it was Mr. Tubbs. And there 
 was little Joey Lu — Is this a mangosteen? Oh, 
 thank you; I should love to taste one!" 
 
 She forgot her story then, and the talk drifted 
 into other subjects less lurid; but Miss Horatio 
 ate no fruit, and when they went into the back 
 veranda, which faced the garden, she sat down, 
 pale and silent, and let her tatting fall into her 
 lap. The sweet sickly scent of the cofiee-blossom 
 breathed in her face, the sharp edges of the cocoa- 
 nut trees caught the moonlight, every now and 
 then a mosquito hummed by, but her thoughts 
 were very far away from Java. She had never 
 dared confide her story to anyone. The slightest 
 hint, she fancied, might be fatal. She had hoped 
 to hear of Harry indirectly ; she had made sure all 
 the English would be noted. But there seemed 
 
 77 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 to be a great many, and Mr. Van Delden had 
 said it was the easiest thing for a criminal to 
 hide in Java. She shivered as she thought. 
 A criminal! Yes, he was really that. And she 
 could never tell anyone. The secret was his and 
 hers only in all the world, now that her father 
 was dead. If he — 
 
 She broke ofi then, aware that the dark form 
 of a native was passing behind the bead curtains 
 which separated the side of the veranda from the 
 garden. Coolies were constantly coming or going, 
 or messengers from the mill. She had her back to 
 them now. 
 
 In the veranda itself Elspeth was seated at the 
 piano, and her sweet voice floated through the 
 soft and perfumed dusk. Her face, delicately 
 coloured like a rose, was in the full glow of the 
 lamp; Van Delden stood behind, his head in 
 shadow. The Misses Bouverie were old-fashioned 
 enough to like old-fashioned ballads, and Elspeth 
 always sang to please them. And then she wound 
 up with a Scots song, thinking of her father as 
 she sang. It was one of his favourites: 
 
 " It's no that she's Jamie's ava', ava', 
 It's no that she's Jamie's ava', ava', 
 That maks my heart eerie when a' the lave's cheery. 
 But just that she'll aye be awa', awa', 
 But just that she'll aye be awa'." 
 78 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 "What is that 'to mak the heart eerie'?" 
 Van Delden asked when the sweet voice ceased. 
 "What is it to make a heart 'eerie'? I know 
 not the expression." 
 
 Miss Horatio, sitting cold and stiffly in the back- 
 ground, fancied she could have told him. She was 
 in the cold grasp of the past to-night. 
 
 Dick was showing Miss Lavender photographs 
 at a side-table, and teaching her Malay, his eyes 
 a trifle absent-minded. Was ever so sweet a 
 voice? It stole away his heart, drew it from 
 him with chains of sweetest melody, chained 
 it to hers for ever and ever. A voice to linger 
 with in the twilight, in tune with that sweet 
 pure hour, in tune with thoughts of peace, and 
 prayer, and love. A voice in a thousand; one to 
 miss in heaven if it were not there. 
 
 " I am really very much obliged to you," Miss 
 Lavender said then as they rose. " And now 
 I think I will go to bed; I grow sleepier and 
 sleepier. What a beautiful night, and how clear 
 the stars are in the Cross! Elspeth, dear, look! 
 I wish Mr. Tubbs could see the Cross. He said 
 he heard it was overrated." 
 
 They all went to the back then, and Elspeth 
 stood with white tip-tilted chin, looking up at 
 the glowing jewel-bespangled firmament and the 
 glittering Cross. Her thoughts flew to those she 
 
 79 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 loved best, to Walter and to her father. Her 
 lover's letter was nearly due. Walter, who was 
 working hard and fighting in the great London 
 arena to make a home for her. Her dear father 
 in the dull little village — No, she could not bear 
 to think of him. 
 
 " The Southern Cross really makes me realize 
 I am in the East," she said, looking down slowly 
 at Dick. Van Delden was playing the " Sonata 
 Appassionata" superbly, and the lovely music blent 
 with her voice. "I think it is beautiful! I love 
 to see it! I wonder if it means — a great deal — to 
 people in the East. A lady I met on board, an 
 Anglo -Indian, said it had helped her through 
 her life." 
 
 Dick nodded slowly, that was all. She had 
 spoken as if scarcely to a listener — he noticed 
 that. She had not taken much notice of Dick 
 since she came. Van Delden did most of the 
 talking. 
 
 " Do you like the East?" she asked then sud- 
 denly. "Are you home-sick ever?" 
 
 "To be home -sick a man must have had a 
 home," he said, and laughed rather bitterly. " I 
 never had a home. I boarded with the ' Oom 
 Tobbs', as Van Delden calls him. I was always 
 boarding, somewhere. Later I was at school and 
 college — boarding still! Aunt Sophia used to 
 
 80 
 
In the Veranda 
 
 lecture me a good deal in the holidays, though 
 I dare say she meant well. I was always falling 
 into things, or breaking my bones. That is very 
 tiresome. Then my money was lost in an unfor- 
 tunate investment, and I came out here, and 
 chummed with Van Delden, and got the post of 
 fabricatie chef in a sugar- mill, through some 
 Dutch college-friends. I don't know exactly the 
 feeling of home-sickness, not being able quite to 
 make up my mind which is my home. England 
 was never particularly kind to me. I had almost 
 no relations, except ' Oom Tobbs' and old Admiral 
 Beresford. He is my father's brother, but he had 
 too many boys of his own to look after a kid like 
 me." 
 
 " It all sounds rather desolate." 
 
 "Does it? Oh, I don't know! The only person 
 I remember liking in the village was the man who 
 set my arm after one of the periodical accidents. 
 He sat up a whole night telling me stories. A 
 man with kind eyes — a doctor, I suppose. He — " 
 
 " It was my father," Elspeth said, a little catch 
 in her voice. "He was always good to everyone, 
 and especially to lonely boys." 
 
 "Your father?" 
 
 He seemed pleased, and he smUed. Elspeth 
 thought idly how his quiet face changed, and how 
 pleasant some brown eyes were. 
 
 (B30) 81 F 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Then the sonata finished, and Van Delden came 
 to their side. 
 
 " You play that superbly," Elspeth said in her 
 frank girlish voice. " See, the servants are huddled 
 there beside the kitchen listening. And that man 
 is still at the gate. Do you see him? He looks 
 almost a part of the cocoa-nut tree, but he isn't. 
 A native, too." 
 
 Van Delden, who had keen eyes, looked closely. 
 
 " He is tall for a native. Perhaps he is a hadji. 
 Dick — do you see?" 
 
 His voice was curiously watchful, suddenly alert. 
 
 "It is not Pa-Eeis back?" he said. " I thought 
 he had gone to Mecca again." 
 
 " I fancy Pa-Reis is at Mecca. I trust so!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because the baas says the men are — Oh, 
 good-night, Miss Lavender!" 
 
 Miss Horatio came up after her sister. Elspeth 
 had turned away a little curious. Who was Pa- 
 Eeis? Why should they talk suddenly in that 
 covert, rather anxious way? And then Van 
 Delden was telling her he would be ready to 
 take her to the market at daybreak next day, 
 and she too went ofi to her room. 
 
 82 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 It was barely seven, but already there was a 
 golden dazzle and glitter of heat even under the 
 huge trees which shaded the road before the bun- 
 galow. The market had been in full swing before 
 six o'clock. They were late, Van Delden an- 
 nounced, as they passed from the great shady 
 highway to the open space where the market was 
 kept — late, and he feared she would feel the heat. 
 Elspeth laughed at the suggestion with the easy 
 disdain of the new-comer whose red blood flows 
 still briskly through her veins. She was a con- 
 trast to the languid ladies and the half-castes, 
 who were already making their purchases, fol- 
 lowed by the cook at a respectful distance. As 
 a rule the Dutch lady does not do her own 
 marketing, and many were the glances cast after 
 the tall girl in the soft white gown and shady 
 hat. All the other nonjahs (ladies) were in the 
 native dress — the gaily-coloured sarong and white, 
 rather shapeless jacket; the loose, heeled sandals 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 or " slofs ", scuffling rather untidily as they 
 walked. 
 
 Many little bamboo shops lined the long square, 
 a gaudy kaleidoscope; gorgeous tropical fruit 
 covered the ground, a riot of colour, a glory of 
 perfume, with vegetables galore. Elspeth stopped 
 before the fruit, longing, she said, for an artist's 
 brush, and Van Delden filled the basket which 
 she had insisted on bringing, piling it high with 
 mangoes and pines, mangosteens, salacks, and 
 bananas, and then he handed it to the dusky- 
 eyed cook and her satellite, who followed in meek 
 and chastened bewilderment. No really distin- 
 guished nonjah went to market. They could not 
 understand the doings of this strange "En- 
 gerese" nonjah at all. 
 
 "We will let them do the purchase of the 
 ordinary and unpicturesque eatables," Van Delden 
 said as the woman began to speak in her low 
 deferential voice behind. " She says we are pass- 
 ing all the meat and fish and vegetable places. 
 You don't want to see scraps of meat and fish 
 rolled up in a banana -leaf and fastened with a 
 bamboo-pin, do you? They buy such scraps, and 
 quarrel over it frightfully. Every cook, of course, 
 makes oflF the marketing, and bachelors' servants 
 make most of all. But here are the flowers. That 
 is to suit you, is it not?" 
 
In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 " The Javanese seem to me to have a curious 
 and most reprehensible fancy for pulling flowers 
 off by their heads," Elspeth said, pausing before 
 a stall on which there were great piles of pretty 
 pink rose-heads, tuberoses, and a kind of white 
 jessamine, fragrant and exquisite. " I see they 
 wear the rose-leaves in their hair. It is rather a 
 pretty idea, though an extravagant one." 
 
 Side by side with the flowers was the "drug 
 department". A variety of herbs in neat bamboo 
 baskets, alum, cochineal, sulphur, and dried roots 
 lying side by side; the chemist smoking non- 
 chalantly on his mat, as if sales were of no 
 account to him at all, in which he was a contrast 
 to the noisy Arabs with their persistent scarves 
 and silks thrust in the passers' faces. 
 
 " They are great herbalists," Van Delden said. 
 " I have known natives who would tell you every 
 leaf and blade they saw. They can cure snake-bites 
 in the most wonderful way; they can poison you 
 so that the cleverest doctor in Java is baffled." 
 
 "It sounds very dreadful," Elspeth said. "Are 
 you laughing?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. Dick had adminis- 
 tered a ' lecture late last night on the evils of 
 language drawn and quoted from a rough engine- 
 room Scot, and the mistake of frightening the 
 ladies. And he had no wish to frighten Elspeth. 
 
 85 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Far from it. He would fain have her believe 
 Java a little heaven on earth. 
 
 So they passed on to the confectionery — won- 
 derfully-coloured balls of rice rolled in cocoa-nut, 
 rolls and twists of light batter, sponge-cakes, flaky 
 biscuits, brown cakes of palm -sugar. The fish 
 quarter, distinctly odorous, was hurried past; the 
 great basket department, and the millinery and 
 umbrella stands. Elspeth purchased a Javanese 
 umbrella of glowing yellow, with grinning dragons, 
 for a handful of coppers, a little crowd of marketers 
 surrounding her, their high narrow baskets piled 
 up on their backs, with an indescribable array 
 of the usual banana-leaf packages; the inevitable 
 fowl (for that day's ryst-tafel) regarding the 
 pedestrian with mild yet bright eyes from under 
 their arms. As a Javanese hat is more like a 
 shallow dish -cover painted red than any other 
 simUe I can think of, Elspeth paused and snap- 
 shotted a variety, the crowd growing larger at the 
 sight of the little black box and this odd Engerese 
 lady. Even in Java, Van Delden remarked slily, 
 the English have the reputation of eccentricity. 
 
 By this time it had grown amazingly hot. Most 
 of the pallid and languid ladies had slipped softly 
 home. The sun poured like white fire on the 
 little bamboo roofs of the shops, and wilted the 
 rose-leaves and the jessamine, rendering the fish 
 
 86 
 
'I BEGIN TO REALIZE WHAT HEAT CAN BE," SHE SAID, " EVEN 
 WITH MY DELIGHTFUL UMBRELLA" 
 
In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 department fairly insupportable, and bringing out 
 the strange luscious odour of the durian in almost 
 intolerable strength. 
 
 Elspeth paused and looked round her with a 
 long breath at last. She began to feel wilted 
 like the rose-leaves. 
 
 " I begin to realize what heat can be!" she said, 
 " even with my delightful umbrella. I think I 
 will let you take me home now, Mr. Van 
 Delden." 
 
 The crowd of dusky natives made way politely. 
 There was quite a lane for the tall white-robed 
 girl and her attendant cavalier, but Elspeth paused 
 once more at a stall where were quaintly-cut figures 
 of Javanese gods and deities, with long bamboo 
 arms, a larger type of which are used at the 
 native theatre, and made to go through all kinds 
 of antics. 
 
 " I really must have some of those," she said, 
 " to send home to the Zenana Work Party. They 
 will think they are idols, and be immensely in- 
 terested. Please buy me a few." 
 
 She was choosing some of the most wildly 
 hideous, when a handsome carriage, passing the 
 road, stopped short, and the lady leaning back in 
 it beckoned to Van Delden with her fan. 
 
 Elspeth looked up to see one of the sweetest and 
 fairest faces her eyes had ever beheld — a pale, 
 
 87 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 exquisitely-featured face, lit by soft dark eyes, 
 gentle, and yet languidly imperious. 
 
 Van Delden's hat swept almost to the ground, 
 and then he turned to Elspeth. " It is Madame 
 Disselhoflf," he said. " Please let me introduce. 
 Will you come?" 
 
 " She is the lady they all talk of as if she were 
 better than the Queen of Holland," Elspeth was 
 thinking as she followed him to the carriage, in 
 which sat also a little pale boy with his mother's 
 eyes. " The ' administrator's ' wife ! Even Dick 
 talks as if she were made of different flesh and 
 blood from other women. Well, she does look 
 charming. I feel inclined to do homage too." 
 
 Madame acknowledged the introduction by hold- 
 ing out her hand with a smile, speaking in perfect 
 English. 
 
 " I have been meaning to come and call on you 
 and Mr. Beresford's friends; but my little boy has 
 been ill. We hope to see you soon. Do you find 
 the market interesting?" 
 
 She smiled a little at that — rather a tired smile. 
 It was six years since she had left the quiet and 
 stately Hague for this up-country home in the 
 Dutch Indies. Once she had thought the market 
 interesting too; now it was commonplace and 
 very hot. But the English girl's eager and vivid 
 look attracted her vaguely, and it was good to 
 
 88 
 
In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 see the reds and whites of a complexion fresh from 
 Europe. Also, as there were not many of her own 
 caste near, the coming of the visitors promised a 
 break in her monotonous Ufe. 
 
 " May I drive you home?" she asked then. 
 " Leon is longing to be back to some new toys 
 and to his pony. L^on, will you shake hands 
 with this lady and teU her, in French, that you 
 are pleased to see her in Java?" 
 
 " She is a very pretty lady," the little boy 
 remarked obediently. " She has a skin as white 
 as yours, ma rn^re. She is not fat, like some of 
 the mevrouws of the mill. Is she to be the wile 
 of the Herr Van Delden?" 
 
 At which naive question Van Delden crimsoned 
 to the roots of his short hair, and, handing Elspeth 
 into the carriage, begged Madame to excuse him, 
 as he would walk, now, to the mill, after seeing 
 one of the employes on the way. 
 
 "An enfant terrible] You will pardon him?" 
 the gentle Dutch lady said then, smilingly, as 
 the red-shirted coachman let the horses' heads 
 go, and they rolled on gaily. " I fear you have 
 overheated yourself this morning? You must 
 not do too much at first. I hope that you and 
 the ladies like Java?" 
 
 " We like it very much." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! it is a beautiful island, and there 
 
 89 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 is much to see. And you, of course, will be re- 
 turning to Europe shortly. It is only for a time 
 that you are here." She gave a short sigh. 
 " Sometimes I long for us to go too. My husband 
 has constant fever, and Leon does not thrive very 
 well. But the sugar is not doing well, and there 
 has been trouble in the mill, which is not quite 
 quiet yet. Perhaps the gentlemen have told you? 
 No! ah, they are wise not to talk! I suppose that 
 in all the East there is usually this uncertainty, 
 the feeling that after all we Europeans live on 
 the edge of a volcano. Here it is the hadjis." 
 She dropped her voice then. " The native priests. 
 They are a perpetual source of discontent. But we 
 must not talk of any more trouble. You will tell 
 me your name? I did not catch it." 
 
 " I wish you would call me Elspeth. I am of 
 the great army of the Scots Macs, though we 
 live in England." 
 
 "Ah, yes! I have known a Scots girl at my 
 Dresden school. It is very good of you to let me 
 say Elspeth. It is very pretty. If I — " 
 
 She paused then, calling out suddenly to the 
 coachman in Malay: "Take care!" 
 
 They had turned down a deserted side -road, 
 shaded by clumps of bamboos, tattered banana- 
 trees, and ragged cocoa - nut palms, and dotted 
 here and there by groups of native huts. Through 
 
 90 
 
In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 the bamboos Elspeth could see rice fields beyond, 
 and the long sinuous line of the muddy river; 
 at a distance towered the majestic height of the 
 great volcano, the Slamat, from the curious cone of 
 which a delicate thread of smoke was now rising. 
 
 A little child with a narrow strip of white round 
 his middle had paused as if bewildered before the 
 carriage, and, but for the lady's imperative call, 
 might have been run over. Just at that moment, 
 however, a tall native appeared from the house 
 and snatched the child away. The handsomest 
 native Elspeth had seen, and she looked after 
 him curiously. 
 
 Madame put up her hand then, and the carriage 
 stopped. She said "Eedjo!" in a softly imperious 
 voice, and the man turned round, the child on 
 his arm. A beautiful child, with long hair, 
 strangely soft and curling, and large appealing 
 eyes. The father looked back, Elspeth thought, 
 with extreme unwillingness. He did not squat 
 on the ground, as she expected, when addressed. 
 He only stood by the gate, his sinewy dark hands 
 clasping the child. Something was asked then, 
 and replied to, and the carriage rolled on. 
 
 " I was asking how his child was," Madame said. 
 " He nearly died of fever this year, and this man 
 came to me for quinine. He is wrapped up in 
 the child." 
 
 91 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " He is a very curious-looking native," Elspeth 
 said. " I never saw so handsome a one, and yet 
 there is something odd about him. And why did 
 he not squat down as the others do?" 
 
 " They do not all." There was a touch of re- 
 straint in Madame's voice. " Some are not so 
 careful. My husband insists on it at the mill. 
 I know it is not your English way." 
 
 They talked of other things then, and Elspeth 
 forgot the incident. 
 
 After bidding farewell to her kind guide she 
 arrived to find the bungalow party in the Veranda, 
 the old ladies ready to hear a very graphic descrip- 
 tion of the market. Miss Horatio thought the card- 
 board deities might interest the work party. Miss 
 Lavender remarked that to wear rose leaves was a 
 sweet fashion, only very cruel to the roses. Elspeth 
 told them about Madame's promise to call. Doing 
 her hair later, after a refreshing bath, she suddenly 
 remembered the figure of the tall native and the 
 child, and paused, ruminating, brush in hand. 
 
 " I am sure I have seen him before," she said to 
 herself. " Yes, it was he who was listening to the 
 music last night by the cocoa-nut tree. Can he be 
 Pa-Eeis? But no! For Pa-Reis they talk of as 
 someone to dread, and Madame spoke to this man, 
 somehow, as if she pitied him. I wonder why?" 
 
 Miss Lavender had engaged a native maid, and 
 
 92 
 
In the Sidjokarta Market 
 
 was now occupied in instructing her, half in 
 English and half in halting Malay, how to do her 
 room, her weak little voice coming through Els- 
 peth's half-open door with slightly querulous 
 accent. 
 
 " And you must put it straight, straight, and 
 sweep away that dust — bekin prissih. See ! Oh, you 
 poor heathen creature, I wish you could under- 
 stand! And I do wish I had brought poor Sarah 
 Timms." 
 
 Elspeth ran out to help just as Miss Horatio 
 crossed the veranda, some letters in her hand, a 
 slight frown on her face. 
 
 Three weeks that day since they came, and never 
 a word of any clue. Delicately, she must sound 
 Dick that night. Java was very interesting, but 
 they had come there for a purpose. 
 
 93 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 "Dick! Will you come and speak to me for a 
 moment?" 
 
 Beresford turned back with a stifled sigh. 
 
 He had been on his way to the piano, where 
 Van Delden and Elspeth were laughing and talking, 
 the latter singing gay snatches of song, and it was 
 that after-dinner hour which had grown so danger- 
 ously sweet to both young men. Somehow, how- 
 ever, it seemed to Dick that his friend absorbed 
 the lion's share of the sweetness. 
 
 He showed nothing, however, of any disappoint- 
 ment, as he sat down by the old lady's side, the 
 two seats being placed rather in the shadow, 
 whence he could watch the little halo of light cast 
 by the big shaded lamp near the piano. He turned 
 to her attentively now, with his usual deliberate 
 voice. 
 
 " What can I do for you, Miss Horatio?" 
 
 " It was a few questions, Dick, merely a few 
 confidential questions." 
 
 91 
 
' HIS ATTENTION WAVERED A LITTLE AS THE BUBBLING LAUGH 
 RIPPLED OUT ONCE MORE" 
 
After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 Somehow the. hesitation was so unlike Miss 
 Bouverie that Dick looked at her in surprise. It 
 might almost have been Miss Lavender who spoke, 
 so deprecating was the voice, and she paused again 
 before resuming, glancing over at her sister, who 
 was reading The Rock in the background. 
 
 " I — I wanted to ask if you think you know all 
 the English in Java?" 
 
 " No, indeed ! that would be rather a large order," 
 the young man said. " Why, there are numbers 
 both in Soerabaya and Batavia!" 
 
 Miss Bouverie hesitated, flushing a good deal. 
 
 " Could you — could you find out about them?" 
 she said then, as if gathering her courage. " Could 
 you possibly get me their names?" 
 
 "Now, what on earth is she driving at?" Dick 
 cogitated mentally, his attention wavering a little 
 as the bubbling laugh, the "swindling laugh", 
 rippled out once more (Van Delden was evidently 
 either apologizing or explaining! What could he 
 have said?) and then he laid hold on his attention 
 firmly. 
 
 " I believe I could, Miss Horatio. I suppose the 
 government ofl&ce in Batavia could give me a list if 
 I wrote. Would you like that?" 
 
 He wondered wildly if she meditated a crusade, 
 a mission of some kind! What had his country- 
 men been about? 
 
 95 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " It — it wouldn't draw attention to — anyone, 
 would it?" the old lady queried then, with a kind 
 of gasp. "Dick, to tell you the truth I — I am 
 looking for someone! You won't repeat that, please. 
 Not to anyone! I know I can trust you. You 
 were a very naughty little boy, but Mr. Tubbs 
 always said you did not know how to break your 
 word, or to tell a lie!" 
 
 "Like George Washington!" and Dick laughed, 
 rather puzzled. " I'm sure it's very good of you 
 to say so, and of 'Oom Tobbs' too. Looking for 
 someone! Does the ' someone ' know you are here?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! He — they would never dream of it, 
 — and — and the worst is, they — would not wish — 
 would perhaps be afraid — to be found! Mr. Van 
 Delden said that a — criminal could hide very well 
 in Java. Was that all nonsense?" 
 
 " Van Delden talks a lot of nonsense," Dick said 
 grimly, with rather a vicious glance at the Dutch- 
 man's broad figure bending over the piano. " A 
 paternal government looks pretty sharp after people 
 here. You must get all sorts of documents before 
 you are allowed to settle in Her Dutch Majesty's 
 dominions. They don't like riff-raflf any more than 
 we do, or even the glorious United States." 
 
 Miss Horatio considered this, her eyebrows meet- 
 ing. She had only heard by the wildest chance 
 that Harry had come to Java. When he fled, after 
 
 96 
 
After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 the tragedy, he doubtless feared pursuit, and that 
 his stepfather would tell the truth. Would he 
 give his own name? Not likely. 
 
 " I suppose there are no English here?" she 
 demanded then. " Or anywhere near here?" 
 
 " Not that I know of. I only came, you know, 
 through a Dutch friend. Well, I'll do what I can 
 about getting you a list, Miss Horatio." 
 
 " And you will not tell anyone?" 
 
 "Not a soul!" 
 
 After which poor Dick was allowed to go to the 
 piano. 
 
 In spite of the attraction there, however, he was 
 a trifle absent-minded, and Elspeth could not help 
 wondering what Miss Horatio had been saying to 
 him. 
 
 He was puzzling as to what she could possibly 
 mean, also how it came to pass that an old lady 
 from a dull English village should be enquiring 
 after "a criminal"! (she had almost hinted that 
 "he" was a criminal) in the wilds of Java! 
 
 " But then, their being here, altogether, is so 
 delightfully improbable," Dick told himself per- 
 plexedly, " and life is, after all, full of such odd 
 things, such outrageous kinds of things!" 
 
 " Dick, my friend, our good lady has been read- 
 ing you a lecture, is it not?" Van Delden said then. 
 " Of what iniquity do you confess?" 
 
 (B30) 97 G 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " Quite the reverse," Beresford said. " She was 
 telling me that ' Oom Tobbs ' and she did not 
 think that I could tell a lie! Ah, Van Delden, 
 what good uncle or aunt could say the same 
 thing of you?" 
 
 " I have no aunts, praise be to D.V.," and Van 
 Delden knocked off the ash from his cigar on a 
 pillar, beaming placidly. "And as to the art of 
 lying, one could not live in Java long and not find 
 it catching. After a year's knowledge of the native 
 character — " 
 
 "But is it necessary to descend to their level?" 
 Elspeth demanded. "You don't find their ways 
 so infectious that you go to your chief and ask 
 leave to bury your great - grandmother for the 
 fiftieth time, do you? You add new terrors to 
 life here! This is worse than the scorpions and 
 the snakes you are always warning me against. 
 And I begin to believe there are neither snakes 
 nor tigers," she was playing softly, both men 
 watching the busy white fingers; "I hope they 
 are not all going to melt away like the poison 
 valley and the upas-tree! One does not want 
 Java robbed of all the terrible and the mysterious. 
 We don't want to civilize all the world into one 
 horrible flat level of sameness, do we?" 
 
 " There is enough left of the terrible and the 
 mysterious, I fancy," Dick said. " Creutzberg has 
 
After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 got into a row again, Van Delden; did you hear? 
 About the waringi-tree near his bungalow. The 
 holy tree, you know." 
 
 "What did he do?" The girl turned round 
 eagerly. " Is it a story? Please tell me. I won't 
 scare the old ladies, but do tell me!" 
 
 " No, perhaps better not tell them. Creutzberg 
 is a widower; wife was English and died last year, 
 and he has one little girl. A very good fellow, but 
 obstinate and rather dogmatic; a trifle hard, too, on 
 the natives, and he is not loved. This holy tree 
 grew near his garden gate, and he said the ants 
 plagued him coming through the garden and into 
 the house from it. He ordered it to be cut down, 
 and the men would not do it. That riled him and 
 made him more determined than ever. Then he 
 sent for coolies from Banjoemas, and had it done 
 at night, unknown to the hadjis and the men 
 here. I told him I thought it was an awfully 
 foolish thing to do. And since that, he's been 
 bothered!" 
 
 "Bothered! How?" 
 
 " With stones." 
 
 "With stones?" 
 
 "Yes. I know it sounds mad, but it's true. 
 I saw them. Showers of stones, descending from 
 apparently nowhere, in the veranda! He is afraid 
 for the little girl. And no one will cart away the 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 tree. They won't lay a finger on it. The hadjis 
 forbid them." 
 
 " But who flings the stones?" 
 
 "That's what he'd like to know! He's on a 
 coffee estate some miles from here. There's a 
 story, too, about a black hand the child says she 
 sees on the veranda. Oh, yes, there are queer 
 enough things in Java up-country, even without 
 the tigers!" 
 
 Elspeth had listened, at first with merry atten- 
 tion, but her face altered as she heard the odd ring 
 in Dick's English voice. There was something 
 in his face she did not understand. He did not 
 believe in a supernatural agency surely? Van 
 Delden, too, had listened without a smile. "A 
 black hand!" she repeated. "That the child sees? 
 Then someone must be trying to frighten her, that 
 is all. Why do they not take her away? Madame 
 is so good; she would take her." 
 
 " I suggested that to Creutzberg but he wouldn't 
 hear of it. The child is the apple of his eye; and 
 besides, Madame is away. Creutzberg says he is 
 watching for them. He hangs round "with a gun, 
 and they know it. Altogether I don't like the 
 trend things are taking at all, and I made up my 
 mind to ask the baas if I might go up — " 
 
 He broke off then; a coolie, stooping low and 
 salaaming, had brought a note, which he read at 
 
 100 
 
After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 once, getting up, after a colloquy with the messen- 
 ger, with the brief intelligence that " the baas 
 wanted him". 
 
 "Mr. Beresford seems to believe these things," 
 Elspeth said then to Val Delden. " How well he 
 talks Javanese! What good could he do even if 
 he went up?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know, he might do something. 
 He's awfully popular with the natives. You see 
 he studied medicine, as perhaps you know, in 
 Edinburgh for a little, and he will doctor them in 
 a mild way, if it isn't worth sending for the doctor, 
 or if there is no time. He is awfully good at it. 
 They sometimes call him ' Tuan Doktor'. He's 
 got a good way with the men, I know not why or 
 how. And I've seen him to tackle (it is the 
 word, is it not?) even a hadji in the mill, and 
 get him to do something when the others could 
 not. Dick is what you will call the popular 
 chap, isn't it?" 
 
 " I should have thought him too lazy," Elspeth 
 said. "He always seems to me not to bother 
 about things." 
 
 She was thinking irrelevantly of the diflference 
 between Beresford and her own lover. Walter's 
 keen dark face, and anxious, rather hawk-like look, 
 his suave manner, with its hint of self-absorption 
 and detachment from what one said, and Dick's 
 
 101 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 lazy voice and slow deliberate movements. "It 
 always strikes me," she said dreamily, " that Mr. 
 Dick doesn't think much in life worth exertion or 
 caring for!" 
 
 " But the manner is English, is it not? You 
 stroll round the world (I would mean the English- 
 man) with a cigar, as if to view the scenery, and 
 hey presto! up goes the Union Jack." 
 
 The girl laughed, " Perhaps that is the idea on 
 the Continent! Just as a dreadfully loud indi- 
 vidual in check trousers, and an angular female 
 in a sack coat and a sailor hat, are the popular 
 presentment of the Englishman and 'Miss'!" 
 
 " The English Miss, no ! She is a being all 
 divine! That is for her a caricature of the most 
 abominable!" 
 
 Elspeth laughed at that, as she laughed at so 
 much the kindly Dutchman said. 
 
 "You and Dick are fast friends, are you not?" 
 she said, " and of course you know him so much 
 better than I. And do you not think him lazy?" 
 
 "Lazy? But no! He works harder than any 
 other employ^ in the mill. Monsieur has said it. 
 And for the rest — he will plant his Union Jack 
 where he so wishes, and as he strolls!" 
 
 " Not in Java," Elspeth said, pretending to take 
 him literally; "we gave it up, bartered it for a 
 good bargain! And you think he means to go to 
 
 102 
 
After-Dinner Confidences 
 
 tMs place, and try to find out who is throwing the 
 stones?" 
 
 " Yes. And perhaps get Creutzberg to let the 
 chUd go to the lodgie. But I tell Dick some- 
 times," he shrugged his shoulders, " it does not do 
 to burn one's fingers in the fire. And there might 
 be a bad business if Creutzberg was foolish enough 
 to use his gun. He has not been himself since the 
 so sad death of his wife. I shall advise our friend 
 to stay at home, I think, in this case." 
 
 Elspeth got up then and closed the piano. She 
 walked away rather soberly. " I don't believe he 
 will take your advice," she said. 
 
 103 
 
CHAPTER X 
 A Lonely Child 
 
 A long stream of natives was just leaving the river, 
 and the light was fading slowly in the west. It 
 was almost dark under the great trees, where the 
 heavy scent of the night flowers was beginning 
 to breathe faintly and fragrantly in the cooler air. 
 The scent of orange blossom was strong in a 
 certain road about three miles from the mill, where 
 was a single European house, standing by itself — 
 rather a desolate - looking bungalow, with three 
 picturesque cocoa-nut palms standing, sentinel-like, 
 on each side. In front the garden was empty and 
 desolate, the paint on the rose-pots was peeling off, 
 the roses themselves were straggling and thin, 
 and looked uncared-for, the maiden-hair fern sadly 
 wanted water. It might have struck a keen 
 observer that there was the want of a woman's 
 hand about this untended garden; that there was 
 the want of a woman's presence, too, in the bare 
 veranda, where there was no litter of work, or 
 of books or papers, only a battered and rather 
 
 104 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 melanclioly doll lying face downwards on one of 
 the steps. 
 
 Presently a little girl came out slowly from one 
 of the inner rooms, and, lifting the doll half- 
 absently, passed down the steps and out through 
 the garden to the gate. She was a delicate and 
 fragile child, with short, curling, fair hair and large 
 dreamy blue eyes — a very pretty child. There was 
 a curious self-possession about her, a self-reli- 
 ance and sobriety which were unchild-like. There 
 was no spring in her step, no spontaneous gaiety 
 in her voice. She was speaking to herself as she 
 went, in a gentle, murmuring voice. It was a habit 
 Nancy had acquired through much living alone; a 
 habit which was pathetic in all it betrayed. 
 
 " I wonder if Father will be late to-night? I 
 wish he would come. Baboe is asleep, though I 
 am almost glad she is asleep, for I don't wish to 
 sit in the veranda in case I should see the Black 
 Hand. And she always likes the veranda. I 
 wonder why? Why should she like to see all 
 around us?" 
 
 She had reached the gate then, but seemed to be 
 arrested by the sight of the huge warangi-tree, which 
 lay prone on the ground, its long branches reach- 
 ing to her feet, its brown streamers and glossy 
 dark-green leaves already fading and trampled into 
 the dust. Nancy knew the story of the tree very 
 
 105 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 well, and she stood looking at it now with a kind 
 of faint dread and repulsion. 
 
 " I wish Father had not cut it down. Oh, I wish 
 he had not made them cut it down!" 
 
 By and by she threaded her way through the 
 branches and sat down on the trunk, as if to 
 meditate, the doll tucked indifferently under one 
 arm, and her little sharp-pointed chin resting on 
 her hand. Life is always rather a puzzle to some 
 children — to those, at least, who take time to think 
 over things, and who are weighed down. Atlas- 
 like, by the pressure of the great world's mysteries 
 upon their small shoulders. And life here, in 
 Java, was certainly rather a mystery, sometimes, 
 to older heads than little Nancy's. She was think- 
 ing again that she was glad that the haboe (maid) 
 was asleep. The woman haunted her with such 
 painful persistency, and there was always a kind 
 of terror in the dark eyes, which rendered Nancy 
 vaguely uneasy, vaguely uncomfortable. She would 
 examine every scrap of food which was brought 
 from the kitchen; she would beseech the child, 
 tearfully, not to eat anything that was given to 
 her. Whenever Nancy awakened, either from her 
 afternoon siesta or at night, it seemed to her that 
 the baboe was sitting there on the mat, with her 
 terrified eyes fixed upon the little white bed. 
 
 " She is always frightened," Nancy said to her- 
 
 106 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 self. " I wonder why she is always frightened? 
 We did not use to be frightened — when Mother 
 was here." 
 
 An atmosphere of fear, even hidden fear, is not 
 pleasant. Her mother had never been frightened. 
 She had sat with Nancy on her knee in the great 
 rocker, in the evening, waving the big fan to and 
 fro, and telling sweet, quaint stories of the fairies 
 who lived far away in England, where there were 
 green fields and waving corn, and hedges full of 
 pink roses; where there were wUd berries to be 
 gathered, and one could go out in the sunshine 
 without any fear of headache or sunstroke; where 
 the meadows were carpeted with sweet flowers 
 called buttercups and daisies. Buttercups and 
 daisies! How her mother's voice had lingered 
 over and rested fondly on the very words! 
 Nancy had repeated them as if they were poetry. 
 One day. Mother said, they would gather them 
 together. 
 
 But now her mother was gone; the angels in 
 heaven had need of her, her father said. Nancy had 
 listened patiently, and had apparently acquiesced, 
 though the great tears had rolled slowly down her 
 face, and there had been a hidden puzzle and 
 questioning in her little heart as to whether the 
 angels possibly could have needed her mother more 
 than she did! Surely there were other mothers in 
 
 107 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 so large a place as heaven. There were none here 
 for her. 
 
 She was seated now, with her face turned to- 
 wards the direction in which she expected her 
 father, when a group of natives, carrying torches, 
 came along the road and stopped at Mr. Creutzberg's 
 gate. They did not at first perceive the little girl, 
 but at last one of them caught sight of the edge of 
 her short white frock, and he turned round and 
 began to gesticulate angrily when he saw who it 
 was. He seemed to be telling the story of the 
 cutting down of the tree, and to be dilating upon 
 it, and presently their voices grew louder and 
 louder, and one of them advanced towards Nancy, 
 speaking passionately to her in Javanese, and 
 apparently ordering the child to come oflF her seat. 
 Nancy had risen to her feet, half-frightened, when 
 there was a rush from the house, and the baboe 
 came speeding towards them, separating the group 
 as if in frantic terror. She faced them then, in- 
 dignantly and furiously, and then pushed the little 
 girl gently through the gate, bidding her go in. 
 Nancy left her, with a faint shrug, and went back 
 to the veranda, and gradually the loud voices 
 died away, and the baboe returned. She began to 
 stroke her charge's hands, pleading with her and 
 reproaching her softly in Malay. The little 
 mistress must not go out by herself. How often 
 
 108 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 had she told her? How often had she entreated 
 her? There were bad men in these days, bad, 
 wicked men; there were all sorts of dreadful 
 dangers hovering in the air. The Black Hand 
 was the sign; the little mistress had seen it, and 
 she knew. Nancy must never, never go out 
 alone. 
 
 " Mother used to say that I was quite safe every- 
 where," the child said gently and yet almost im- 
 periously then; there was always a certain touch 
 of dignity in her manner with the baboe. The 
 pride of race is always strong in Eastern children. 
 " And I am not frightened like you, Baboe. I am 
 a white child, and you are a native. The Black 
 Hand will not harm me. My father will not 
 permit it, nor will Mr. Dick. Tuan Dick Beresford 
 will not let anyone harm me." 
 
 " But the tuans are not here," the woman said 
 then, with a kind of shiver. " And now what will 
 the little mistress eat? I will go and fetch it from 
 the kitchen; I will make it myself. What shall 
 I make? Custard, or pancakes? Or fruit and 
 bread?" 
 
 "Anything you like; it doesn't matter," Nancy 
 said; supper, or indeed any meal, being generally 
 a matter of indiflference to her. 
 
 "You will not come with Baboe? I will make 
 it very quickly." 
 
 109 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 The question was an entreaty, a baboe never 
 dares to command her charge; but Nancy shook 
 her head resolutely. No, the hot kitchen and the 
 strange, sulky cook were even worse than the 
 lonely front veranda, so that the baboe went off 
 by herself, and presently was in the kitchen, where 
 she brought milk from an outhouse, and began to 
 make a pudding over one of the little charcoal 
 fires on the kitchen floor, waving a fan before it, 
 dumbly, while the cook, with an angry glance in 
 her direction, and much veUed sarcasm, went on 
 chopping onions at the table. "Had the baboe 
 not better eat up the pudding herself, when once 
 she had made it?" she enquired. "Perhaps poison 
 might fly into it as she carried it in to the child! 
 The baboe was a fool in these days over the child 
 and the child's food. She was a mad woman, that 
 was it." 
 
 It grew dark in the veranda, where Nancy sat 
 on the top step, gazing up into the sky. Presently 
 she could see the Cross glittering above her; that 
 wonderful constellation of which her mother had 
 been so fond, and which they had always looked at 
 together. Somehow it was a very dear and familiar 
 friend of Nancy's. She had always a feeling of 
 gratitude towards it. So many things changed, 
 and went away; people were always going away 
 from the mill, back to Europe — even her mother 
 
 110 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 had gone away! There was a faint tinge of bit- 
 terness, almost of wondering resentment, in the 
 thought that her mother could go away ! But the 
 Cross had remained in the sky, and it was always 
 there, bright, protecting. Still, her father did not 
 come. Everything grew ghostlike, and she looked 
 round, as if a little frightened, about the veranda. 
 She wished the baboe would come. But the baboe 
 was fighting with the cook about some eggs which 
 she declared were not fresh, and which she would 
 not give her charge. Nancy remembered the men's 
 angry faces, and their fierce gestures. They had 
 dared to speak and act so to a white child! And 
 then she slowly rose from the steps and went back 
 to her seat, clasping the doll rather closer, as if 
 there were something human and familiar in the 
 battered face and limp kid arms. She looked 
 around then on the wall, on which hung a few 
 Japanese china flower- pots, from which one or 
 two green creeping plants depended, badly requir- 
 ing water. One by one the things her mother had 
 brought from England had disappeared. The 
 photographs were discoloured and faded, the frames 
 were chipped and broken, the kakimonas were 
 dirty and torn. When her father came in at nights 
 it was dark, and he did not notice. Everything 
 had looked different since his wife went away. 
 That was all he knew. 
 
 Ill 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 It seemed to Nancy, then, that she heard stealthy 
 footfalls, and a kind of hissing whisper around her, 
 then slowly, as she looked on the white wall, there 
 dawned a kind of phosphorescent light, and then, 
 first like an almost impalpable shadow, but growing 
 blacker and darker, there grew upon the wall the 
 presentment of a large black hand. She stared as 
 if fascinated; then, with a little choking cry, leapt 
 to her feet and fled into the back gallery, scream- 
 ing in piteous terror. She was caught in the 
 baboe's arms almost before the first sound left her 
 lips. The dish of pudding fell between them, in 
 the woman's frantic haste, then the baboe carried 
 her into the bed -room to rock her, sobbing, in her 
 slender brown arms. 
 
 Nancy had fallen asleep when Mr. Creutzberg 
 returned that night. When he looked into the 
 bed-room he could see the child's pallid little face 
 on her lace-trimmed pillows — her mother's last 
 work — and the baboe watching beside her, with 
 more than usual terror in her eyes. She rose when 
 she saw her master, and presently was pouring a 
 wild and incoherent story into his ear. He gathered 
 that all kinds of dangers were threatening his child, 
 that the Black Hand had been seen again ! Oh, if 
 the Tuan would only let Baboe take the child to 
 England, or to the country of the Dutch, his country, 
 
 112 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 where she would be safe! Away, away anywhere! 
 Till the dreadful ill-luck left them. 
 
 " Go back to the room, watch your little mis- 
 tress, and don't talk nonsense!" Creutzberg said 
 imperiously, and then he went out to the veranda 
 with a frown of worry and of impatience on his 
 forehead. He thought all this story was the 
 woman's imagining, that she had imbued the little 
 girl with her ridiculous ideas. Nancy had somehow 
 found a difficulty in talking of her nervous fears 
 to her father, and though she was the very apple 
 of his eye, he was not perhaps very good at reading 
 a child's heart. He could not part from her, he 
 could not, that was all he knew ! And as to this 
 wretched affair, it would blow over. He acknow- 
 ledged now that he had perhaps been a little 
 obstinate in running counter to the prejudices of 
 these ignorant fellows. He loathed the tree as it 
 lay there, blocking up the path. But not a Ja- 
 vanese in the vicinity would lay a finger on it to 
 remove it, and he dared not now hire more natives 
 from a distance. As long as the tree lay there, 
 Baboe had said in one of her ravings, danger, and 
 deadly danger, would shadow all the house. That, 
 of course, was folly. 
 
 He was sipping his pahit, and thinking gloomily 
 of these things, when he saw lights at the gate, 
 and a carriage stopped some yards before the tree. 
 
 (B30) 113 H 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 He could hear a woman's voice then, and presently 
 a lady and gentleman came through the gate, 
 Dutch friends from a little distance. His face 
 brightened, and he ran out to meet them at once, 
 pulling forward the rocker for Mevrouw, and cast- 
 ing rather an apologetic glance over the dingy 
 bareness of the veranda. Man -like, he did not 
 quite know what was wrong; but he knew that 
 something was wrong here, as with all life, since 
 his wife's death. Then he called for the boy, for 
 more pahit, for wine, and for "syrups", and pre- 
 sently they were all sitting and rocking in the 
 little circle of light from the lamp. He was thank- 
 ful to see white faces. 
 
 " It was so good of you to come, Mevrouw," 
 her host said to the lady, " especially as you must 
 be very busy packing. You leave, do you not, on 
 the fifteenth?" 
 
 " Yes, that is indeed why I have come. Mynheer," 
 Mevrouw said, looking at him a little anxiously. 
 " My baboe is a friend of Nancy's maid, and she 
 has come to me with all sorts of stories. I feared 
 that the child was ill, and, indeed, at the present 
 moment, with the natives so unpleasant " — she was 
 aware that she was walking on thin ice, and that 
 most people blamed Creutzberg for his hasty action, 
 and she steered her way with some slight difficulty — 
 " I had thought, perhaps, that it might be possible 
 
 114 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 that you would wish to send the child to Holland, 
 to your mother. I go to the Hague myself, at 
 once, and I know Mevrouw very well! It would 
 be a great pleasure to her, a great joy to see the 
 little Nancy, if you think of letting her go." 
 
 " Thank you, Mevrouw, I am sure that you mean 
 kindly," Creutzberg said stiffly, " but I have not 
 the slightest intention of sending Nancy to the 
 Hague. I do not think of it at all." 
 
 There was a chilling pause. Mevrouw stirred 
 her syrup and water rather nervously, with an 
 appealing glance at her husband. 
 
 " My wife has heard that the little girl was 
 ill and nervous," the husband said. He was a 
 big man, with rather a blustering manner, but the 
 kindest and softest heart in the world. " And 
 the life is lonely for her in this house. A child 
 needs a — " 
 
 Then he too broke off, with a hasty glance at 
 the white, set face of the man opposite. They 
 could not mention the great loss, the great aching 
 emptiness which lay behind everything, and yet 
 it seemed to them so piteous to think of the little 
 girl left there alone when the very mention of 
 her father's name was enough to infuriate any 
 native for miles around. 
 
 " I have no intention of sending Nancy to 
 Holland," was all Creutzberg repeated doggedly. 
 
 115 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 He was all the more resolute, all the more deter- 
 mined, from the fact that the still small voice of 
 conscience pleaded insistently. Wise? Yes, per- 
 haps it would be wise. But he only knew that 
 he could not, no, he could not! He could not 
 blot from his life the last ray of sunshine, destroy 
 the last link with the past. 
 
 The couple went away after a little while, 
 Creutzberg taking the lady on his arm to the gate, 
 and seeing her into the carriage with most punc- 
 tilious politeness. But he did not again refer to 
 the subject, and after the roll of carriage wheels 
 had died away, he went back to his pahit, and 
 then to his dinner by and by, where everything 
 was half- cold and greasy, and where he was 
 waited on by a sulky native in a dirty and 
 creased sarong. 
 
 It was all part, however, of the wretchedness of 
 these days, the gloom and the wretchedness. 
 Sorrow had not brought this poor man any com- 
 pensation or comfort, any ray of hope. There 
 were only lacerating memories, which made him 
 passionate and obstinate; which set his nerves 
 on edge. The ache, and the sting, and the long- 
 ing. And he was bearing it all, God help him! 
 like a stoic; and stoicism may be brave, but it 
 is torture. 
 
 He went in again to Nancy's bed-room, before he 
 
 116 
 
A Lonely Child 
 
 retired to his own, and stood for a moment look- 
 ing down at tlie little white bed, with its spotless 
 mosquito - curtains. The baboe's brown face, a 
 slight feverish tinge on her cheek, lay on the mats 
 on the floor beside it. He would not think, for 
 a moment, of a time when that little bed would 
 be empty; of a time when the little white figure 
 would not be watching for him on the steps. No, 
 the baboe was perfectly devoted, and all the 
 dangers she talked of were only the wild figments 
 of her own imagination, only the grotesque in- 
 ventions of Javanese superstition. 
 
 117 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The White Beans 
 
 Nancy did not say anything next morning about 
 the Black Hand. She had an instinctive conscious- 
 ness that the subject grieved her father, and she 
 had already learned that there were some things 
 in her life which her father did not understand. 
 Mother had understood everything. So, little 
 Nancy said nothing, and her father left her playing, 
 apparently content and happy, in the veranda, 
 leaving strict injunctions with the baboe that she 
 was not to let the chUd out of her sight. 
 
 The baboe shook her head at that, and then 
 nodded it fiercely. There was a strange, burning 
 gaze in her eyes, as she stood looking after her 
 master when he went. She would have liked to 
 say a good deal, only she dared not; the Tuan 
 was not one to approach with pleadings or with 
 confidences. He would have dismissed all she 
 had to say after the first sentence. She was 
 quite aware of that. He was without fear for 
 himself, or for the child; the baboe knew that he 
 
 118 
 
The White Beans 
 
 would have said it was impossible tliat any danger 
 could threaten either. 
 
 For herself, all day she was restless and uneasy. 
 When Nancy slept in the afternoon, she sat chew- 
 ing her sirih by the side of the little white bed, 
 and thinking deeply. When she had been in the 
 kitchen getting the child's dinner, the servants 
 had talked openly before her, the theme always 
 the same, the wickedness and sacrilege of the 
 Tuan in daring to cut down the holy tree, and 
 the evils quite certain to follow the dreadful act. 
 But it was not so much what she had directly 
 heard, as what she suspected, that troubled the 
 baboe. She had seen a little group whispering 
 in one corner of the garden, and they had stopped 
 talking when she approached, and had looked at 
 her maliciously and scornfully. She had started 
 at the sight of one man, and a cold fear, like a 
 sudden knife - thrust, had penetrated her heart. 
 This was a man for whom she had an instinctive 
 terror. He had been dismissed by the Tuan for 
 theft, and had always, she knew, vowed vengeance. 
 Hitherto, however, he had not dared return. 
 Now, in the troubled state of affairs, when the 
 Europeans were obliged to pass over a good many 
 things, he had dared to come back — had coolly 
 walked about, his head in the air. Even the 
 wedonna (chief native magistrate) did not proceed 
 
 119 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 against him. And now he was talking with a 
 fierce malignant scowl, as the baboe approached, 
 and she heard the words "to-night', and "veranda 
 window" as they turned away. What mischief 
 were they plotting? 
 
 As she sat now, she was going over the thing 
 in her mind. They were coming to do something 
 that night; something, but what? Dared she 
 tell the Tuan? She was quite sure that he would 
 not listen. He always slept at present, she knew, 
 with a revolver under his pillow. But the baboe 
 had an instinctive feeling that revolvers did not 
 meet every difficulty, and that there were, in- 
 deed, some dangers against which they were 
 powerless. Force would not be of use here. It 
 was cunning against cunning, and there was no 
 cunning about the Tuan. 
 
 " I wUl not sleep, I will watch," she said to 
 herself, as a little cooler air began to creep through 
 the closed window-shutters. " There is no use in 
 speaking to the Tuan. I will not sleep. I will 
 watch. Samen did not know that I heard." 
 
 In a way she was devoted to her master too. 
 He was associated in her mind with the chUd, 
 and he had been a kind master. And then there 
 was her promise to the beloved mistress, who had 
 put the little baby in her arms when she first came. 
 
 "You will love her and watch over her always, 
 
 120 
 
The White Beans 
 
 Baboe," tlie mistress had said, " and you will take 
 care of her always!" 
 
 The baboe had been in the room when the mis- 
 tress died, and, though no words passed between 
 them, the dying eyes had looked at her fixedly and 
 then returned, with a faint smile, back to the little 
 white bed drawn close. Baboe knew what the 
 look meant very well, and the unspoken promise 
 with which she had knelt down with her arms over 
 the cot was as binding as any chain of steel or 
 iron. They had looked into each other's eyes — 
 the white woman and she. The one asked, the 
 other promised; both understood. 
 
 The evening passed as usual. The baboe kept 
 Nancy playing with her doll's house in the back 
 gallery, and there was no Black Hand to be seen. 
 But she knew that natives came and went through 
 the garden, she could hear the soft muffled footfall 
 now and then, the rustle of dry bamboo leaves, or 
 feel a faint whiff of the native tobacco. When the 
 Tuan came in, he ate his dinner in morose silence, 
 and afterwards Nancy sat on his knee and he read 
 to her for a little, the little bare arms round his 
 neck. Later, he had smoked a cigarette in the 
 road, where the huge tree still blocked up the way 
 by the gate, and then he went to bed. 
 
 It was an intensely dark night. Nancy had 
 shaken her head, saying she could not see Mother's 
 
 121 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Cross in the sky. That had seemed like an evil 
 omen to the baboe as well as to the child. 
 
 Nancy could not sleep for a little, and Baboe 
 told her stories, strange wonderful Javanese 
 legends of mythological princes and princesses, 
 gods and deities, some of them sad and even 
 beautiful, and at last, under the soft, slow murmur 
 of the loving voice, the little girl fell asleep. The 
 baboe watched and waited. The Tuan had gone 
 to his room, which opened immediately opposite to 
 that in which she and the child were, and she 
 could hear his regular breathing. Gradually the 
 monotony of the silence took possession of her, 
 and she began to nod. How long she slept she 
 did not know. She wakened, hearing a soft 
 stealthy sound outside on the veranda. She was 
 alert at once, and sat up, leaning forward on her 
 mat, and scarcely daring even to lift her hand to 
 brush away a mosquito. Again it came, and then 
 she heard something touch the wooden shutter of 
 the veranda window — a little creak as of the 
 shutter pushed open. She listened, and then crept 
 on her hands and knees to the door. There was 
 a crack through which she could plainly see by the 
 faint light of her own lamp, which was turned low, 
 the chairs and tables of the inner gallery and the 
 door opposite. The door was divided in two, and 
 was a thin structure covered with Japanese em- 
 
 122 
 
The White Beans 
 
 broidery. After waiting a little she perceived a 
 stealthy figure creep across the gallery, something, 
 in a saucer held out in one dark hand. The baboe 
 knew a great deal about Javanese herbs and plants; 
 her husband had sold them in the market, and had 
 explained to her many of their various properties. 
 So that when a faint, pungent smell reached her 
 nostrils she sank back, changing colour at once. 
 She knew what was in the saucer, and what the 
 little wreath of smoke meant which was being 
 slowly and gradually emitted from it. Her 
 memory, stung by fear into quick recollection, 
 brought a bygone scene back to her. So did the 
 odour. Her husband was showing her a packet of 
 a curious kind of white bean — he held one over 
 the lamp experimentally. 
 
 " If these are first baked and then set alight 
 they will smoulder slowly, very slowly, and it is 
 not well to be near when the smoke comes to the 
 nostrils. For, first of all, there will be sleep, only 
 deep, deep sleep, and then — " 
 
 What then? 
 
 Had she not asked the question? Had he not 
 answered with the usual pregnant Javanese shrug, 
 which might mean so much or so little? 
 
 The baboe had lived up-country all her life, and 
 strange things happen up-country, where the Euro- 
 pean doctors are few, and perhaps not very clever, 
 
 123 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and where Javanese poisons are as yet an unknown 
 book to them. 
 
 There had been a story she remembered of a 
 young Dutch wife brought to her husband's home, 
 away far up in the mountains amongst the coflfee 
 plantations. The cook had been a very beautiful 
 woman, and the young master had smiled upon 
 her, and flattered her, and his words had gone to 
 her head. She had hoped, perhaps, more than she 
 had dared to put into words. And then he had 
 gone back to Holland, and had brought out the 
 white girl, his wife. One morning, very shortly 
 after her arrival, Baboe being in the house as 
 washerwoman, the young bride had been found 
 dead in bed, and there had been nothing — nothing 
 at all — to account for it. The doctor had come, and 
 the wedonna had been summoned, and the con- 
 troUeur and the assistant -resident, and there had 
 been much talk, oh, very much talk! Only the 
 poor husband had been silent, kneeling with rigid 
 arms held out over the white, serene face. But 
 nothing had happened, and nothing had been 
 found out. Only one day, when cleaning out the 
 kitchen after the cook's departure, Baboe had come 
 across a little packet rolled in banana-leaf inside 
 the oven — a little packet of odd white beans, — and 
 she had remembered her husband's words with 
 a dreadful ghastly fear and a kind of sick terror. 
 
 124 
 
The White Beans 
 
 The scene flashed across her now as scenes flash 
 across the memories, they say, of drowning people. 
 The beans again! The beans again! 
 
 But perhaps not this time too late! She waited 
 with her eyes pressed against the crack, and saw 
 the native slip a knife through the flimsy clasp of 
 the door till it fell back, and he stood, a ghostly 
 figure, in the entrance to the Tuan's room. Then 
 he was lost to her sight, returning swiftly in a 
 moment — empty-handed. 
 
 Would he come to their room? If he did, and 
 if she dared to cry out, she knew what would 
 follow. His kris was ready, and there would be 
 no time for anything. She saw his face, and knew 
 it. He was the worst man she knew, and the most 
 wicked. There was one breathless, awful moment, 
 when he seemed to hesitate, his face turned to- 
 wards the door, and then he went on. She heard 
 the shutter closed almost noiselessly, she heard 
 the soft stealthy pat of his feet on the ground 
 outside, the rustle of the bamboos as if a snake 
 passed through them, and then nothing more. By 
 that time he would be picking his way through 
 the long-faded branches and streamers of the holy 
 tree, and so on to the road and up on his way to 
 the mountains. It was not probable that he would 
 wait to see the end of his work, for fear of any 
 chance of search or discovery. 
 
 125 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She got to her feet then, slowly and stealthily, 
 and opened the door. She was out in the gallery, 
 and saw that he had not shut the half-door. It 
 yielded against her hand, and she stood in the 
 Tuan's big airy room, and could see that he was 
 very sound asleep. Already it seemed to her that 
 he was breathing rather stertorously ; the smoke, 
 she knew, took action immediately. She could see 
 the saucer standing near the bed, and the little 
 wreath of smoke, which rose from it, growing 
 thicker and thicker. It assailed her nostrils with 
 a strange, stupefying effect, and she went up at 
 once and lifted the saucer. As she had thought, 
 the white beans were half-burned through. Hold- 
 ing it at arm's-length, she carried it out of the 
 room, and to the window of the veranda. There 
 she threw out the beans as far as she could, and 
 then, and only then, did the wild thuds of her 
 heart seem to quieten, and she could draw breath. 
 She went back to the room again. Fortunately the 
 Tuan was a sound sleeper, and she gently undid 
 the fastenings of the shutter and let in more air. 
 Even the chill, raw touch of the early morning 
 would be better than the fumes still left of the 
 deadly beans; they seemed to her to linger still 
 about the room, and to have rendered her dizzy, 
 even in her short journey over the matting of the 
 floor to the window. 
 
 126 
 
The White Beans 
 
 She went back then to the gallery, and sat till 
 she was afraid the Tuan might stir or hear the 
 groom going to water the horses. Then she went 
 in to shut the shutters. The room seemed clear 
 then, though she dared not wait to look at her 
 master, but crept back to Nancy's side, where she 
 sank down on her mats, and fell fast asleep through 
 very weariness and exhaustion. 
 
 It was high, hot morning when she awoke, with 
 the child's small hand upon her arm, and then she 
 heard a little gleeful laugh. 
 
 " Baboe, I have dressed myself. I have called, 
 and you could not waken, and I thought that you 
 were so very, very tired that I would let you alone. 
 And Father has fastened my dress for me. Poor 
 Father! he has such a dreadful headache." 
 
 The baboe looked up guiltily, with a flash of 
 fear. 
 
 "The Tuan is ill?" 
 
 " No, no, not ill, only a headache. But he has 
 told me that all night he has had dreadful dreams, 
 and has wakened, indeed, feeling as if he had gone 
 through all kinds of dangers. He was quite sur- 
 prised, Baboe, to find himself in his own bed, and 
 everything quite right." 
 
 The baboe sat up, passing her hand over her 
 forehead. She must get up at once, and bathe 
 and dress. The cold sting of the water would 
 
 127 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 bring back her courage and her strength. She, 
 too, had a wretched headache, and a strange sing- 
 ing in her ears. She had been just in time; the 
 headache would have passed into a kind of stupid 
 sleep, then would have come stupor, and then — 
 
 "Oh, you do look such a funny colour, Baboe! 
 I believe you have fever," Nancy said, pityingly, 
 then. " Father's head is so bad that he has 
 written to say he will not go to the mill till the 
 afternoon, and I am going to put my little wet 
 handkerchief upon his forehead with eau-de-cologne. 
 Mother used to do that before she went away.''" 
 
 Leaving the child safe with her father, the baboe 
 went out hastily to the river. She was late, and 
 the hot, white sunlight was streaming everywhere 
 upon the long rows of natives returning from the 
 market with their piled-up baskets. She felt, poor 
 soul, that she had come through a dreadful ex- 
 perience, and she scarcely waited to exchange a 
 word of gossip with any of them. And indeed 
 they looked a little askance at the baboe. She 
 was one of that ill-starred house, the house upon 
 which so dark a shadow had fallen. It was worse 
 than driving over holy ground, or even digging it 
 up, to cut down the sacred tree! And, moreover, 
 the baboe had not taken their side in the matter; 
 she had ventured even to excuse and to palliate 
 her master's action. Of a certainty ill-luck would 
 
 128 
 
The White Beans 
 
 oversliadow her. They did not care to gossip with 
 her now. 
 
 " There is a red spot of sirih on your jacket, 
 Baboe," a woman whispered maliciously in her ear 
 as she passed. "Yes, and there will be another 
 red stain on the little white dress of the child 
 to-day, and one on the white coat of the Tuan, 
 and you will know very well what that means. 
 For the holy tree still lies at the gate, and the 
 Black Hand is to be seen on the wall of the house! 
 But that will not matter, of course, to you; for 
 you will say that it was not wicked at all to cut 
 it down, and you will not care for the ill-luck ! " 
 
 The baboe would not heed this sinister whisper, 
 and she only gave a backward look of mingled 
 terror and defiance, and then went speeding down 
 the long road, her bare feet seeming scarcely to 
 touch the ground. But the red spot was on her 
 jacket ! 
 
 She did not see the Tuan till ryst-tafel, and 
 then she was passing through the gallery with 
 some work, when he called to her sharply and 
 angrily. 
 
 " Baboe, take the little mistress away at once 
 and change her dress!" 
 
 "But why, dear father? It is quite clean. It 
 was fresh this morning, and I have not dirtied it." 
 
 "There is a red spot on it! Take it away and 
 
 (B30) 129 I 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 change it!" he called again angrily to the baboe, 
 for his nerves were still on edge; and tremblingly 
 the woman approached and waited for the child to 
 rise. 
 
 Her eyes went in a kind of fascinated stare of 
 terror from the little red stain on the hem of the 
 child's India-muslin frock to the Tuan's handsome 
 angry face, and then it seemed to stiffen there, 
 for on the glossy white sleeve of the arm out- 
 stretched towards her was another red spot also! 
 Following her fascinated gaze, her master seemed 
 to become suddenly aware of it, and looking 
 down he leapt to his feet with something that 
 sounded like a muttered curse. He dashed into 
 his bed-room then, and she heard him loudly call- 
 ing the boy to put studs into a new jacket. When 
 he returned, however, he said nothing, and ryst- 
 tafel was finished in a gloomy silenop. 
 
 The baboe had changed the little frock, her 
 hands shaking. How had this spot got there? 
 Not through her, she felt quite certain, for she 
 was never, of course, permitted to chew her sirih 
 in the child's presence. How had it got upon the 
 spotless sleeve of the tuan himself? And on her 
 clean jacket! 
 
 Did he know the sinister menace of that little 
 red spot? Had he heard of it? 
 
 The baboe turned over the white dresses in the 
 
 130 
 
The White Beans 
 
 long drawer, her hands shaking. She felt as if 
 surrounded by an invisible net which enmeshed 
 them closer and closer. She had thrown away the 
 beans; she had averted that danger; what was to 
 follow next? 
 
 She looked round the bungalow with a shiver; 
 it was as if a gray haunting spectre of fear lurked 
 always in the shadows. 
 
 Oh, if that dreadful tree could only be taken 
 away! If only, by some means, they could re- 
 move those dark glossy leaves, those horrible long 
 streamers ! 
 
 What would come next? Where would the 
 waiting spectre touch them next? The chUd? 
 Would it.be the child? 
 
 131 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Black Hand 
 
 The roads were so perfect that Elspeth had gladly 
 accepted Madame's kind offer of the bicycle which 
 her governess sometimes rode, and she used to 
 start out after tea, leaving the old ladies placidly 
 and firmly asleep in their shaded rooms. 
 
 Elspeth was too fresh from home and too full of 
 energy to be able yet to sleep in the afternoon ; she 
 said a spin through the shady roads was much 
 more refreshing, and though Van Delden did not 
 seem quite sure of the wisdom of the proceeding, 
 she only laughed at his scruples. Neither of the 
 two men could attend her, as they were busy in 
 the mill till eight o'clock, and Madame was at this 
 time absent in Samarang. 
 
 Elspeth had grown quite accustomed to these 
 solitary rides, and indeed enjoyed them amazingly. 
 The natives would make way for her in the crowded 
 roads, frantically wheeling and dragging wagons 
 and cane carts aside ; in the more solitary places the 
 few riders she met dismounted from their ponies 
 
 132 
 
The Black Hand 
 
 and uncovered till she passed; and children would 
 run out wildly from the little thatched huts, 
 staring with solemn and bewildered eyes at this 
 strange white vision on the magic wheel. 
 
 But she had never gone far, till one afternoon a 
 few days after this. She had started earlier than 
 usual, and had gone farther than usual; then, 
 taking the wrong turning, found to her dismay 
 that she had lost her way. It had seemed a road 
 like so many of the others, tree-lined and solitary, 
 without a hut in sight; but the sun was already 
 setting in a great globe of crimson fire, on which 
 a group of cocoa-nut palms was strangely silhou- 
 etted, with here and there in the foreground a few 
 tattered banana-trees and sago-palms, when she 
 made the discovery that she did not know where 
 she was. And " with one stride", she knew, would 
 " come the dark ". Her little basket was full of 
 luscious gardenias which she had gathered from a 
 hedge above the river. The scent seemed to sicken 
 her after a little, as she retraced her path more 
 than once, by and by growing vaguely alarmed. 
 
 Supposing she could not make the people under- 
 stand? Suppose she had unwittingly wandered 
 into a dangerous hamvpong (village)? She had 
 heard Van Delden say all were not safe. She hesi- 
 tated; then, half-laughing at her own doubts, leaped 
 into the saddle again, and went speeding down the 
 
 133 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 road. Worse and worse, it ended in a rice-field, 
 and the red glow had faded and the road was in 
 pitchy darkness. A steamy, sickly wind in her 
 face seemed to betoken night. The day was gone. 
 " At the worst I could sleep out," she said to 
 herself; " and if it was not that it would frighten 
 the old ladies, I don't think I'd mind. If I could 
 only find one of these deserted native huts I saw 
 one day, I would go in and rest. I'm afraid I'm 
 only going farther and farther astray, and I am 
 dreadfully hot. I could dine on bananas; there 
 are sure to be trees about. I wonder if they ever 
 grow ripe on the trees? And it would be an 
 adventure to write to Walter. Suppose I saw a 
 snake, or a tiger peeped at me through the wall? 
 My bicycle-lamp would frighten him off. Oh dear, 
 I wish it wasn't quite so dark under the trees! I 
 can't even see the stars!" 
 
 She began to wish Van Delden had not told her 
 his wild tales of Javanese superstition. They had 
 sounded very delightful in the veranda, with Miss 
 Lavender dozing over her tatting or The Rock, and 
 with all the lights from the other verandas pour- 
 ing out into the dark road; but here, alone, in the 
 dark and the silence! "Walter will say I should 
 not have come alone, so will Van Delden. Dick 
 will say — no, he won't say anything. He wUl come 
 out to seek for me." 
 
 134 
 
The Black Hand 
 
 How did she know that? And if he had not yet 
 returned? At last she uttered a faint cry of relief. 
 Twinkling in the distance she saw first one torch- 
 light, then another, and another; finally, she could 
 make out a group of dark figures in the centre of 
 the road which stretched away before her. 
 
 She pedalled along rapidly, and was in their 
 midst before they heard her. They seemed talking 
 low and fiercely. They were gathered, to her sur- 
 prise, around the huge trunk of a tree, whose 
 immense branches, dark -green leaves, and long 
 streamers, of what looked like a fakir's beard, were 
 prone in the dust of the road, fairly blocking up 
 the way. She had scarcely time, however, to see 
 this when, as if terrified at her approach, they fled 
 incontinently, scattering to right and left down the 
 road; and she was left to call after them in feeble 
 Malay, to which no one paid the slightest atten- 
 tion. 
 
 She looked round then, and to her unutterable 
 relief she saw that a solitary European house was 
 before her; the veranda, lit by a single lamp, stood 
 just across the usual stiff little garden, with its 
 rose-trees in white and brick-red pots, and a group 
 of palms in the circular plot before the house. 
 
 She could see inside the veranda, as she left her 
 machine by the gate, the usual stiff interior: two 
 round tables, with their four accompanying cane 
 
 135 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 rockers; a few Japanese brackets on the wall (rather 
 fewer than was usual) ; one or two satin kakimonas ; 
 and a picture, evidently a photograph, of a breaking 
 sea, on an easel. 
 
 " Well, it is European, if there is no sign of life 
 anywhere," she said to herself with relief. "And the 
 Dutch are all so nice, they will be sure to help me. 
 I wonder there is no mevrouw, however, rocking, 
 and drinking ' stroop', and waiting for her lord and 
 master. It is queer, too, that tree — " She paused, 
 suddenly remembering something. " Suppose that 
 is the holy tree! — that this is the house where the 
 strange events are taking place!" 
 
 " Perhaps it is deserted," was her next idea, " and 
 they have sent the little girl to Madame's. One 
 good thing, I can see the stars; there is the Cross. 
 Ah, here is someone! It is the child!" 
 
 The slender white figure of a little girl had just 
 stepped out from an inner room, a baboe behind 
 her. The woman seemed either expostulating or 
 pleading, but the child waved her away half- 
 imperiously, going to the top of the three steps 
 on which the veranda stood, and looking up at the 
 blazing constellations of the Cross, which seemed to 
 hang protectingly above her. The child looked up, 
 and nothing stirred; in the background the baboe 
 hovered uneasily. Elspeth stood as if rooted to 
 the ground for a moment, for the little girl was 
 
 136 
 
The Black Hand 
 
 speaking in Englisli, and tlie words reached her 
 quite distinctly where she stood. 
 
 " Please God in heaven send my father home 
 safe, and don't let me see the Black Hand." 
 
 The Black Hand! Then this was indeed the 
 house! She walked up softly and called to the 
 child in English: 
 
 " Little girl, I have lost my way. Will you let 
 me come in and talk to you?" 
 
 A pair of startled blue eyes turned to her and 
 rested on her with a child's wondering scrutiny, 
 and then, as if satisfied, there came a long sigh. 
 A child is never very much astonished; life is all 
 so full of surprises. 
 
 " Oh yes, come in!" she said. "Perhaps you will 
 sit beside me up here, and we can send the baboe 
 away? She only cries and whimpers, and says 
 ' Kassian '. That means, it is a pity." 
 
 "What is a pity?" 
 
 " She is dreadfully afraid. She says it is the 
 evil time for us all, you know, because of the war- 
 ingi-tree! But nothing has happened for three 
 nights, and my father had to go over to the cane- 
 fields. Mr. Dick was here, but he had to go away 
 for a little too. He told the baboe to keep me 
 inside, but I cannot stand her crying; and, besides, 
 I am so hot. Oh, it is hot!" 
 
 She stretched her small bare arms above her 
 
 137 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 head. Her pale little features were fuU in the 
 meagre light of the lamp as she pointed to a chair; 
 they looked thin and pinched and wan. 
 
 " Sit down, mevrouw. Are you a mevrouw?" 
 
 "No; I am an English girl." 
 
 " Like my mother? She was English, and I 
 speak only English and Malay. Have you ever 
 seen the Black Hand?" 
 
 She broke off suddenly, and her voice altered 
 and fell. She seemed to shiver even in the close 
 sultry air. " My father does not — Mr. Dick does 
 not! Only I! It comes there — there on the wall 
 — when I am alone, and then the dreadful stones! 
 From all sides ! Oh, if only we had not cut down 
 the holy tree!" 
 
 Elspeth saw that she was shivering violently — 
 something in the terror of the child's voice seemed 
 to communicate itself to her own nerves. The 
 lamp, too, as if insufficiently supplied, was burning 
 low and lower. Elspeth wondered if it was only 
 her fancy that dark forms flitted to and fro about 
 the house, with every now and then a subdued 
 hissing whisper? 
 
 " Come," she said, taking the child on her knee, 
 and stroking the damp hair back from the white 
 forehead. "You mustn't be nervous! There can- 
 not really be a black hand, or, if there is, it is only 
 someone trying to frighten us. And we are not 
 
 138 
 
The Black Hand 
 
 going to be frightened! God wUl take care of you 
 — and of father." 
 
 "And of Mr. Dick?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But Baboe says God is angry about the holy 
 tree, and that never will we be happy again. She 
 says that my father — Ah! look there — look there!" 
 
 Her voice died away in a frozen whisper. Fol- 
 lowing her fascinated gaze, backward, Elspeth did 
 indeed see, silhouetted on the wall, the shadow of 
 a dark hand — a ghastly hand — with threatening 
 fingers, claw-like and menacing. The child moaned 
 and hid her face; she shuddered as if in an ague. 
 At that moment, as if from the heavens above them, 
 an awful reverberating crash of thunder broke with 
 appalling suddenness. It was as if an unknown 
 horror of some kind were descending, an unknown 
 calamity; and then, from all sides, above, to the 
 right and left, came a shower of stones, crashing 
 on the floor, breaking the flower-pots, falling on 
 every side. 
 
 Elspeth started to her feet; but now they were 
 in utter darkness — the lamp had gone out just at 
 the crucial moment, — and she stood holding the 
 terrified child to her, at bay against these hidden 
 destroyers, yet helpless, weaponless, defenceless. 
 
 " How dare you? Oh, how dare you?" 
 
 A blinding flash of lightning — then the heavens 
 
 139 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 seemed to open, and down came the rain. The 
 stones redoubled. She had hidden the child's face; 
 she was covering her with her own strong young 
 arms. It seemed to her as if a mocking laugh rang 
 out — a baleful laugh of hate and horror. Were 
 they going to be stoned to death? The missiles 
 were striking her now, but in the background she 
 heard the baboe's voice calling piteously to her 
 charge, and, groping to the door, she found it 
 locked. She fell, then, struck to the earth by a 
 blow on the temple, her last effort one to shield 
 the child, who lay limp and unconscious in her 
 clasp. And then there came a lull. — the stones 
 ceased. Only the hiss of the rain falling on the 
 corrugated iron roof broke the silence. The baboe 
 crept out stealthily, and knelt down by the two 
 white figures, wringing her hands and moaning. 
 
 " I know no peace till I am back. You told the 
 baboe to keep her within? And you are sure your 
 men would watch the house?" 
 
 " They promised they would. If Pa-Reis is not 
 back." 
 
 " You fear he is?" 
 
 " Yes, I heard so this evening. And of course 
 he rejoices in a business like this. It gives him 
 some excuse to excite them, to add fuel to fire. 
 But I hope you will listen to me and send Nancy 
 
 140 
 
The Black Hand 
 
 away. Madame is to be back this week. It is not 
 good for the child — I mean the atmosphere here — 
 and all these whispering women. And there is no 
 doubt that, by whatever agency they do it, super- 
 natural or merely their own fiendish invention, 
 they have managed to scare her. And the stones 
 were real!" 
 
 "I will send for soldiers from Samarang. I 
 cannot leave my work — and the chUd — is all 
 I have—" 
 
 " You will think of the child first, I know," Dick 
 said in his quiet voice. " She could come back 
 whenever this has blown over, or we could take 
 her. We have an English girl with us — HuUoa! 
 All in darkness." 
 
 They were driving fast through the tropical rain, 
 Dick handling the reins, and as they turned a 
 bend in the road he saw that the veranda was 
 unlit. He had told watchmen to surround it with 
 lights. There were none. His face changed, and 
 his teeth clenched. He was the first to leap from 
 the dog-cart as he drew it up by the fallen tree, 
 and he dashed for the house, calling as he ran. In 
 a moment a light trembled in the back regions. 
 Dick called again, and a trembling old servant, his 
 head-handkerchief awry, his face pallid with fear, 
 brought a small kitchen lamp. The young man 
 stumbled over the stones, the frantic father behind 
 
 141 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 him, and then they saw the two white figures at 
 the door. 
 
 "A woman!" Dick cried. "But where is the 
 child? Ah, here! — and I think— coming to! But 
 the girl — turn up her face." 
 
 Her father was clasping Nancy, who clung to 
 him, crying hysterically, and Dick lifted Elspeth's 
 head upon his knee, and recognized her. She came 
 to herself then, and to his amazement smiled feebly 
 in his face. For a moment there was silence. 
 
 " You want to know how I — got into this — ga- 
 lere ? " she whispered. " I'm very thankful to see you ! 
 It's been rather surprising ! And I don't know that 
 I want any more Javanese horrors!" 
 
 "Miss Macdonald! Elspeth! Are you hurt?" 
 
 She sat up then, touching her head faintly. " I 
 believe I'm bruised all over, but not — kilt entirely," 
 she said. " Please help me to my feet. I want to 
 make sure." 
 
 Dick did so, keeping hold of the slim cool hand 
 as she rocked for a moment, unsteadily. She 
 looked very tall and slim and white, but she 
 smiled faintly still, and the red was creeping back 
 to her face. " By Jove, she's game!" he said to 
 himself, in curious delight. "She's game!" 
 
 But he stood quite silent, saying nothing. 
 
 142 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A Snake in the Grass 
 
 Little Nancy was taken to tlie lodgie next day, 
 and Elspetli returned home. She was far less hurt 
 than Dick had feared — less than she herself had 
 expected. Dick had asked her, as they drove back, 
 to make light, if possible, of the story. Nothing 
 would come, he said, of blazoning it abroad. It 
 would be quite impossible, in the unsettled state of 
 affairs at the mill, to bring the culprits to justice; 
 an enquiry would only add fuel to the fire. She 
 was never to lose herself again — that was all. But 
 one had to act in the East, sometimes, as one 
 would not in Europe. Elspeth looked up at him 
 at that with a good deal of surprise. There was 
 even a faint tinge of scorn in her voice as she said 
 coolly : " And the people are to go unpunished, 
 the child is to be scared to death, I am to be 
 black and blue for weeks, Mr. Creutzberg is to lose 
 his peace of mind, and, incidentally, his child's 
 society, because you are afraid to make an enquiry? 
 Is that quite English?" 
 
 143 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 He did not look at her as he said slowly: "It 
 was a mistake to cut down the tree, as it was a mis- 
 take to make our natives bite the cartridges before 
 the Mutiny. If history is to teach us anything it 
 teaches us that to run athwart a nation's prejudice 
 and belief is madness. I believe George Eliot says 
 somewhere : * Nothing would be a lesson to us if it 
 did not come too late'; but one is wise, at least, to 
 make use of other people's lessons. Here we are a 
 moiety. They could drive us into the sea at any 
 moment, and they know it. And lately large 
 drafts of the soldiers have been sent to Atji, where 
 the Dutch have had reverses." 
 
 " I see." Elspeth shrugged her shoulders ever 
 so faintly. " So the wrongs are to go unavenged 
 because we are a moiety. Very well, I will not 
 mention the Black Hand nor the stones." 
 
 She was thinking how dijfferently Walter would 
 have acted, how imperiously he would have de- 
 cided that the miscreants should be brought to 
 justice. Yes, she decided she preferred a man who 
 was a man. She was silent all the way home, 
 thinking of Walter. 
 
 Dick saw her absorbed, and was quite aware of 
 her opinion of him, but he said nothing. 
 
 Van Delden's loud and eflfusive comments on her 
 heroism, and on the iniquity of letting the thing 
 drop, were faintly soothing afterwards. Elspeth 
 
 144 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 decided Dick was phlegmatic after all, and that she 
 did not like phlegmatic people. She had not seen 
 his white face as he bent over her in the veranda. 
 
 A few days passed uneventfully. Madame 
 called, bringing Nancy with her, the child looking 
 a little less frail and delicate. She went over to 
 Elspeth after a little, leaning on her elbow confid- 
 ingly on the English girl's knee and whispering in 
 her ear. 
 
 " I never see the Black Hand now. It is gone. 
 Father does not see it. But my baboe says all is 
 not well, for that the holy tree lies still prone by 
 the gate. She says that if Dick had not come we 
 should not be here. The Black Hand is afraid of 
 Dick. But we are not to talk of that, Madame 
 says, and I am not to think of it." 
 
 " They have trained the child well," Elspeth 
 thought, but she said nothing, looking up, then, to 
 find Madame's strangely sad eyes fixed upon her. 
 The old ladies had moved to the other end of the 
 veranda to talk to another Dutch visitor, and 
 Madame Disselhoff sat down beside her. 
 
 " I believe you think we are very cowardly not 
 to probe the mystery," she said with her gentle 
 smile. " I gathered that. Bat you do not know 
 this country." 
 
 " Apparently not," Elspeth tried to laugh. She 
 rolled up the thin sleeve of her muslin blouse then, 
 
 (B30) 145 K 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and showed a deep, black bruise. " That is the 
 mark of the Black Hand. I don't think I minded 
 the pain, but it is the mark, a black mark on a 
 white woman's arm!" 
 
 Madame, who had all the pride of race too, 
 flushed as she heard. She put out her cool, soft 
 fingers and touched the place. " I am sorry, and 
 I understand. My husband feels the same, and he 
 wished to send to Samarang for soldiers, and have 
 an enquiry. But Mr. Beresford and I over- 
 persuaded him. You see we were thinking of 
 Nancy's father. There are certain things in Java 
 we cannot fight. It is like fighting the air. Per- 
 haps if I told you them you would not believe me. 
 But they are true. All we know is that they 
 happened. I had a cousin here whose husband 
 made his men dig up a piece of holy ground. She 
 was haunted after by a spot of red sirih on her 
 white jacket. It was like blood. Always it was 
 there — always. It got on her nerves, and when 
 her child came, and the mark was there on the 
 baby's little dress too, she fevered and died. We 
 do not know how it came, nor how the stones came, 
 nor the Black Hand, but they were there. And 
 we want to let the sleeping dog lie. It is your 
 saying, is it not?" 
 
 She turned then, smiling to the old ladies, and 
 presently she rose with Nancy to take her leave. 
 
 146 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 " I suppose she and Dick know best," the girl 
 said to herself, " but I don't know. I'd rather 
 probe the thing to the bottom, even if there was 
 a row. That would be Walter's way." 
 
 Dick seemed quieter than usual after this, as if 
 conscious that he had somehow fallen from her 
 good graces; but he was very busy at the mill, as 
 the sugar harvest had just begun, and as he was 
 often called back after dinner too, she saw little of 
 him. He had requested her not to ride beyond 
 bounds, that was all; and as the bicycle had been 
 returned, she was wont, half- ruefully, to say he 
 had clipped her wings. She was confined, there- 
 fore, to the walks of the vicinity, or to driving in 
 the evening with the old ladies and a careful and 
 elderly coachman. 
 
 And Miss Horatio's list seemed some time in 
 being made up in Batavia. 
 
 The wheels of all government aflfairs, Dick told 
 her, turn with exceeding deliberation. 
 
 Elspeth had gone down by the river one after- 
 noon — not the muddy stream which ran behind 
 the native kampong, in which the natives bathed 
 and washed, but the great stream — the " river of 
 gold" is the native name — which was flowing to- 
 day in a wide expanse of swift resistless current, 
 edged by a band of parched bamboos and sand, 
 the broad, shady road standing high above it. 
 
 147 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She had come here often to seat herself on the 
 sand and watch the curious craft which plied to 
 and fro, odd boats with high prows, half-remini- 
 scent of a Eoman galley, half of a Venetian 
 gondola, with the usual impassive native placidly- 
 drifting with the stream or rowing with a long 
 oar. 
 
 Sometimes they were laden with sugar-cane, 
 sometimes with fruit or Indian corn. Beyond, 
 the mighty back of the volcano rose in silent 
 majesty, with to-day a steady red flame mingling 
 with the puff of gray smoke on the top. Van 
 Delden alv/ays said the Slamat had his cigar, 
 and lit it of a hot evening. 
 
 Elspeth sat down on the sand now, and took 
 out Walter's last letter. He was a very good 
 letter-writer, and she decided it was almost a pity 
 that only she saw these brilliant productions. Such 
 scathing criticisms, such brilliant deep -reaching 
 views; he gave her a living picture of the House, 
 of the men who were making their mark, or who 
 were slowly fading from the political horizon. He 
 had a great contempt for them, and for all stupid 
 people. He used to say he " abhorred failures ". 
 
 She had read this letter so often that she did 
 not again re-read the political part. There was a 
 little bit at the end which was personal. She 
 found herself wishing it were longer: 
 
 148 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 " I hope that you will be able to induce the old 
 ladies to see things properly. To settle down for 
 any length of time in a dull, up-country estate 
 would be madness. Mr. Tubbs's nephew cannot, I 
 should say, be worthy of any lengthened scrutiny, 
 and I do not know that you will find society in 
 these parts very exhilarating. Do, my darling girl, 
 induce the Tabbies to travel! Try if possible to 
 see the native dignities. I came across a book on 
 Java the other day, and I see there is someone 
 called Emperor of Solo, and another individual 
 who designates himself the 'Nail of the Earth'. 
 A bright article with that heading would be sure 
 to be well placed. Go everywhere, and see every- 
 thing. Do not recognize obstacles! Martindale 
 has just come in, so I must go. 
 
 "As ever, your own, 
 
 "Walter." 
 
 Elspeth raised her head with a faint sigh. 
 
 "'Do not recognize obstacles!' That was like 
 Walter. He did not recognize obstacles. He 
 would be very displeased if he knew we were 
 doing nothing here," she said to herself. "Poor 
 Dick Beresford! I know Walter would decide at 
 once that he was stupid. And he would laugh at 
 Van Delden. I don't know that he would think 
 
 149 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Van Delden amusing. I wish Walter did not find 
 so many people stupid ! But I suppose that is the 
 result of being so clever. I am only an average 
 person myself, so 1 suppose that is why I like 
 others." 
 
 She decided that this was so. She sat picturing 
 the scene he had told her of in the House. That 
 great and proud assembly, the crowded benches, 
 the surrounding galleries, the busy pens of the 
 reporters, carrying all that passed to that great, 
 patient audience, who wait, phantom -like, but 
 never very far off, for the story — Walter on his 
 feet, rapid, fluent, self-possessed. He had won a 
 place so quickly! How brave he was, how virile, 
 how sure of himself, how indifferent to these angry 
 voices from the Irish benches, sometimes the dis- 
 sentient tones from his own side! 
 
 " I shall come and hear you very often when we 
 are married," she had said once to him. " I shall 
 never tire of it. Oh, I think the House is the 
 greatest place in all London!" 
 
 She was very far away in these thoughts. It 
 was pleasant now, and the brief moment of cool 
 daylight respite before the dark, was coming on. 
 The bamboos rustled with their peculiar dry, hiss- 
 ing whisper behind her; the last of a long line of 
 high-prowed boats had just slipped past. A faint 
 red stain was creeping down the water. Sunset! 
 
 150 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 She must go. And she had meant to walk home 
 by the assistant-resident's garden and see the huge 
 water-lily, the great " Victoria Kegina ", which was 
 out in the pond there. 
 
 Just then a small native boat shot in below her, 
 and a native stepped out and stood for a moment 
 looking up. He looked somehow startled to see 
 her there. His face seemed silhouetted against the 
 evening light, the face of the man to whom Madame 
 had spoken on the day of the market. His eyes 
 rested oddly on Elspeth with a look of sharp and 
 swift scrutiny, and then it went beyond her and 
 seemed to fasten and fix on something he saw 
 there. Elspeth saw a look of sudden, startled 
 attention; the next moment he had sprung up 
 the bank and had dragged her from her seat. A 
 crashing blow with the stick he carried, a horrible 
 sinuous rustle and writhing! She bent forward 
 eagerly, and saw in the red sand the horrible rings, 
 the bleeding head of a snake! 
 
 It had been just behind her; another moment 
 — she turned a little dizzy as she thought. Van 
 Delden had described to her the attributes of all 
 the deadly snakes he knew, and this — yes, there 
 were the black and white rings! 
 
 It was the "ularwilang"! She would have lived 
 only a little — after that! Scarcely to see the 
 dark! 
 
 151 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 When she raised her head the man was wiping 
 his knife on the sand, doing all deliberately in a 
 native's impassive way. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know how to thank you!" Elspeth 
 cried, forgetting everything but gratitude. " I 
 don't suppose you understand a word — of course 
 you don't, — but you have saved my life!" 
 
 He stood looking at her. He seemed to wait 
 and listen. His eyes wandered over her dress — 
 the white drill skirt, the fresh pale-blue blouse, the 
 soft white ribbon twisted round her neck and then 
 tied in a dainty bow, down to her tan shoes and 
 brown raw-silk stockings. 
 
 " Thank you! Oh, I wish I knew how to say it!" 
 
 She shook her head, and the charming face 
 was upraised to his. 
 
 " Tuan Beresford, Tuan Van Delden; he will 
 understand that." She pointed towards the 
 bungalow. " He will come, and they will give 
 him something (he looks almost too grand and 
 stately), and now good-bye!" 
 
 She nodded and smiled, pointing up to the road. 
 
 He bent his tall head. He stood looking at 
 her after she had walked away, casting a shudder- 
 ing glance at the sinuous line with the bleeding 
 head at her feet, and then she disappeared through 
 the bamboos and on to the broad road. 
 
 " Snakes at least are not myths," Elspeth was 
 
 152 
 
'HE STOOD LOOKING AT HER AFTER SHE HAD WALKED AWAY 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 saying to herself. " The horrible flat head must 
 have been just behind me. And that strange 
 native undoubtedly saved my life." 
 
 The light had all gone. Above in the road 
 there were fewer bullock-wagons, the soft swift 
 crowd of pedestrians was lessened. Those who 
 walked, carried torches, and were challenged from 
 all the little watch-houses which lined the road 
 at intervals. It was growing late. Eight strokes 
 from the wooden gong of the watch-house was 
 echoed from the next, and then, faint and fainter, 
 from the next. 
 
 In the European houses facing the road the 
 lamps were carried in, and the tuan and his wife 
 chatted and rocked; Mynheer sipped his pahit 
 and smoked, Mevrouw glanced over Illustrations 
 or chatted. 
 
 Madame had new blouses from the French dress- 
 maker in Samarang. She looked lovely in them. 
 The cook had stolen a new sarong. There was 
 to be a marriage in the village, and a great 
 slamatang (feast) for five nights. In all that time 
 no one would shut an eye. Not an eye! It was 
 " Verschnkklich ". 
 
 In the native huts the women made ready the 
 evening meal. Rice and "sambul", red peppers, 
 sometimes coffee. 
 
 153 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 The children slept. For the day begins with 
 the first touch of dawn's silver sandals in the 
 sky. It dips out, with the ball of red, in the 
 west. 
 
 Down by the river, scarcely a shadow against 
 the velvety dark, the tall figure of the native 
 still stood, his eyes fixed upon the distance. The 
 night here was emphasized by the light which 
 streamed out on to the road above from the 
 cheerful bungalows. Here there was only the 
 rush of the turbidly - flowing river — swollen by 
 rains from the hills, — the hoarse rustle of the 
 bamboos, sometimes a splash from the water as 
 a fish leapt high. Pale silver stars pricked the 
 sky. A little red pencil of flame, where the 
 Slamat had lit his cigar. By and by, soft and 
 effulgent, the Cross hung, jewel-like, overhead. 
 
 "An English voice! An English face! Oh, 
 my God! She had hair like my mother!" 
 
 Hair that lay thickly on the white nape of 
 her neck, that grew back with a rich curling 
 sweep from a white forehead. His mother! 
 
 " Her voice unlocked the gate, and I thought 
 I had fastened, and double-locked, and bolted it. 
 I believed things were all growing a little far-off", 
 the wild, wild dream of a madman!" 
 
 But the gate was unlocked, and they trooped 
 out before him, the dead-and-gone phantoms. We 
 
 154 
 
A Snake in the Grass 
 
 never lay some ghosts; no sod can cover them; 
 no coffin hide them away. 
 
 " I had forgotten how they spoke and laughed. 
 How a happy woman laughed." 
 
 He turned to the place then, and could see 
 her. He forgot about the snake, his own swift 
 action. He was hearing again a girl's English 
 voice. 
 
 He felt as if he had awakened from a dream 
 of hell, and found himself a child, in heaven. 
 Back in the days of youth and innocence. 
 
 Slowly, almost dreamily, he moved at last and 
 climbed the bank. With his head bent he trudged 
 along the road, and turned down mechanically by 
 the rice-fields to the native quarter. He walked 
 as if without volition. When they challenged 
 him at the guard-house, he made no reply, and 
 the native watchman sent a stick whizzing past 
 his head unnoticed, then, shrugging his shoulder, 
 returned to his mat. 
 
 A little dark native woman, slender and refined, 
 was waiting at the gate, and she ran in when she 
 saw him coming, and lit the lamps inside the hut. 
 It was barely furnished, but after the European 
 model, and the chUd lay asleep in one corner. 
 His wife began to speak, lightly and cheerfully. 
 She did not appear to notice when he made no 
 answer. She babbled on. Then she put down 
 
 155 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the rice and the fowl. She asked if he had been 
 kept up at the mUl? 
 
 When he shook his head she relapsed into 
 silence and sat down to her work. A shadow fell 
 over her face too. It was the strange dark mood 
 she dreaded. 
 
 He sat on, staring into silence, his arms folded, 
 till she had gone to bed, and then he rose suddenly, 
 and, going up to the child's bed, stood looking down 
 at him. Something in his heart gave way. The 
 dream was broken. He lifted the boy and carried 
 him out to the road. The little dark face pressed 
 against his, and a groan broke from him at last. 
 A dry sob. He was here, not there. He was the 
 native, Eedjo. That other man, the murderer, was 
 dead and buried. 
 
 The child cried faintly, and nestled close. The 
 father raised his eyes and saw the great Cross 
 bejewelled in the sky. It seemed to hang pro- 
 tectingly above them both. But it carried no 
 message to his heart. 
 
 166 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 The Dead Horse 
 
 " I don't like the look of things," Dick said. "Upon 
 my word, I don't. I saw Creutzberg yesterday. 
 He's going home." 
 
 "Going home?" 
 
 "Yes. They've been up to some devilment 
 with his food. Hairs of bamboo fibre split into 
 little bits and put into every grain of rice, I think. 
 That's one of their practices. I didn't like the look 
 of the cook, and told him so. Dutch Doctor 
 doesn't know — can't diagnose, — thinks it may be 
 lungs. Now, Creutzberg's lungs were as sound 
 as a bell. I got in the native doctor. He knows 
 their dodges, though he said nothing. After, I 
 saw him in private. Could he diagnose the case? 
 No. Was it poison? No. What was it? He 
 leant forward, without looking me in the face. 
 ' Tell the tuan to go home,' he said. ' Tell him 
 he will die here! Frighten him! Say his lungs 
 are going, if you like. His lungs are wrong!' 
 Creutzberg was biddable after the baas saw him, 
 
 157 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and he is going. He is weak as a rat, and cough- 
 ing blood. That means chopped bamboo fibre put 
 into every grain of rice he eats! But that they 
 dare do it shows their strength." 
 
 " I would fetch a regiment," Van Delden cried, 
 " and have the house watched." 
 
 "You might fetch a battalion! You can't very 
 well surround all the cooks. They will manage to 
 get at his food somehow, and all the battalions 
 to spare are at Atji. To tell you the truth, Her- 
 man, I wish this milling was over, and these good 
 ladies gone! I don't know why they should be in 
 this gaUre\ I wish they were safe at home!" 
 
 " I, not." Van Delden was brief on occasion. 
 " There can be no danger for them, and I wish to 
 keep one of them here for ever and for ever more. 
 I shall try to do so. You may guess the which." 
 
 A straight line was apparent on Dick's forehead. 
 " She — you haven't said anything, have you?" he 
 said, clearing his throat. 
 
 " No, I bide my time. When I speak the com- 
 pliments, she laughs. It is a charming laugh, but 
 I sometimes wish she would sigh. A sigh is a very 
 good sign. Often I sigh ! It is a sign of love." 
 
 " Yes, you do," Dick agreed callously. " And 
 I wouldn't if I were you. It's like a grampus. 
 Last night Miss Horatio asked me if you were 
 snoring in your chair. Well, I must be going. 
 
 168 
 
The Dead Horse 
 
 It seems they are all coming through the mill 
 to-day, to see the start of the milling. I told Miss 
 Lavender about the rice they put out to propitiate 
 the demons in the machinery, and she's all agog to 
 see it. Hopes she'll see a demon, I think!" 
 
 He went off, thinking deeply, after that. He 
 was a good deal worried over certain clouds on 
 the near horizon, and the administrator, he knew, 
 suspected danger. Certain necessary and stringent 
 reforms had been carried out in the management, 
 after rather a lax predecessor. Petty thieving had 
 been made impossible, sundry delinquents had been 
 dismissed and brought to justice, and the conse- 
 quence was a seething pool of discontent amongst 
 the natives. Cutting down the holy tree had come 
 at a bad time. This might settle down if left 
 further undisturbed, and if the hadjis kept quiet, 
 and if a few fanatics did not return from Mecca. 
 And it might not! 
 
 Then there was Van Delden's information. 
 
 " I don't think she cares in that way," Dick told 
 himself. " She laughs at him. I ought to be sorry 
 for Van Delden, but I'm not! I ought to sympa- 
 thize. I don't! I sometimes feel that I'd give the 
 world if she'd even laugh at me ! But she doesn't. 
 She seems somehow always weighing me in the 
 balance. And now I suppose I can do nothing till 
 Van Delden gets his answer." 
 
 159 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 He could only go on loving her. 
 
 They were all very busy in the hot mill. Ma- 
 chinery roared, and moiled, and groaned, and 
 revolved. Everyone was busy, from the coolies 
 who threw the long purple stems into the great 
 crushers at one end, to the bare-footed women who 
 tossed the dry brown sugar in great spadefuls 
 into the waiting baskets, ready for transporta- 
 tion. It was dreadfully hot and noisy. The 
 natives worked impassively, sulkily. When the 
 manager appeared, a little later, Dick thought he 
 looked ill and worried. There had been more men 
 dismissed that day — one a hadji. Murmurs were 
 loud and deep; but the thing had to be carried 
 through. 
 
 The ladies appeared presently from the lodgie, 
 ushered by Madame, looking beautiful but delicate, 
 in her richly-coloured sarong and white jacket ; the 
 old ladies walked in front, and Elspeth behind her. 
 Miss Lavender fanned herself incessantly. Van 
 Delden acted as her guide. Miss Horatio put an 
 array of trenchant, shrewd questions to the mana- 
 ger, and Dick found himself behind with Elspeth,, 
 fragments of Miss Lavender's conversation being 
 wafted back to them, 
 
 "And this is where you work?" Elspeth was 
 saying. " What a delicious smell of toffee and 
 brown sugar! And what a sea of treacle! Dear 
 
 160 
 
The Dead Horse 
 
 me, what a paradise for children! I always liked 
 treacle. But it is hot! I do not think I would 
 come to make even toffee in this atmosphere!" 
 
 "We do not notice it. Heat is easier to bear 
 than cold. I remember crying with chilblains 
 as a small boy. You don't find people weeping 
 with too much heat!" 
 
 " I have seen them look as if they could scarcely 
 keep sane with heat," she said rather gravely. 
 " In the Eed Sea. I do not like to think of 
 crossing the Eed Sea again. But I suppose I 
 shall have to! I remember my father used to 
 say it did not do to dread our Eed Seas. Very 
 often — as in the old story — the path is made 
 through them." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " things are often worse in 
 anticipation than in reality. Do you see this plate 
 of rice? This is to propitiate the demons of ill- 
 luck which the men believe haunt the milL I see 
 this is uneaten. This particular demon is un- 
 appeased. I hope that is not a bad sign." 
 
 Miss Lavender fluttered back to their side then, 
 a note-book in her hand. "Dear Elspeth, I was 
 jotting down a few things — Horatio said it would 
 make such a good letter home — about the making 
 of sugar, and the poor people's beliefs. I wondered 
 if we could not tell them here that it is all non- 
 sense? Isn't it sad to leave them in darkness? 
 
 <B30) 161 L 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 I am sure if Miss Scott or Mr. Tubbs could be 
 here, they would give them such a nice little ad- 
 dress! Explaining, you know. They would draw 
 such beautiful examples and similes. Miss Scott 
 always said natives were virgin soil, and that one 
 could plant anything in their minds, and leave 
 Apollo to water — or was it Apollo to plant, and St. 
 Paul to water? Do tell me, Elspeth. I always get 
 the things wrong. Mr. Van Delden, couldn't you 
 translate for Miss Horatio, if she gave them a little 
 address? I am sure she could tell them what she 
 thinks Miss Scott or Mr. Tubbs would say. Hora- 
 tio is very clever. And dear Madame would not 
 mind, I am sure." 
 
 Van Delden's mind had not grasped this speech 
 at all, for which I think we may not blame him. 
 He did not quite know what an "address" was. 
 " All that Miss Bouverie would say would be nice," 
 he murmured vaguely. " But we do not * address ' 
 the natives. We leave them to their demon ideas. 
 They are a set of demons themselves! They are 
 a dangerous people, I would say. We give them 
 orders, that is all. And a row, if they don't obey. 
 That is better than to address." 
 
 "But they know no better! And their priests? 
 Could we not begin with them? Tell them demons 
 don't exist? And such silly, ugly demons! Could 
 we not begin with the hadjis?" 
 
 162 
 
The Dead Horse 
 
 " Oh, but I don't know about that!" Van Delden 
 said. " They are an infernal bad kind." He smiled 
 amiably as he spoke. The Scots engineer had used 
 that word often. 
 
 " I wouldn't tackle a hadji, if I were you, Miss 
 Lavender," Dick put in hastily. " But don't worry 
 yourself about what my Uncle Nathaniel would say 
 to them. Or anyone else. Let 'em be!" 
 
 " He will be so surprised if we make no effort to 
 reach them! It is leaving the heathen in his blind- 
 ness to bow down to wood and stone," Miss Laven- 
 der wailed. "And demons are worse! The idea 
 of a pasteboard demon! Can't we tell them how 
 foolish they are?" 
 
 " I don't think I would. It is exactly the 
 opinion they have of us!" 
 
 Miss Lavender blinked her eyes rapidly. "I was 
 wondering," she said, with a shiver, going off at a 
 tangent as usual, " if English people were to see 
 these women wading in sugar, how they would 
 ever take brown sugar with coffee or junket! I 
 shall not tell Miss Tibbits. She always said — " 
 
 But what Miss Tibbits always said was lost just 
 then, for, with a mighty resounding crash, a great 
 wheel revolving before them, suddenly cracked with 
 a yawning split from top to bottom, and then, 
 groaning as if in mortal pain, stood still. 
 
 In an instant the natives had rushed from every 
 
 163 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 side; Dick took Miss Lavender and Elspeth and 
 led them to the door, his face grim and set. 
 
 "What is it? Is it a dreadful accident?" the 
 girl whispered in his ear. 
 
 "Yes, but I don't know that it is an accident. 
 We must see, and if not, there may be a scene. 
 Will you walk back to the lodgie through that path 
 there by the pine-apples? Ah, here is Madame!" 
 
 " We will go back to tea," Madame said in her 
 musical voice, though Elspeth could see that the 
 delicate face was paler than ever; " I am so sorry 
 your visit has been spoiled. I fear the demons 
 were not quite exorcised. Miss Lavender!" 
 
 "Is it a very bad accident?" Miss Horatio en- 
 quired, looking after Dick. " Mr. Beresford looked 
 so stern. Was it a flaw in the wheel?" 
 
 " I do not know. I think not. The wheel only 
 came from Europe this season. But you must not 
 look so startled. Let us have tea, and later the 
 gentlemen will come in. I want to show you my 
 new Paris curtains." 
 
 They entered the beautifully cool veranda then, 
 great portieres of Eastern embroidery, thickly 
 crusted with gold, dividing the lofty dining-hall 
 from the inner house, and there the servants 
 presently carried in tea. Leon appeared with his 
 baboe. He had been riding with a native groom, 
 9, handsome aristocratic little boy. Nancy had left 
 
 164 
 
The Dead Horse 
 
 with her father only the day before, travelling in 
 an invalid carriage to the coast. 
 
 "I suppose the culprit will be detected," Miss 
 Horatio said in her most magisterial voice, as she 
 sipped her tea. " What dreadful villainy! And to 
 delay the whole milling! But surely, dear Madame, 
 if it was not an accident, it will be all detected and 
 the miscreant punished?" 
 
 " I hope so," Madame's voice was a little uneasy; 
 " but you know we are not sure, we scarcely 
 think they would dare." 
 
 "Mamma! Mamma!" 
 
 The little boy had wandered out to the garden 
 with his nurse ; he came rushing back now, flushed 
 and tearful, speaking in French. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, your horse ! Your beautiful horse ! " 
 
 " Come here, Leon. What of my horse?" 
 
 "He lies dead. Mother, in the stable. Samin 
 has just found him! Dead! Poisoned!" 
 
 Madame stood up as if petrified; the servants 
 fell back at her look, as a native groom, crouching 
 on the ground and salaaming low, appeared on the 
 steps, evidently in great perturbation. Elspeth 
 thought his face looked gray. 
 
 His mistress spoke to him rapidly and imperi- 
 ously, then motioned him away." 
 
 "Is it really dead?" Elspeth asked. "Your 
 beautiful horse!" 
 
 165 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " Yes. He found it this afternoon." 
 
 It was a relief to see the party from the mill 
 approaching, and Madame went to meet her hus- 
 band, putting up her hand to the others. " Please 
 say nothing till my husband has rested. L^on, 
 you will not speak to your father yet." 
 
 She had a smile for him and talked lightly to 
 them all, ringing for more tea. They did not 
 mention the wheel, nor the horse. And then Dick 
 and Van Delden took their party home. 
 
 In the garden, on the way back, Dick stood as 
 if shocked when Elspeth told him. "Her horse! 
 This is worse and worse. They are striking at 
 him now through her. She paid a large sum 
 for it." 
 
 "And the wheel?" 
 
 " It was as we feared. They had slipped in an 
 iron bolt with the cane. It would have broken 
 a wheel twice the strength of this one. Don't tell 
 Miss Lavender," he smiled down on her suddenly, 
 " I think their iniquities press down on her and 
 sadden her. She is the kind of little woman 
 people all shield. But you may tell Miss Horatio." 
 
 Elspeth did so, later, adding his thought for 
 Miss Lavender. 
 
 " That was kind of Dick," the elder sister said, 
 her face shadowing, "and it is true, we all keep 
 things from Lavender, small and great. I sometimes 
 
 166 
 
The Dead Horse 
 
 wonder if it is wise. But now it is too late to 
 do anything else." 
 
 Elspeth wondered a little. Something heavier 
 than the thought of the dead horse, or even Java- 
 nese iniquity, lay on Miss Horatio's mind. And 
 then the old lady relapsed into silence. They were 
 all rather quieter than usual. 
 
 " If things are going on like this I almost wish 
 they would go!" Dick said later, rather restlessly, 
 to his friend; but Van Delden shook his head ob- 
 stinately. 
 
 " It is a mere nothing! It is to be shut up. It 
 is only the Javanese life and interior that they 
 wished to see! I will not hear, Dick, that you say 
 a word to make them go. I do not allow it!" 
 
 " I am not aware that you are my boss, Her- 
 man," Dick remarked coolly then, striking a light. 
 " But I fancy Miss Horatio wants to stay on a bit. 
 Nevertheless I shall tell her plainly that things 
 look ugly. We don't want a rising, nor more 
 poisoning!" 
 
 "And I shall tell her that it is naught, naught! 
 And to me she will listen. I know the country 
 superior to you. Isn't it?" 
 
 Dick said nothing ; his friend was growing angry. 
 
 " I could not think of life without her," Van 
 Delden said then in a lower voice, " and the time 
 is not ripe to speak. Give me a chance, Dick. 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 For God's sake don't drive them away. She would 
 go to England, I would see her never again, and 
 life would be all desolate!" He laid his hand on 
 his friend's broad shoulder, his pleasant face grave, 
 almost terror-stricken. Dick did not look up, and 
 his shoulders were bowed. 
 
 " Promise to give me my chance, not to inter- 
 fere." 
 
 " I'll not interfere," the other said. " You shall 
 have your chance, as long as there's no danger." 
 
 Van Delden raised himself, recovering his good- 
 humour, and he went oflf whistling to bed. " Thank 
 you, my friend," he said; "you are the good chum. 
 Isn't it?" 
 
 Dick sat still for a little and then went out to 
 the steps, looking over at the mill, his eyebrows 
 meeting. 
 
 " She would go back to England," he repeated 
 dully, " and I would never see her again. And 
 life would be desolate! It is true, Van Delden, it 
 is true for me too!" 
 
 168. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 "A Reed which Grows never more 
 again " 
 
 Things at the mill were in abeyance. The accident 
 would cause a cessation of work for at least four- 
 teen days. The great wheel had to be replaced. 
 At the earliest it could only be ready in a fort- 
 night. 
 
 And though a searching enquiry had been made, 
 and relays of natives summoned and questioned, 
 no faintest ray of light as to the culprit had been 
 elicited. The death of the horse, too — a favourite 
 mare of Madame's, purchased for a large sum 
 from Australia — was equally mysterious. The 
 administrator went about harassed and anxious, 
 stern and unapproachable. Europeans and natives 
 alike dreaded a summons to the office, and Madame 
 rarely left his side. 
 
 She had grown very confidential with Elspeth; 
 there was not, after all, much difierence in their 
 ages, and she used to tell the English girl a good 
 deal. It was a relief, she said, to speak to some- 
 one. 
 
 169 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " We were so anxious to have this a good 
 season," she said. " Sugar is paying so badly, 
 and now this means days of delay, and the loss 
 of at least fifteen hundred guilders. And, I don't 
 know why, I am always full of dread. They 
 manage always to be revenged. And they think 
 themselves aggrieved. My husband dismissed ten 
 more men yesterday, people he suspected of being 
 implicated. He is so brave, he fears nothing. 
 But — I — I am only a woman. I fear!" 
 
 " So should I — in your place," Elspeth agreed. 
 " Though I must say I admire Monsieur's spirit. 
 He must find the culprits. You are brave too, 
 Madame." 
 
 "Yes — of things I can see; but there is so much 
 here that is intangible. I feel as if I — as if I were 
 hourly expecting a stab in the back." 
 
 She looked round her with a shiver as she spoke, 
 and Elspeth tried to reassure her. " You have been 
 too long in the East," the girl said. "When we go, 
 you must come back to Bouverie and pay a visit 
 to Miss Horatio. She would love to have you." 
 At which the other only smiled rather sadly. 
 
 " I wonder what she really fears!" Elspeth was 
 thinking, late that afternoon as she walked down 
 the shady road towards the place where the market 
 had been held, leaving the old ladies still asleep. 
 " Things do seem to have quietened down, though 
 
 170 
 
" A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 Dick still looks rather grave. Van Delden says 
 everytliing is ' alright ' ; but this is the way he 
 always talks. He believes in things always being 
 ' alright ', or at least in telling women so. I don't 
 like to be treated like a child and given sugar- 
 plums. Some invariably optimistic people are 
 almost provoking. When men behave like that 
 it is a sure sign that they don't think you are on 
 the same intellectual level with themselves. And 
 even if one isn't, one doesn't like them to think 
 so. I wonder if the whole thing has blown over! 
 I seem to fancy I have been here before. Yes, 
 it was the day I drove back with Madame from 
 the market. What a strange, deserted place! 
 How brown and thick the river looks through the 
 trees!" 
 
 She stood looking before her at the little desolate 
 native house, and then, attracted by a great hedge 
 of gardenias growing on one side of the sluggish 
 stream, she advanced and began to gather the 
 white perfumed blossoms. She was stooping down 
 behind it, thinking only of the flowers, when, to 
 her amazement, she heard an English voice — 
 it sounded quite close at hand — beneath her on 
 the banks. It was repeating to itself slowly and 
 mournfully, with a long hopeless sigh: 
 
 " A reed which grows never more again 
 As a reed with the reeds on the river ". 
 
 171 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 What was this? 
 
 She stood as if transfixed. A man's voice! 
 "Was it Dick? He was the only Englishman here. 
 But he- 
 She stood looking about her as if bewildered, 
 then walked to the top of the bank. As she did 
 so, the figure of a man raised itself — he had been 
 apparently seated with his head hanging down, 
 and he looked up at her with a quick start — a 
 look of fear which changed into perplexed amaze- 
 ment when he saw her. 
 
 It was the tall native who had saved her life. 
 
 She stood looking at him, her lips apart, her 
 whole expression one of amazement, her eyes 
 wandering over the sarong, the loose white jacket, 
 the bare feet — not quite like native feet, dark 
 though they were, — the strong supple hands — well- 
 cared-for hands, — finely-shaped nails. 
 
 Then her perplexity found words in one half- 
 gasping sentence. " You — you are English ! You 
 speak English!" 
 
 He laughed, shortly and bitterly: "Am I 
 English? In this dress?" 
 
 " Someone told me a story of you," Elspeth 
 said slowly; "that you went to pay the native's 
 tax to the Dutch Resident, but would not crouch 
 or salaam, and they said, if you would not, you 
 must pay the European's tax, and you came back 
 
 172 
 
" A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 and flung it at their feet. Do not tell me! I 
 know you are English. You betrayed yourself 
 then. I did not see it till now." 
 
 She had flashed out the last words suddenly, 
 almost indignantly. To be English! And to 
 descend to this! To fling his birthright away 
 and take — this! 
 
 " Well," he said slowly and with intense bitter- 
 ness, " and suppose I am? Suppose I choose to 
 bury my nationality, and my pride, and my birth- 
 right? What is that to you? Do you want to 
 betray me?" 
 
 " I did not mean that. You saved my life. Only 
 somehow it seemed so dreadful. To be English 
 and to live like a native, to wear that dress." 
 
 " A citizen of no mean city," he quoted bitterly. 
 " You are quite right. But does it not strike 
 you that people don't do this kind of thing for 
 nothing. They don't sink England and their race 
 for nothing. Kitchener, they say, disguised him- 
 self like an Arab, and lived among Arabs, for 
 political reasons; so did Burton for the sake of 
 scientific research; others there might be who 
 would do it for guilty reasons. I don't interfere 
 in Javanese politics, and I don't naturalize. I'm 
 not scientific. There is only one thing left. 
 Guilt! A disguise! I am safe here." He pointed 
 scornfully to the muddy river, to the low bamboo 
 
 173 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 hut. " No one troubles about Redjo, the Javanese. 
 Yes, I thought that would startle you. But you 
 brought it on yourself." 
 
 Elspeth was looking at him long and earnestly. 
 " It does not startle me," she said. " Why should 
 I be afraid? How could I have any feeling but 
 gratitude towards the man who saved my life?" 
 
 " Did I do that." A faint softening crossed his 
 face. " The snake did look as if it meant to 
 sting. Well, I am glad you were not frightened. 
 You won't betray me? I don't want to be driven 
 away from here, miserable home though it looks. 
 It is a kind of shelter, a kind of home. Promise 
 not to betray me. In return, let us say, for the 
 snake." 
 
 She spoke at once, holding out her hand: "I 
 promise." 
 
 He looked at the little hand, oddly, then at his 
 own. 
 
 " English ladies do not shake hands with 
 natives," he said slowly then. " Keep me in the 
 place I chose. It was only the grovelling in the 
 dirt and the salaaming I could not swallow. Even 
 Madame — she knows I'm no Javanese — has never 
 offered me her hand." 
 
 " I am your countrywoman," Elspeth said. 
 
 There was a silence then. " Perhaps you had 
 better go now," he said. " The dusk will be 
 
 174 
 
" A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 here soon, and it is better not to be out too late 
 just now. Things at the mill are not quite right, 
 and it would not do for you to be seen talking 
 to me. You got into trouble already, and were 
 hurt, I heard. The Black Hand. Hush! Some- 
 one is coming!" 
 
 It was his wife, carrying the child. The boy 
 clapped his hands when he saw his father, and 
 rushed up. The woman unfastened her scarf 
 and waited patiently by the house. She did not 
 offer to approach. Elspeth looked at the child 
 for a moment, then said " Farewell " in Malay, 
 and turned away. As she did so a low voice 
 behind her spoke in English: " I will walk behind 
 you," Eedjo said, " to your own gate. But take no 
 notice of me. Only walk straight on." He lifted 
 the boy as he spoke. 
 
 She went out, strangely bewildered, and the tall 
 figure paced behind her till Van Delden's gate was 
 reached. When she looked back &om the veranda 
 Eedjo had gone, the child gazing gravely and ten- 
 derly in his face. 
 
 Elspeth was haunted all night by the story. An 
 Englishman who quoted poetry, but who lived a 
 native's life, in a native hut, with a native wife! 
 
 "He looks as if he had suffered — horribly!" the 
 girl said to herself. " Of what has he been guilty? 
 Whatever it may have been, he has surely washed 
 
 175 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 his sin out with tears! And the tears have washed 
 away the stain ! Surely his tears have washed away 
 the stain!" 
 
 " No, there is no name I recognize here, Dick," 
 Miss Horatio said disappointedly that night after 
 dinner. " It was very kind of them to copy all 
 those — but it — isn't there ! I suppose I was foolish 
 to expect success at once." 
 
 " You see they don't know if this is complete," 
 Dick said. " And of course your friend may have 
 left— or died!" 
 
 She turned very pale at that. "Could I find 
 out the names of the English who had died here 
 within the last twenty years?" 
 
 " I should think so. I'll write and ask." 
 
 " Oh, I hope — it isn't that!" she said then, in a 
 changed voice, which had fallen rather low. " To 
 have come all this way, and never to give my 
 message! And — I can't bear the thought of the 
 cemeteries here, Dick! Out in the hot, hot sun! 
 With these dreadful staring monuments, and bead 
 wreaths! I couldn't bear to think he lay there 
 — unknown — neglected — in that dreadful white 
 glare — " 
 
 She broke off, her lips tremulous. Dick looked 
 at her in amazement, wondering of whom she spoke. 
 In the distance Van Delden was teaching Miss 
 
 176 
 
" A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 Lavender and Elspeth Malay; Beresford had been, 
 as usual, detained by the elder lady. 
 
 " Though, of course, I know it doesn't matter," 
 she said huskily. " And if he is dead, he is at 
 rest! In that case we would just go home, thank- 
 ing you very much for all your kind hospitality. 
 Only I should have failed — should have failed!" 
 
 " But we won't talk of that yet," Beresford said. 
 " You have got to see the famous temples at Bbra 
 Bo^dor, and the Water Palace, and perhaps the 
 great Sea of Sand. And Miss Lavender wants to 
 meet a tiger. Don't you, Miss Lavender? You 
 can't go till we have managed the tigers!" 
 
 He went over to the table then, and Miss Laven- 
 der lifted her mild blue eyes. Miss Horatio sat, 
 hearing nothing, her eyes far away. 
 
 "A tiger, Dick? Well, at a very safe distance! 
 I did think — it would be as well to have seen them. 
 You see it will be the very first question Miss 
 Tibbits will ask. Did I see a tiger? Elspeth, my 
 dear, you know she will!" 
 
 "Yes, I know! And we shall have to say No. 
 We shall be regarded as flat failures. Can't you 
 take us, Mr. Beresford? Put us up a tree, as they 
 do in India, and then tie a sheep, or is it a 
 goat — " 
 
 "Elspeth! I would not hear of it! The poor 
 innocent goat! I don't care about it. Indeed, if 
 
 (Eso) 177 M 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 it came to the point, I know I should be most 
 horribly frightened! Besides, I could not climb a 
 tree. At my age it would be ridiculous. What 
 kind of a tree would it be?" She was quite per- 
 turbed, poor lady, quite anxious and flurried. And 
 yet she did hanker after the tiger. 
 
 " One of these cocoa-nut palms," Elspeth said 
 wickedly. "But we could use a ladder; besides 
 there are notches. I saw a native climb one the 
 other day, and throw down the cocoa-nuts, which 
 he chopped off with a hatchet. Can't you take us 
 a tiger-hunt, Mr. Beresford? Really? I don't 
 want to disappoint Drelinford, and they expect 
 tigers from us!" 
 
 " I'm afraid not," he said, seating himself by her 
 side. " Though there's a place, thirty miles on the 
 other side of Samarang, where they are pretty bad. 
 They don't go about the hunt here as they do in 
 India. And the tigers are cowardly brutes; they 
 only creep up and snick a native when no one is 
 looking, that's all ; at other times they skulk in the 
 jungle. They're a cowardly lot!" 
 
 " Well, from the tiger's point of view — " 
 
 "And we might be 'snicked'!" Miss Lavender 
 gasped. "I won't hear of your going, Elspeth! 
 No, we can just tell Miss Tibbits that it wasn't 
 fashionable in Java for ladies to do anything of the 
 kind. And that we didn't fancy it." 
 
 178 
 
** A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 "Do you mean being 'snicked', dear Miss La- 
 vender?" 
 
 " Well, yes, or to go out after them. I have 
 got a good many stories of Mr. Van Delden's 
 written down for her, and they are quite thrilling 
 enough. They are so exciting! One really feels 
 as if one had come through them all;" and Miss 
 Lavender beamed happily upon them once more. 
 "He tells stories so very well! I wish I could 
 write as well as he told me. And such hair-breadth 
 escapes! Such awful experiences!" 
 
 Van Delden bowed with an air of fine modesty. 
 
 "In Van Delden's stories one never knows where 
 romance begins and truth leaves ofi"," Dick said 
 maliciously. " I believed all he told me at first, 
 and I used to say to the other men in the mUl I'd 
 tell them one of Van Delden's stories. They said 
 he was the greatest li — the greatest raconteur in 
 Java. Did he ever tell you his story about the 
 Java mosquitoes. Miss Lavender?" Miss Lavender 
 shook her head, deeply interested. 
 
 " He was tremendously bothered with them one 
 day, a specially nasty brand they were, it seems; 
 and, last of all, to escape their awful bites, he crept 
 into a boiler he had been repairing for the mUl. 
 But they followed him there, stung him through 
 the iron! Awful brutes they must have been. Van 
 Delden isn't easUy beaten, so he took his riveting 
 
 179 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 hammer and riveted each proboscis as it came 
 through. But that didn't checkmate the Java 
 mosquito, didn't rivet their attention enough, so to 
 say. And being so large and strong, a rivet or 
 two were nothing to them ! Finally, so many came 
 that they flew off with the boiler, Van Delden 
 inside! He was surprised then, or so he says!" 
 
 Miss Lavender stared aghast, her hands upraised. 
 
 Van Delden was showing Elspeth the Malay 
 spelling of a certain word, and had not apparently 
 heard this moving narrative. But Miss Lavender's 
 lips and eyes were alike widely open. 
 
 " You don't mean to say they really were as big 
 as that?" she gasped. "Through an iron boiler! 
 Dear, dear! I suppose, then, we have only a 
 mild small variety here, though I think they are 
 bad enough, and most annoying and irritating! 
 But — where did they let him fall, Dick?" 
 
 Dick went out into the veranda at this innocent 
 query, murmuring, " He thought the baas wanted 
 him," and Van Delden looked up suspiciously. 
 He could see Dick stamping and shaking outside. 
 
 " Our friend is mad, quite mad!" the Dutchman 
 said then placidly. " He stands and stamps at the 
 gate! He laughs at his own wit! What was he 
 saying to you, dear Miss Lavender? Of what does 
 he recount? It is not a la mode to laugh so at 
 one's joke." 
 
 180 
 
" A Reed which Grows never more " 
 
 " It was one of your stories, Mr. Van Delden," 
 Miss Lavender said innocently. " I am writing it 
 down for Miss Tibbits before I forget it. It is the 
 one about tbe mosquitoes biting you till you took 
 refuge in a boiler, and something about hammering 
 their — what was it? I didn't know they had — 
 that kind of thing. Dear me ! What is the matter 
 with him now?" 
 
 " He is apparently — suflFering emotion," Elspeth 
 said, not quite gathering the story; and then she 
 went to the steps and looked at them both severely. 
 " Gentlemen, we are surprised at you! And if you 
 do not return to the veranda immediately, and 
 tell us the story, we leave for Djocya to-morrow! 
 Miss Lavender and I enjoy a joke." 
 
 They returned, guiltily and hastily. 
 
 " But for the sake of mercy," Van Delden 
 whispered to Dick, "get her to put away that 
 note-book, and to write it not to the Tabbats lady, 
 or are we both undone and all confounded, and 
 I am written down an ass, and an ass who lies!" 
 
 But Elspeth was shown the notes that night, 
 and hid her face on her pillows, speechless. 
 
 181 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Madame's Trust 
 
 The mystery of the Englishman in native dress 
 haunted and perplexed Elspeth; moreover, life 
 ran on so monotonously that there was more 
 than sufficient time for thought. After she had 
 written to Walter and her father a weekly budget, 
 and read and re-read theirs till she almost knew 
 them by heart, time hung a little heavy on her 
 hands. For the men were too busy at the mill 
 to talk again of any excursions — even the Bbra 
 Bofedor one had been put off for a little — and 
 Madame seemed occupied and worried. 
 
 Elspeth had thrown down her Tauchnitz novel 
 one hot afternoon, and now stood meditatively in 
 the veranda gazing before her. It was not de 
 rigueur in these parts to go out in the heat of the 
 afternoon, but she found if she waited for the good 
 ladies to be ready, after their afternoon sleep and 
 bath, that the stride of the dark was upon them 
 before she knew. So she was wont to stray out by 
 herself, and the natives had grown accustomed to 
 
 182 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 see the tall white figure of the " nonjah Engerese" 
 on the roads or down by the river. A Javanese 
 funeral was passing now, so she waited, thinking, 
 with the pathetic inability of youth to grasp the 
 great inexorable change, how impossible it seemed 
 to realize death here. There was the usual pro- 
 cession of white-robed and veiled figures — the bier 
 with its covering of crimson flowers and greenery, 
 a huge Javanese umbrella of crimson and gold care- 
 fully held above. 
 
 " Thou shalt fear no more the heat of the sun," 
 the girl murmured to herself " Poor dead people! 
 ' The sun shall not smite thee by day.' I think 
 one needs to have been in the East to understand 
 the comfort of these words. Also the ' Shadow 
 of a great Rock in a weary land'. And yet — they 
 do not sufier! It is the living who suffer. That 
 makes me think of Amice's face in the Red Sea — 
 and of that strange man's here. I wonder who he 
 is? Suffering is writ in such large letters on his 
 face — and was on hers. I should like to see him 
 again. I should like to help him. I think I shall 
 go down by the river and past his house." 
 
 She turned and took her shady Liberty hat, with 
 its scarf of cool pale-green gauze, and her big sun- 
 umbrella, and then she was out under the mighty 
 shadow of the tamarind - trees. She had grown 
 accustomed now to the swift noiseless tread of the 
 
 183 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 dark crowd of figures all around her, the creaking 
 groan of the bullock- wagons, the patient, mild faces 
 of the oxen ; it was a silent crowd, and they scarcely 
 glanced at her. 
 
 " I can't believe these people are wicked and 
 revengeful," the girl said to herself, scanning a face 
 here and there. "And, after all, I suppose it is 
 only the work of a few malcontents and fanatics. 
 Dick says they are naturally a gentle and amiable 
 race, if the hadjis would leave them alone." 
 
 Down in the river small boys were driving a 
 herd of the big ugly native buflfaloes for their bath 
 — a great ceremony, and one accompanied by many 
 pranks and tricks. Elspeth watched, and laughed 
 for a little, and then went on till she reached the 
 branching side-roads, and the one in which stood 
 the solitary little hut. There, by a clump of dusty 
 bamboos, she could see a man's figure — he seemed 
 to be bending over something in his hand, — and she 
 recognized the Englishman. Behind him was the 
 house, and two majestic cocoa-nut palms, the sharp 
 fretted leaves silhouetted against the white-blue 
 shimmer of heat which dazzled around. 
 
 Elspeth walked in, wondering if he would resent 
 her presence, and yet full of burning curiosity ; and 
 presently he looked up and saw her. 
 
 He stood waiting till she approached, his eyes 
 meeting hers with a kind of challenge — almost, she 
 
 184 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 fancied, a dawning anger. Then he spoke abruptly : 
 " Have you come here to tell me you have betrayed 
 me?" 
 
 The words — the look — struck her in the face, 
 and she crimsoned as if from a blow. 
 
 "No! I gave you — an Englishwoman's word 
 that I would not. That used to be thought fairly 
 trustworthy." 
 
 " Then why have you come?" 
 
 " I came — I was thinking how sorry I felt for 
 you — I was wondering if — in any way I could not 
 help you." 
 
 "Help me?" 
 
 He seemed to look at her as if bewildered for 
 a moment, and then he laughed. " I suppose that 
 is true. You have a kind face, as well as a — 
 beautiful one. And I dare say you were curious. 
 No, I don't blame you. After all, as I dare say 
 you guessed, it is a strange pleasure to hear your 
 voice. I heard you speaking one night from the 
 road, and I crept up along the side of the veranda. 
 I heard Mr. Beresford had English relatives with 
 him, aunts and a cousin. You were singing a Scots 
 song about someone being 'Just aye awa". You 
 are too young to realize the tragedy these words 
 epitomize. Do you know what day this is?" 
 
 She looked up vaguely. "November, surely. 
 I forget the dates; for it is all summer here 
 
 185 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 — one long burning summer! In the East it is 
 surely never November!" 
 
 " Ah! you are weary, already, for the mists and 
 the winds — the grays of the little green sheltered 
 island. Ah well, you will go back soon! Yes, 
 it is November. It is the first. It is All Souls' 
 Day! I suppose you forget your church festivities 
 — leave them behind in the Canal, perhaps. God 
 knows, I forget most of them too ! But I remember 
 this, and it has haunted me all day. I suppose 
 you are too young to have a Day of the Dead!" 
 He turned and looked at her. 
 
 Elspeth shivered at his dreary tone — here, in 
 the perfume and the warmth, she felt suddenly 
 alone and cold. The touch of the future chilled 
 her. For her, too, would come a day of the dead 
 — a day when the warm, loving faces she loved 
 would walk by her side phantom-like, as they 
 walked by this strange man to-day. For Death 
 walks beside us in life, a vague intangible shadow. 
 Death haunts life — even for the young. 
 
 "All I love best are living, thank God!" she 
 said. " But my father, more than any man I know 
 in this world, seems to understand the sorrow of 
 life, just as he battles always with its disease and 
 suffering, and he has taught me a little how to 
 sympathize!" 
 
 " Yes, I can see that. I heard it in your voice," 
 
 186 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 He looked away at the muddy river and on to 
 the expanse of the terraced rice -fields beyond. 
 
 "I feel haunted to-day — haunted!" burst from 
 him again. " I never speak, of course, of these 
 things to anyone. I speak only Malay and Javanese 
 — even Madame has rarely spoken English to me, 
 though she guesses my secret. She heard me 
 raving once in a fever. But to hear you speak, 
 and see you, it is like opening the flood-gates! 
 My mother died — died to-day! I saw her dead — 
 first, to-day!" 
 
 There was agony in his voice beyond words. He 
 suddenly threw up his hands and shook them in 
 the air. "Girl! if I were to tell you the story, 
 you would shrink away, and I should never see you 
 any more. Do you know what I am? Do you 
 know whose blood I have on these hands? Whose 
 blood, do you hear?" 
 
 "Blood?" the girl gasped. "But you do not 
 mean — you could not — ^mean her." 
 
 " No, not her, never her." He looked away with 
 a pitiful sound. "You are right; never her. She 
 was the only being I loved on earth. I hated 
 my father; I hated my sister — a cold, sneering 
 woman, self-righteous and holy; and I had taken 
 to drink. You don't know what that means. Day 
 by day, week by week, I was breaking her heart. 
 But the devil was within me — the craving, the 
 
 187, 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 weakness; after, I heard it was in her family. I 
 came on her side from a race of drunkards. That 
 isn't fair, is it, to maim and cripple a man at the 
 outset? The Almighty doesn't deal fairly by some 
 of us! You people with strong, clean, untainted 
 blood, how dare you sit in judgment on us? Put 
 the madness and the longing in your blood, give 
 you a man's temptations, throw you out into the 
 world—" 
 
 He broke off. Elspeth was listening, with wide 
 eyes of wonder and pain; but there was no shrink- 
 ing, no repulsion in her face. His wondering gaze 
 met hers, and seemed to hesitate and wait. 
 
 " But if God knows of the battle — that you were 
 handicapped before you started," she said, " He will 
 make allowance for that. If the parents have eaten 
 sour grapes, He knows." 
 
 "You believe in those things, then — not as 
 shibboleth, but as truth?" 
 
 " Yes," Elspeth said, " I do." 
 
 He drew his breath in. "Happy people do, 
 usually, and sheltered women. Men are different. 
 They know life. You don't find many of them, 
 out of the pulpit, talking like that. In the pulpit 
 it's their trade-mark." 
 
 "My father is a man who believes in a kind 
 God — in what Stevenson called ' the unseen Helms- 
 man at the wheel '." 
 
 188 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 " Is he a successful man — a churcli deacon, what 
 do they call them? a pillar of the Establishment?" 
 
 " No. He is a man who knows a great deal of 
 sorrow and suffering." 
 
 "Yes, not sin. But keep your belief. Keep in 
 the shelter and on the sunny side of life, and it 
 will last you, I dare say. For myself, I like to 
 hear what the verdict is of the man or woman who 
 has suffered — and sinned, — who has been in the 
 thick of the fight, not unscathed, but wounded, 
 bleeding, scarred. A man like St. Paul. That was 
 a man!" 
 
 It was an odd conversation. Two strangers, 
 "ships that pass in the night", they had gone 
 suddenly out of the smooth waters of convention 
 to the wide sea of Truth, asking each other the 
 great primal questions that are, after all, the 
 tragedy of life and its key-note. Is there anything 
 beyond and above our life? We, the victims of a 
 meaningless chaos, a blind, unreasoning Juggernaut, 
 a god of chance, a hard, purposeless fate; or is it 
 only the school-time, the lesson -time, which the 
 King will explain, if we care for explanation, and 
 are not sufiiciently content that it was all His way 
 home — the one way back which we will all of us 
 find? 
 
 " And it was St. Paul who said that nothing can 
 separate us — nothing." Her clear voice trembled. 
 
 189 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " He was scarred, maimed, bleeding. And that was 
 his testimony, left for all the ages! That nothing 
 will keep us from Love, from Christ — not life, not 
 death, not sin!" 
 
 He seemed to listen. "Ay, but even he — 
 what is that on your neck?" 
 
 Elspeth put up her hand, half-startled. It was 
 the little cross Amice had given her. 
 
 " A lady gave it to me on board," she began. " I 
 had met her for the first time, and she — who is 
 this? It is Madame." 
 
 She turned round, having heard a sudden step 
 at the gate, the soft, sliding step of Madame's loose- 
 heeled sandals. The Dutch lady stood as if bewil- 
 dered, then moved towards them. She came across 
 to them both, rapidly, her beautiful face paler than 
 ever, her soft, dark eyes staring, transfixed. She 
 seemed too much absorbed to notice Elspeth's being 
 there, or to wonder at it. She went straight up to 
 the Englishman and stood before him. 
 
 " Eedjo, I have lost — L6on." 
 
 "Lost him? How?" 
 
 " I had a new baboe; she is the sister of Pa-Eeis. 
 I have only just heard it. After his bath I waited 
 for him. He never came, and I rang. They tell 
 me he has not slept — that after ryst-tafel she took 
 him away. They have scoured the place. She has 
 taken him — I feel it. She will hide him from me, 
 
 190 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 or kill him! And — they will never find him — 
 never! They will all aid her, you know." 
 
 " What do you wish me to do?" 
 
 He spoke in the stern, imperative voice — the 
 voice of the man who acts, and acts at once. 
 
 " You can go where no European can," she 
 whispered. " A great many of them only think 
 you are from another part of Java. I believe she 
 has gone up the Slamat. Your wife could perhaps 
 help you. Bring him back to me. I saved your 
 chUd; you said so. Save mine; bring him back 
 to me!" 
 
 Her voice had broken at last. She hid her face 
 and sobbed. Elspeth, putting an arm round her 
 friend's waist, looked back at him. 
 
 "You will go?" she said to Redjo. 
 
 " Yes. I know of this woman. I will start at 
 once. It would be well to overtake her before she 
 begins the ascent. Have you any money, Madame? 
 I have only a few guilders." 
 
 It was strange how his tone had changed. The 
 bitterness was gone — the humble servility of the 
 native; he was the Englishman, back in his proper 
 place, called upon for a man's courage, a man's 
 endurance. 
 
 She put out her hand and placed some silver in 
 his. " I will take it," he said. " I may be gone 
 some time, and I may have to hire, and perhaps 
 
 191 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 bribe. Don't wonder if I am gone some time. The 
 Slamat is a big word; and they will lie to me too, 
 if they suspect me in the least. I may have to 
 wait the ehance. I do not think they will kill 
 him. They are too fond of children. You had 
 better not be seen talking to me now. Please go." 
 
 The twilight had fallen while Elspeth and he 
 talked. It was now almost dark, a little faint 
 breeze rippled the muddy water and rustled in the 
 bamboos. Prayer-time was over, and the natives 
 were taking their mats from the river-side. 
 
 The two women turned away instinctively, and 
 Redjo moved into the hut without a word. 
 
 At the gate Madame stopped as if bewildered. 
 " I never thanked him," she said. " I see you have 
 found out his secret. I wish I could thank him." 
 
 "Thank him when he comes back," Elspeth said. 
 
 " My dear, oh, will he come back? My husband 
 has telegraphed to Samarang. He says he will 
 scour the country, but I have more trust in this 
 one man. But oh, will he come back? It is 
 dangerous!" 
 
 " Englishmen have a knack of coming back," 
 Elspeth said, smiling. " Let me add that little 
 brick of national vanity to our already colossal 
 pile." 
 
 The other did not seem to hear. She stood still 
 in the dark road and wrung her hands. "My 
 
 192 
 
Madame's Trust 
 
 husband had sent this woman's son to prison for 
 theft, and he died there of cholera. "We heard this 
 to-day. And she vowed vengeance on me. Oh, 
 Elspeth, what shall I do? My boy! my boy!" 
 
 " Come home," the other said. " Let us go and 
 tell Mr. Beresford. Does your husband know you 
 are here? Does he know anything — anything 
 about Eedjo?" 
 
 "Oh no, I promised never to betray him! I 
 fear he hides from your English law. My husband 
 would say I was mad to trust him, a criminal, a 
 disguised man flying from his country. He works 
 out in the bebit ground. My husband never saw 
 him." 
 
 " And yet we do trust him, both of us," the girl 
 said. They had reached the lodgie gate, and they 
 turned in. The house was still in wild confusion, 
 but there was no word of the child. Madame sank 
 down pale and faint, and Elspeth rang for tea and 
 restoratives. She stayed there all night. 
 
 Eedjo emerged from the hut a few minutes after 
 the two women had left, a parcel rolled in an old 
 sarong in his hand. He stood a moment looking 
 down the road anxiously before he moved. 
 
 " I must leave her a message. Old Wongso 
 would tell her, and I could trust him. After all it 
 may not be for long. But if I do find him she had 
 
 (B80) 193 N 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 better meet me elsewhere. We could not stay 
 here, or they would kris or poison me. I wish 
 they could have come, I wish I could have taken 
 the boy, but it would have made it ten times more 
 difficult. Time I was oflF. I might track her at 
 Serajo. I wish I could have kissed the boy." 
 
 He looked down the road, his eyes yearning, 
 anxious, restless, then he seemed to brace his 
 shoulders. "She is right! She saved the lad! 
 I'll bring him back if he is there!" 
 
 He lit a native cigarette and went off down the 
 road. Very soon he was lost to view, turning to- 
 wards the base of the Slamat, a tall, resolute figure, 
 with a step that had in it something now of 
 courage and of resolution, almost the spring of 
 hope. 
 
 194 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 Tracking Rascila 
 
 On the road to Serajo the rice harvest was in 
 progress, and Eedjo passed many a gay sarong 
 floating in the breeze in token that it had begun. 
 He walked along slowly, his eyes wandering over 
 the slow methodical harvesters cutting each ear 
 with deliberate patience. On the other side were 
 cane-fields melting into the blue distance, mingled 
 with coflfee, tapioca, and tobacco. 
 
 There was a strange awakened expression in 
 his face. Its gloomy mask was gone, and in the 
 place of that was a look of resolution, of strength, 
 and determination. 
 
 Why had she come to him ? She had trusted him. 
 And this English girl to whom he had confessed so 
 much. What would they say to each other? 
 
 Would the girl — ? No, she had promised, and 
 an Englishwoman's word, she had proudly said, was 
 as good as her bond. 
 
 He had seen old Wongso, and sent a message 
 to his wife; that was all right. Now he must 
 
 195 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 think how he should proceed, and where he 
 should make the first enquiry about the baboe, 
 Eascila. He knew of her, and knew her for a 
 dangerous woman. She had been an acquaintance 
 of his wife's, but his wife was a gentle little thing, 
 and had rather feared Eascila. She was clever, 
 too, and had saved money. She had never for- 
 given the imprisonment and death of her son, 
 and she was the sister of Pa-Reis. 
 
 " The son was a bad lot too," Eedjo thought. 
 " They are a bad lot all three. Still, I did not 
 think she would dare so much as this. For now 
 she has banished herself. Even if she succeeds in 
 hiding the boy she will never dare return." 
 
 He had ascended the Slamat before, and he 
 knew the path well. As a rule the Javanese 
 from the lower districts avoided the great volcano. 
 It was a holy mountain — vaguely and terribly 
 powerful. The few Dutchmen who had climbed 
 as far as the great crater had been obliged to 
 bribe their porters very heavily. The people who 
 lived on the slopes, and far up on the plateau, 
 were a wild savage race who had little dealing 
 with the others. They tended the coffee and the 
 bibit (seed-cane), descending half-way to the pas- 
 sang grahan (or d^k bungalow) to be paid by 
 the Dutch official who made a periodical visit for 
 the purpose. 
 
 196 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 Eedjo had been here looking for orchids when he 
 first came to Java. He had an idea of the place 
 to which she would most likely go. There was 
 a certain wild and desolate vUlage near the " Lost 
 Waterfall", about five thousand feet from the top. 
 There, he fancied, he might find track of her. It 
 was true he could go where no European would 
 dare venture. The natives would talk before him 
 openly, and they would be sure to talk of RascUa 
 and the child. It was a dangerous project, of 
 course, but the danger of this was a zest, a spur, 
 a tonic. 
 
 The vegetation altered almost immediately when 
 he began to climb. The irregular lines of the 
 bamboo and the clear-cut leaves of the cocoa-nut 
 were gone, and in their place were huge tree-ferns, 
 and wild bananas, sugar-palms, from which the 
 fruit hung in long clusters of what looked like 
 knotted rope, wild sugar-cane, and great bushes 
 of enormous crimson blossoms. Here also were 
 lavender-hued flowers, soft and dewy, with rich, 
 lush, green leaves, and orchids clothed every tree, 
 though scarcely yet in bloom; only here and there 
 a magic and beautiful blossom. It was all very 
 difierent from the dry baked plains below. Eedjo 
 thought of the ground near his own hut, parched, 
 and cracked, and yawning thirstily. He paused 
 after a long climb, looking down at last and think- 
 
 197 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 ing deeply. The path, was still good, and was 
 lined by a species of brown-leaved bush, in colour 
 like a copper-beech; under this, and through all 
 the tangled undergrowth, there spread thickly a 
 vivid crimson plant, which seemed a peculiarity of 
 the mountain. Eedjo looked away from this at 
 once. It was too much like blood, too much like 
 the dream of a tortured brain, like the dream of a 
 man who had shed blood. He skirted the passang 
 grahan, by and by, a roughly-built house of bam- 
 boo and palm leaf, and, going round to the back, 
 greeted the "mandoer", or care-taker, a tall, dig- 
 nified native, who had lived below for some years. 
 This man greeted him politely; he was quite glad 
 to hear the news of the mill, and of the lower 
 world. He had heard of the broken wheel, and 
 deplored it deeply. A white man, he said, had 
 been here but lately, and had brought with him a 
 Dutch lady, the nonjah. They had come to see 
 about the coffee. They had enjoyed good times, 
 but the nonjah had found it cold at nights. They 
 had made pictures of him and his wife; had shot 
 at him with a strange weapon, and so transported 
 their pictures to paper. It was one of the white 
 man's mad and magic ways. Eedjo perhaps had 
 heard of it. 
 
 Would Eedjo smoke? 
 
 Eedjo, in his turn, gave the man all the news he 
 
 198 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 could think of, and tlie family gathered round and 
 listened witli great interest. They pressed food 
 upon him, and when dusk fell he was stUl chatting. 
 But he had learned nothing. He thought it likely 
 that if Rascila had come this way with the child, 
 she would have stayed here. She could not have 
 reached the village he thought of in one night, 
 but, unless she had been prepared to bribe heavily, 
 she would scarcely have ventured to the passang 
 grahan. And yet he was not very sure of the 
 mandoer. And it struck him that a sarong of 
 unusual colour and texture adorned the wife. A 
 Javanese will do a great deal for a new sarong. 
 So when the ladies had gone presently, and they 
 were smoking in silence, he looked up tenta- 
 tively . 
 
 " And you have heard no news lately, other than 
 mine, from the mill? The white man, he has told 
 you no more? You have no friends here from the 
 mill?" 
 
 A native, when he lies, does so with extreme 
 facility and picturesqueness. Long custom has 
 lent perfection to what is, after all, to him a com- 
 paratively easy art. 
 
 "We have no one from Sidjokarto, alas! People 
 there like not the holy mountain," the mandoer 
 said. " Men and women alike, they fear a charm. 
 The rhinoceros, he climbs here to die; and to see 
 
 199 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 him die would be to bring bad luck for all the 
 family. We hear no news. We see no one." 
 
 " Just so," Eedjo said, and then rose and stretched 
 himself. " I, then, will go to sleep. It is cold 
 now, with this mist from the summit. You, per- 
 haps, will let me lie inside?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, certainly;" he waved his hand within. 
 " I have no room in our house, but there is the 
 pendoppo (veranda) of the white man's house; go 
 within, take one of the rooms. You will see the 
 beautiful pictures we have put up for the Dutch 
 nonjah, from a paper of the European's. You 
 are free to lie on the mat there, or within, on the 
 floor. I make it free to you." 
 
 Eedjo, thanking him, took a small native lamp 
 and withdrew. 
 
 The veranda was furnished in the usual way. 
 " The beautiful pictures " referred to, two staring 
 lithographs of a blonde young lady simpering be- 
 hind a muff, were pinned on the wall; inside was 
 a passage from which the bed-rooms opened, and 
 this he examined carefully, going into first one 
 room and then another. They were all empty, 
 though traces of the Dutchman's and his wife's 
 presence were visible in a few ends of cigars, an 
 old "Harlem" label, evidently fallen from a box, 
 and the pages of a Dutch fashion-magazine. 
 
 Eedjo searched carefully, and suddenly his eye 
 
 200 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 lighted on something in the corner; he lifted it up 
 and held it to his small lamp. It was a small red 
 leather saddle, evidently the saddle from a child's 
 toy horse. He had seen Leon in the carriage with 
 just such a one. His eyes gleamed, and he stood 
 erect. "Just as I thought. She has been here, 
 and has bribed them to say nothing. She must 
 have gone on at once. Now that I know she has 
 come this way (it was more daring, but safer in the 
 end for her), I think I may pick her up. Only, if 
 she has to sleep outside, with the child, in this raw 
 cold mist — " He thought of the child, and his face 
 darkened. He thought of his own, and a strange 
 look of peace and content dawned on it. His little 
 one was as carefully tended as a European's. He 
 slept on a bed, while his mother watched on the 
 floor. In the cold nights there was a thick rug 
 over him ; he ate as Europeans ate ; on a night like 
 this he would be warm and sheltered. But perhaps 
 that child, her child, was out in it, delicately 
 nurtured, accustomed to the sultry heat below. 
 
 " It would be of no use to go on now," he said 
 to himself " I could see nothing through this wet 
 veil. She will have sense enough to cover the boy. 
 Perhaps she knows of a hut. But with the first 
 streak of dawn I shall be off". That poor mother!" 
 
 He lay down then, and, shivering, drew an old 
 mat over him. But he was almost too cold to 
 
 201 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 sleep, and presently lie began to pace the floor 
 again. He was thinking of the English girl's 
 words, recalling them one by one, recalling the 
 English voice. 
 
 " She did not know all the truth," he said to 
 himself with a kind of groan. " They speak in 
 the dark. If she knew all, would she speak like 
 that? I can see her shrink back. Amice did not, 
 but Amice loved me! Love fears nothing — not 
 even sin. It beareth all things, endureth all 
 things." 
 
 Then he went and sat outside, and waited for 
 the dawn to break. The child, his child, would be 
 fast asleep; old Wongso would have given his 
 message to the little dark-eyed patient wife. How 
 long the time seemed already since he left little 
 Harry! The name came to his lips, and he smiled 
 curiously, repeating it over and over. " Poor dead 
 name! Harry Bouverie! Harry Bouverie!" 
 
 And then the owner of the dead name lay down, 
 and at last fell asleep. 
 
 It was late next night when he reached the Lost 
 Waterfall, near to which the village stood. He 
 had climbed all day, often losing his path, and 
 being obliged to retrace his steps; eating the rice 
 and dried food which he had brought with him, 
 and drinking from the streams. Now he found 
 himself on a kind of plateau, under which the 
 
 202 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 hidden stream of the fall gurgled and plashed, 
 the roar of the cascade itself coming loud and in- 
 sistent from above. He had come through tangled 
 ways and by lonely villages, composed of little 
 bamboo huts, each with its patch of Indian corn 
 or rice. He had pushed through wild thorny 
 undergrowth and scaled rocky shelves, burning 
 under the sun's rays, panting and weary. Now a 
 cooler air was coming, but soon would descend the 
 horrible mist and creeping cold. And to-night 
 it would be a question if he would find shelter 
 at all! Wild and unkempt children had rushed 
 out from the huts, guiltless of any rag of attire, 
 staring through elf-locks at him. He had found 
 it difficult to understand them, though one and all 
 had denied seeing any strange woman and child. 
 Now he thought he would rest before he climbed 
 up to the village. Sunset was coming, and the 
 scene below was spread out like a panorama. 
 
 " If they are here I must act warily," he said 
 to himself " And if she suspects my errand 
 she may set them on to kUl me. Is my kris all 
 right? No one would know. And only Nami 
 and the boy would miss me. It would be a good 
 end. But, for the child's sake, I must find him!" 
 
 He looked down again at the plain below, where 
 his mind's eye saw one little hut — and one little 
 baby face. The velvety eyes smiled at him, the 
 
 203 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 small eager brown arms were held out. Oh to feel 
 them round his neck, there and then! 
 
 Across the plain lay lines and downy masses 
 of white clouds, aerial as an angel's garment, left 
 floating as the released spirit mounted on white 
 wings to heaven; to the left the three peaks of the 
 mighty volcanoes, the Sindoro, the Soembing, and 
 the Prauw, with a flame-coloured glory behind 
 them, and ever and again, as the glory dimmed, 
 a flash of summer lightning. He was far, far 
 above the world, he felt — far from all human 
 touch; it was almost like being a disembodied 
 spirit. The curious irresponsible flashes lit up 
 the precipices and the distant shadowy and purple 
 peaks. Above him the Slamat towered, thousands 
 of feet distant still, a thin filmy veil over its face, 
 through which, as he looked, there shot suddenly 
 a sword-like flame. 
 
 Then the light faded more and more, the roar 
 of the waterfall seemed suddenly louder, the frogs 
 and crickets joined in a piercing treble duet. 
 Redjo rose as the night wind struck him chilly, 
 and with one more glance at the now darkened 
 plain, far below, struck into the path which climbed 
 to the village. 
 
 It was almost dark amongst the wild little huts, 
 where the women were bending over their fires; 
 most of the children were asleep, and no one 
 
 204 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 noticed the tall native as lie passed through, look- 
 ing sharply about him. At a larger hut than the 
 rest he paused, and, creeping round by the back, 
 where there were groups of tattered banana-trees 
 and a patch of Indian corn, he stood looking in 
 between the crevices of the bamboo walls. 
 
 " I remember this place — the head - man lived 
 here. She would, probably — Yes. By heaven! 
 there she is!" 
 
 He could see her crouching on the floor on a 
 mat, eating something out of her hand — a tall 
 handsome native, with fine eyes and a curiously 
 cold and secretive mouth. He bent his ear and 
 listened, but they talked fast, and the words 
 escaped him. 
 
 What should he do now? The hut was full of 
 men, all armed with the kris, all strong and fierce. 
 He had not enough money to bribe them all; he 
 could not challenge them, and — was the chUd 
 really here? 
 
 The question was answered as soon as asked, for 
 just then he heard, in a child's sharp, imperative 
 Malay: "Baboe, I do not sleep! I like not this 
 bed! I tell you to take me, and at once, to my 
 mother!" She got up with a glance round, and 
 went into the inner room. Eedjo waited, thinking 
 deeply. The boy was there! Suppose he waited 
 tUl they were all asleep, and then crept into the 
 
 205 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 house. Even if he were seen hanging around, no 
 one would accuse or suspect. They would imagine 
 him only a native from the plains — perhaps one 
 in hiding. He could wait outside till they were 
 wrapped in sleep, and then creep in. If he 
 succeeded in rescuing the child before Kascila 
 wakened, and in getting out of the hut, he could 
 perhaps hide L^on and himself near the lost 
 waterfall; then, always travelling by night, they 
 might reach the foot of the volcano. He had a 
 small store of food. He could count on buying 
 a little on the way, leaving the child out of sight. 
 He waited and watched. Kascila returned and 
 finished her supper. Most of the men went out. 
 She was left with one woman in the hut — the wife 
 of the head of the village. It was bitterly cold 
 then. The horrible creeping mist had descended 
 again from the top of the mountain and laid its 
 baffling chilly veil over everything. It swept in 
 his face and chilled him to the bone; he shook as 
 in an ague. The boy woke and wailed. Redjo 
 could hear Kascila get up and soothe him. Then 
 she returned and lay down on the mat. When 
 he could hear her deep regular breathing he crept 
 round slowly and through the open door. He could 
 see Ldon laid on the rude bed in the inner room, 
 a thick dark blanket over him. Madame's face 
 seemed to shine before him as he saw her son's — 
 
 206 
 
Tracking Rascila 
 
 the pleading dark eyes, the white sobbing lips. 
 He stepped between the two sleeping women and 
 entered the other room. Near, and he was bend- 
 ing over the boy. He must whisper in his ear, or 
 the child might waken and scream. "L^on! L^on!" 
 
 The boy wakened and looked up without a word. 
 
 " I have come," Redjo whispered, " to take you 
 home to your mother. Hist! Not a word!" 
 
 L^on stared, terrified. He was a brave little 
 lad, but it had all been so strange and terrifying, 
 and so cold! And she had sometimes covered his 
 mouth and nearly choked him; and the very 
 word " mother" made him want to cry out, and 
 sob, and wring his hands. 
 
 " Listen," Redjo whispered, still in French, " I 
 shall lift you in this blanket — I shall — Ah!" 
 
 Someone had crept up behind stealthily, like 
 a tigress — a woman with a kris in her long brown 
 hand. A woman who had wakened and seen, and 
 clasped the knife she had ready. An awful piercing 
 pain, the fire as of hell, in his back! He fell, with 
 a deep groan, and Rascila stood over him, her eyes 
 ablaze. 
 
 "He steals the child fi-om me! I — I kill him! 
 Is he dead?" 
 
 She stooped down and looked keenly in his face, 
 starting back as she did so. 
 
 "It is the strange husband of Nami!" she cried, 
 
 207 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 as if in amazement. "I meant not to kill him! 
 It is all a mistake!" 
 
 Ldon, sitting up, burst into wailing sobs. This 
 was a new terror! Oh, how terrible these days 
 were! Rasoila knelt down and raised the un- 
 conscious face on her knee. She felt for the wound 
 and tried to staunch it, as the other woman crept 
 near. 
 
 "He spoke with the voice of a white man — I 
 heard it," Rascila said. " I am ready to swear 
 I heard it. But it must have been magic! For 
 it is only the strange husband of Nami at Seradjo, 
 whom I knew. And Nami would be like to kill 
 me for this. He is the father of her beautiful 
 child!" 
 
 "Is he dead?" the other woman asked. " He 
 bleeds horribly! Is he dead?" 
 
 Eascila answered: " I do not know. Go and 
 fetch Marto; he knows all the healing leaves. He 
 is as good as a white man's doctor." 
 
 208 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Nami's Despair 
 
 It was the evening of Eedjo's departure, a little be- 
 fore dusk, when Nami reached home, the boy slung, 
 as usual, in her slendang, his little brown naked 
 legs hanging from the bright folds. She looked up 
 as she reached the gate, and an indescribable look 
 of love and expectation dawned in her face. The 
 lamp would be lit, her husband would be waiting, 
 to play with the boy, while she prepared the even- 
 ing meal. She had brought home, as a great treat 
 for him, one or two tomatoes which the cook at the 
 lodgie had given her. Nami was thinking of the 
 tomatoes when she perceived that the little veranda 
 was in darkness; no lamp was lit. Redjo was not 
 there! The sight brought a slight chill to her 
 eagerness. 
 
 " He is late," she said to herself. " Perhaps they 
 have sent for him to the office — about the bibit." 
 
 He always avoided going to the oflB.ce of the 
 mill, she knew — always avoided having any deal- 
 ings with the European employes at all, but now 
 
 (B30) 209 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and then he had to go. She would prepare the 
 supper and have all ready, everything as he liked 
 it. The little boy was sleepy; she would lay him 
 down. 
 
 So Nami prepared the meal and the coffee, and 
 then, as still Eedjo did not come, she sat down on 
 the veranda steps, her little pointed chin in her 
 dusky hands, the great coils of her rich soft dark 
 hair, scented softly with the fragrant blossoms of 
 the Spanish jessamine which were interwoven 
 with it. It was very beautiful hair and very 
 carefully tended. She was a sweet and gentle 
 woman, in years little more than a child; but 
 though she adored him, she was always very much 
 in awe of her husband. He had come into her life 
 as strangely as if he had been one of the majestic 
 deities or princes they told of in the native 
 theatres. She knew very well he was no Javanese, 
 but she had never dared question or even surmise. 
 She had nursed him, with her mother, when his 
 little hut was next theirs, far away, near the 
 Slamat. He was seeking for orchids then, and had 
 caught a very bad fever in some swamps. And 
 after that he had gone to her father, and they had 
 been married according to Javanese rites. Since 
 then she had been blissfully happy, and yet there 
 had always lain behind it all a vague fear, a vague 
 dread. He and she had never come very near, 
 
 210 
 
Nami's Despair 
 
 thougli there were times when she chatted to him 
 freely and frankly, and he listened quite pleasantly 
 and patiently. Nami always knew, in every in- 
 stinct, that though all her life was open as the un- 
 sullied white page of a book to him, his was locked 
 and closed to her. It was a vague terror that one 
 day he would go, as he had come, and leave her 
 desolate. When the boy came she slightly lost 
 this terror. She was wise enough to know how 
 strong a tie the child made. 
 
 To-night she began to be conscious, after a little, 
 of a persistent fear and dread, and, rising suddenly 
 to her feet, she went into her husband's room. 
 She looked about her, half-nervously, as she did 
 so, as if it were a shrine in which she had no 
 right. Yes, his kris was gone, and a change of 
 clothes. Her face whitened and her lips quivered. 
 He had gone, with no message! She could not 
 read — it had been impossible to leave a letter — but 
 no message! That was unlike him. She went out 
 to the veranda again, and presently walked to the 
 gate. There she stood looking down the road, her 
 heart heavy within her. The moon rose and flooded 
 all the scene with unnatural beauty : it transformed 
 the muddy river into a magic stream; the cocoa- 
 nut palms seemed cut out of silver; the Cross, 
 jewel-like and brilliant, seemed to hang just over 
 the little house. The faint cloying scent of some 
 
 2U 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 luscious night-flower was in the air. She was still 
 standing thus when a native, whose disagreeable 
 face was badly marked with small-pox, came up 
 and bent forward, leering rudely in her face. 
 Nami shrank from him, as from a snake in the 
 grass. 
 
 " You look for your husband ?" 
 
 " Yes." She turned round, nervously but eagerly. 
 " Have you seen him?" 
 
 " He has left — gone away," the man said, grin- 
 ning. "Two nonjahs were here — the young nonjah 
 Engerese and the nonjah besar (great lady) from 
 the lodgie. They stood and talked. They tell him 
 something. And then he goes in, and comes out 
 with a bundle, and his kris. He goes on a long 
 journey, and for good and all. He leaves Nami. 
 He grows weary of her. After all, there was always 
 something strange about his Javanese. Perhaps he 
 was of high birth, and he despises Nami. Perhaps 
 he comes from another land, and he tires of Java 
 and of her." 
 
 "It is not true!" 
 
 She had flashed the words in his face, but the 
 man only laughed. He owed both Eedjo and his 
 wife a grudge, and was enjoying the process of 
 paying it ofi". 
 
 "It is true," he said. " You will wait and see. 
 He wUl not return. A man who can talk the 
 
 213 
 
Nami's Despair 
 
 language of the white man — what would you? He 
 will not stay here, always, as Nami's husband. 
 He goes, perhaps, to the Sultan of Djocya, or to 
 the Nail of the Earth. He is tired of Nami." 
 
 "It is not true!" 
 
 It was all she could say, and then she turned 
 desperately and went back to the house and the 
 child. He was still asleep. She felt pierced to the 
 heart, stunned, and despairing. She lay down on 
 the mat beside him, presently, and hid her face in 
 her arms. The jessamine fell from her hair, and 
 the soft folds, disarranged, covered her eyes. She 
 wept long and despairingly. In her heart she 
 believed this wretch. Had she not always known 
 it, that one day Redjo would leave her? But the 
 boy — he had so loved the boy! And he had not 
 waited even to kiss the child! 
 
 She slept at last, worn out, and woke in the 
 early and chill hour before dawn. Market was a 
 long way off from the side - road and the river, 
 but she was always there early to buy the best 
 fruit and vegetables and meat for her two beloved. 
 She was so accustomed to the hour that she woke 
 as usual, and started to her feet. She tried to 
 struggle with herself, to tell herself that the native 
 who spoke last night was a wicked man. Perhaps, 
 after all, Eedjo would return. There must be 
 breakfast, ready. So she ran out to the river and 
 
 213 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 bathed and dressed, and the cold shock of the 
 water seemed to revive her and give her hope. 
 She tied on her slendang and got her long narrow 
 market-basket, and then took another glance at 
 the sleeping boy. He would be all right till her 
 return, she would be first at the market, and be 
 back before he awakened. So she sped down the 
 beautiful road with eager feet. It was a relief 
 to do something. The restlessness of misery was 
 upon her already. She spent her money to the 
 best advantage, and chatted much as usual with 
 the other women They should not guess nor 
 see anything wrong, and then she took her way 
 home. 
 
 Half-way down the road she passed the hut of 
 Wongso, an old man who was a great friend of hers 
 and her husband's — a wise old man who dealt in 
 native herbs and spices. She thought she would 
 just look in and ask if he had seen her husband, 
 and she was entering the gate, her basket piled 
 high in her slendang, when she heard a sound of 
 wailing from the house. She stood suddenly, as 
 if rooted to the ground, and then she stole up to 
 the pendoppo and stood, with her little bare foot 
 on the step, hesitating. Then a woman saw her 
 and came forward. 
 
 " I wanted to see Wongso," Nami said hesitat- 
 ingly; but the other waved her away. 
 
 214 
 
Nami's Despair 
 
 "Do not come here, Nami! He has died of 
 cholera last night. He has gone, in two hours. 
 It is the water — the water he would drink — of the 
 old well. The tuan besar (great master) has for- 
 bidden it to be used, but Wongso is deaf, and did 
 not hear. And he drinks — and dies!" 
 
 " Dead ! " Nami faltered pitifully. " Dead ! " 
 
 " Yes. Your husband will be sorry. They have 
 talked together, only last evening. I have seen 
 them." 
 
 "Redjo was here?" 
 
 " I have seen them at the gate. He went on 
 that way then. But I suppose he is back? He 
 looked as though on a journey." 
 
 Nami made no answer at all. She turned and 
 walked away. She would tell no one — never! 
 But she felt as if hope were gradually leaving her. 
 Wongso would have told her! Eedjo had spoken 
 to him. Perhaps told him where and why he went. 
 She went slowly and heavily home, and rested her 
 basket on the floor. What use to cook or prepare 
 anything? She could not eat. Eedjo had gone 
 without a sign. 
 
 Weeks had passed, and Nami, with the rest of the 
 world, had heard that the boy at the lodgie was 
 gone, and that all Java was being scoured for him. 
 There had been examinations and cross -examina- 
 
 215 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 tions, but nothing was evolved. Then Madame 
 grew very ill, and was ordered to go to the hills 
 at once. The lodgie was deserted. Van Delden 
 was in power at the mill as deputy -manager. 
 The men were sullen and unwilling. The over- 
 seers harsh and angry. A bad atmosphere, waiting 
 only a spark, as some of them knew. Eedjo did 
 not return. For Nami life was bounded by that 
 fact. Eedjo did not return. 
 
 It seemed a life-time already since he had gone, 
 when at last one day she thought of something. 
 She remembered when she was quite young hearing 
 her mother talk of the great temple of Bbra Bofedor, 
 where, when all else failed, and the great God of 
 the Mohammedans did not hear, Javanese women 
 sometimes went. There was her own mother. For 
 long she had been denied a child, and she had gone 
 to Bbra Bo^dor, and there she had prayed and 
 offered sacrifice. There was a strange god there, 
 called Buddha, and sometimes he heard. Her 
 mother had offered money and a sacrifice of fire, 
 and the god had been propitiated. A year after, 
 to her joy and delight, and to her husband's, a 
 child had been born What if this kind god 
 Buddha heard her, and sent her husband home! 
 There might be at least a chance. It was very far 
 away, but she would find out where from her 
 mother, and walk there with the boy. If one has 
 
 216 
 
Kami's Despair 
 
 time, one can walk anywhere; and she had a little 
 money saved still. She could go as far as Djocya 
 by train. Her mother would give her more money. 
 All mothers were kind. It was such a relief to do 
 something — to catch at even a straw! 
 
 So she tidied up the little house, and locked 
 away all her treasures — her best sarongs and slen- 
 dangs, and her beads, and a little brooch of 
 Javanese diamonds, and a comb for her hair. 
 Then she confided the box to Wongso's widow, 
 and with a bundle on her back, and the boy in 
 her slendang, she set off. 
 
 It was a lovely morning, and all the world 
 seemed bright and full of hope. The chUd was 
 nestling against her; she chatted to him in Malay, 
 and told him they were going to seek his father. 
 She tried hard to hope. There was yellow ochre, 
 and dried rose-leaves, and some money for the god 
 in her parcel. When they passed Van Delden's 
 house she saw a travelling - carriage with four 
 horses drawn up before it, also two dog-carts, some 
 of the house-servants were putting up luggage in 
 one of the dog-carts. Two baboes were hovering 
 near in their best sarongs, and they paused to chat 
 with Nami. They were going, they said, a very 
 long journey. They were bidding farewell to this 
 part of Java for a time. They were immensely 
 important and conceited. The three nonjahs 
 
 217 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Engerese were going to the great temple of Bbra 
 Boeder — the tuans, Van Delden, and Beresford 
 went also. And they would be absent a week — 
 they were to live at the passang grahan near the 
 temple, where, the tuans decided, there would be 
 few servants. Therefore they went to attend the 
 nonjahs, and see that no other baboes stole from 
 them. They themselves, as Nami knew, were the 
 souls of honesty; very few were like them ! 
 
 Nami paused as if bewildered. "Do they, too, 
 go to pray?" she asked in her soft voice. "Does 
 their god also refuse what they ask? Are they all 
 deaf just now to women, both white and Javanese?" 
 
 " We know not, nor if they ever pray. If so, 
 strangely, not on a mat and looking to the east. 
 They are of a habit altogether strange, as Nami has 
 perhaps heard? They wear not the sarong, nor 
 kabiah, but strange garments of white, loose and 
 wide. See, they come — and the tuans." 
 
 Nami stood humbly aside, and the old ladies 
 came out in their dust-cloaks and shady hats. Miss 
 Lavender, as usual, a little perturbed. Van Delden 
 was in the highest spirits, and Dick followed, the 
 two men having been granted some days' holiday. 
 Elspeth, in white, with a small basket, came last, 
 and her eye fell on Nami and the pretty child. 
 
 " What a dear little child!" she cried. " I seem 
 to have seen him before! He is scarcely like a 
 
 218 
 
Kami's Despair 
 
 native, though he is dark. Do you see, Miss 
 Horatio?" 
 
 " Yes, poor little thing. But I am glad she does 
 not shave his hair, as most of the women do. She 
 is very pretty herself. And her teeth are not 
 stained. Who is she?" 
 
 " I know not," Van Delden said. " But now 
 it is time that we 'houp la!' Dick, you will put 
 in your so long legs at that side, and not the ladies 
 incommode. Has the baboe the lunch-basket in the 
 dog-cart?" 
 
 " She says so." 
 
 " Then she lies, for I see the boy has left it on 
 the steps. I abuse them all! Here it goes. You 
 are all that is comfortable and respectable, Miss 
 Macdonald?" 
 
 " I hope so," Elspeth said; " I endeavour to be." 
 
 " Then that is alright. I climb in my voiture, 
 and off we go! I am as a bird on the wing!" 
 
 They were off, the carriage and two dog-carts, in 
 a cloud of dust and amid the chastened shrieks of 
 the lopers, Miss Lavender having impressed upon 
 both men that the less they yelled the better she 
 would feel, and the safer and the sooner, she felt 
 certain, they would reach their destination. 
 
 Nami trudging painfully, reached her mother's 
 that night, and was directed to Djocya, where she 
 took train. Her mother strongly advocated an 
 
 219 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 appeal to Buddha. Was Nami herself not the 
 result of prayer to the Bbra Bofedor god? 
 
 She thought sometimes of the party which had 
 gone on in advance. Had they reached the temple, 
 and had the Buddha heard them? And she won- 
 dered vaguely what white women could have still 
 to ask, and how it was that their God, too, 
 seemed deaf. White women, she had supposed, 
 were always heard. 
 
 From Redjo there was neither word nor message. 
 
 But now she journeyed in hope. 
 
 220 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 To the Unknown God 
 
 "Buildings wrought in dead days 
 By hands a long time dead." 
 
 Elspeth said the words to herself dreamily, as she 
 stood at the front of the great terrace, looking up 
 at this wonderful temple. She could never, she 
 decided, have imagined anything in her wildest 
 dreams so beautiful, so age-weary, so old beyond 
 the imagination of age. 
 
 To-day, in the pitiless and garish sunshine, B6ra 
 Bo^dor seemed grayer than ever, more remote from 
 the time in which it still held place. Twelve hun- 
 dred years old, by the most modest computation, 
 and about ninety-five years since General Raffles, 
 in the time of the English occupation, had it dug 
 out from the encircling mound of lava ashes, and 
 dirt, and wild vegetation which had covered it, 
 how long? under the burning sun, a turret or the 
 edge of a niche, appearing through the strange 
 covering, perhaps the top of the saint's head. 
 Now, awe-inspiring, terrible, lonely, it stood facing 
 
 221 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 a lovely stretch of grass, beyond which were the 
 blue peaks of hills — a huge building, forming a 
 square, each side over a hundred yards long. 
 Eight terraces surmounted by a dome, four hundred 
 and twenty niches, and in each niche a Buddha, 
 with the inevitable lotus carved above the stately 
 and benignant face. In the lower terrace the 
 Buddha is quite uncovered, there he sits in a niche; 
 above, in a bell-like covering of lattice-work; last of 
 all he is buried up to the chin, in the dome which 
 crowns the edifice. 
 
 Elspeth stood now by a fallen image, having 
 climbed the first terrace, her hand resting lightly 
 on the stone head. 
 
 " So many Buddhas and all so gentle, so noble 
 in conception. But they make me feel, somehow, 
 how tired and old they must be. Everything has 
 passed as a tale that is told. The hands that 
 carved them, the hearts that worshipped, the brains 
 that conceived this mighty fane, are where? Dust, 
 while the temple stands, changeless. We — we are 
 but moths beside this, the insects of an hour. And 
 long after we, too, sleep, the Buddhas will stand 
 and stare out from these fathomless eyes, into the 
 white pitiless light, into — " 
 
 "Ah, you are here!" 
 
 Dick could not restrain a little sigh of pleasure, 
 in spite of himself. V-an Delden and he were to 
 
 222 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 leave next day, and he had seen so little of her. 
 But Van Delden, thank heaven! never could 
 forego his afternoon siesta, and after a particularly 
 good ryst-tafel to-day, was now comfortably and 
 safely asleep in his shaded room below. 
 
 Elspeth looked round with a smile. Dick's 
 grave face was sympathetic. He, like herself, did 
 not speak much about the temple. Van Delden 
 made little jokes about the Buddhas; the old ladies 
 thought it wonderful, but "dreadfully tiring"; and 
 Miss Lavender said it was sad to think that the 
 temple was a heathen place of worship, and that 
 the people even offered sacrifice still. She shook 
 her head over Bbra Boedor, as if it were a delin- 
 quent. 
 
 Miss Horatio wondered the Dutch did not make 
 sacrifice a punishable offence. She said Van Delden 
 ought to write to the governor-general — or to " the 
 papers". 
 
 " How many times have you climbed these 
 steps?" Dick said, as he and Elspeth climbed higher 
 now. " I tried to get you the photographs of the 
 Buddhas in the bell-like covering on the top, but 
 the sun was not quite right." 
 
 " A photograph — a picture — nothing could do it 
 justice!" the girl said dreamily. She had seated 
 herself now a little in the shade, under the edge of 
 the wonderful stone bas-reliefe, which run all round 
 
 223 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the terraces — a miracle of carving. " One feels that. 
 I tried to describe it to — a friend. He wanted me 
 to write an article for a paper. But I threw it 
 down in despair at last. One may give the measure- 
 ments, and copy a page from that dreadful little 
 guide-book, but the feeling of the place, the look 
 of it all under moonlight, — and then when one 
 peoples it again with dead-and-gone worshippers, 
 climbing these stairs with their quiet patient feet! 
 I suppose Hindoos must have come here from 
 India with the story of Buddha, and taught them 
 to build and to carve? No Javanese could carve 
 like this now. It is a lost art. And to think 
 there is not a piece of mortar in the place. And 
 that no one knows where this wonderful hard stone 
 is to be found (as no one knows where the stones 
 they threw at us on the veranda, that night, were 
 found). Oh, sometimes I am glad that there are 
 things in life which still are mysteries, that one 
 can't plumb with a line ! We have grown so dread- 
 fully practical and matter-of-fact!" 
 
 "Have we?" Dick said absently. 
 
 Perhaps it may be allowed that he was scarcely 
 following her. He was watching the way her hair 
 curled up under her hat and on the white neck, 
 the pose of her neck, the little shell-like ear, the 
 turn of her softly-coloured cheek. The pink on 
 her face was the pink of monthly roses. After all, 
 
 224 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 these things were more to him than the Buddhas 
 on the terrace, the multitude of carving on the 
 bas-reliefs, flowers and fruit, temples, figures and 
 animals, fresh and sharp as if cut there yesterday. 
 A woman's face, if he loves it, is more to a man 
 than all the teinples in the world. It is the casket 
 of his love, which an antiquity never can be. 
 
 "You are not listening to me, Dick?" 
 
 Gradually she had drifted into that. Everyone 
 called him Dick. 
 
 " Was I not? It was very rude," he said; " I was 
 thinking how sorry I am that I have to go away 
 and leave this place!" 
 
 "Yes, it has been a lovely little holiday." 
 
 " But I am sure you could write an article," he 
 said then eagerly; " I could perhaps help you with 
 all the history that is known, if you wish. If you 
 would like to do it. " 
 
 " I don't know." She was thinking, absently, 
 that Walter would find the article poor and flimsy, 
 or perhaps even sentimental. He had a way of 
 dubbing things " sentimental". He was so clever 
 himself, her work could never please him. 
 
 Dick was wondering what brought the shadow 
 to her face, and the little restless pain. If only he 
 dared ask? But, till Van Delden had spoken and 
 gained his answer, he felt he was not free. 
 
 " Shall we go up higher?" 
 
 (B30) 225 p 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She rose then, and they climbed up till they 
 reached the second-last terrace, where they went 
 into a side-tenaple. Here it was dark and com- 
 paratively cool, and on the hidden figures little 
 tufts of maidenhair fern grew luxuriantly, an 
 exquisite green against the gray of the old, old 
 stone. 
 
 " See the lichen on this Buddha's neck," Elspeth 
 said. "It is like a Honiton-lace collar. Look at 
 the fern high up there in the crevices. And look! 
 here are some sacrifices. I saw some natives com- 
 ing to pray to-day." 
 
 She pointed to the little squares of the inevit- 
 able banana-leaf, on which were rifts of wilted 
 rose-leaves and Spanish jessamine — here, a doewit 
 or two (the smallest Javanese coin) there, an offer- 
 ing of fire on a little piece of red tile. It was all 
 very human, and childish, and pathetic. What are 
 we all but children? 
 
 "Poor things! it is like children," Elspeth said, 
 standing with her hands on the stone lattice-work 
 of the bell-shaped dome, and looking within at the 
 quiet and noble face. "See! someone has man- 
 aged to put a coin in this stone hand. How the 
 mild face seems to smile. Dick, do you really 
 think they believe that the Buddha will hear?" 
 
 " Perhaps they hope for the off-chance," Dick 
 said, turning round. He had been gazing through 
 
 226 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 a crevice in the wall at the green rice-fields, the 
 luxuriant palms, and the cane-fields, all melting up 
 to the base of the hills, and seeming to dance 
 together in a hot yellow shimmer of heat. "When 
 one wishes a thing very much one would try any 
 number of off"- chances. It is like catching at 
 straws. Though we know them to be straws, we 
 clutch at them desperately." 
 
 " Dick, you speak as though you desired some- 
 thing very much. What is the straw you want to 
 clutch at?" 
 
 She turned her bright eyes smilingly upon him. 
 She was used to chaffing them both more or less. 
 They were all very good friends. She had not 
 dreamed for an instant that it was a dangerous 
 thing to say, but the sudden fire in his eyes told 
 her, as in a blinding flash. 
 
 She shrank back, and her eyes fell. The hot 
 colour dyed her face. Oh, what was this? 
 
 " There is," Dick said slowly. " There is some- 
 thing which I desire above all the world, compared 
 to which all the world is poor. But don't ask me 
 what it is now; not yet. Heaven knows, I may 
 never be able to tell you." 
 
 She stood silent. She should have told him of 
 Walter. She had fancied the old ladies had done 
 so. Should she now? Yet, how could she take it 
 for granted that he meant that? 
 
 227 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 No, the old ladies must tell him at once. She 
 felt bewildered, shocked. Dick to talk like that 
 — slow, imperturbable Dick! And the fire in his 
 eyes, the eager light, the tenderness, the hope, the 
 one look which thrills every woman's heart, gentle 
 or simple, bond or free, the look of passionate 
 love. 
 
 Dick had turned away. He saw he had startled 
 her. He was sorry he had betrayed himself — and 
 yet, was he? But Van Delden was to have his 
 chance. He had no right to say anything. 
 
 He went out then, and waited for her on the 
 terrace, and they walked round the bas-reliefs, and 
 climbed, last of all, into the dome. Here, in the 
 holy of holies, the Buddha is buried up to his 
 chin in mud. Birds built in the crevices of the 
 high-vaulted roof, and twittered softly above the 
 cold stone face, maidenhair-fern crept everywhere, 
 rejoicing in the half-dusk. It was almost cold 
 after the fierce white light outside. 
 
 " I don't want you to catch cold," Dick said 
 gently. "It is very damp here. Suppose we go 
 down again and see if tea is ready? Even if the 
 others are not up (Van Delden is like one of the 
 seven sleepers) we could have it on the veranda, 
 you and I, or I could bring it up here to you in 
 the basket." 
 
 "That would be lovely," Elspeth said, "down 
 
 228 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 on the lowest terrace, away from the Buddhas. 
 We will not desecrate them. But it would be 
 lovely under the shelter of the terrace. Only, it 
 will be very hot to carry things. And the boys 
 will be asleep too. It is only we restless English 
 who are awake now; only English and fools walk 
 in the sun, they say in Rome." 
 
 " I would carry anything anywhere — " 
 
 He broke off then. Since he had seen her blush 
 he had been almost reckless, his blood had coursed 
 wildly in his veins. After all, though he must 
 wait. Van Delden had no more right to speak than 
 he. And, oh, he might hope! Surely he dared 
 hope! 
 
 Elspeth was glad he stopped short, glad he went 
 bounding down the steep stone stairs as if they 
 were the easiest descent in the world and the ther- 
 mometer did not stand at ninety degrees in the 
 shade. She had never thought of this possibility. 
 Poor Dick! 
 
 "He is so good," she said to herself, " so simple 
 and kindly and strong. Father would like him. 
 Even the natives adore him, and would do anything 
 for him. And he is brave as a lion. I never 
 thought of this. I should have told him about 
 Walter. Walter would say — " She stopped, and 
 a little sigh faltered on her lips. Her face flushed 
 softly and yet saddened. '"What nonsense!' 
 
 229 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Walter would say, ' He will get over it. Why 
 should you care? You are mine. He had no 
 business to raise his eyes to you.'" 
 
 That would be like Walter. It is a curious fact 
 that there are certain people whose views are on 
 such well-defined lines that we can always prog- 
 nosticate them. Elspeth loved Walter, but she 
 knew he was not particularly careful or sensitive 
 as to other people's feelings. That, he said, was 
 their look-out. 
 
 " I don't think I did anything," the girl was 
 saying to herself remorsefully. " I was really 
 kinder to Van Delden than to Dick. No, I don't 
 think I did anything." 
 
 She had only been herself. 
 
 She wandered down presently, and, hearing a 
 gentle voice coming from the side-temple in which 
 they had been, she looked in. It was full of half- 
 radiated light, and there, kneeling on the stone by 
 the shrouded Buddha, was the slender figure of 
 a Javanese girl. Her long dark hair had become 
 partly unfastened, and her child, standing by her 
 side, was playing with it and murmuring happily. 
 A very pretty boy — the boy Elspeth had seen 
 before. 
 
 The mother's dusky face was turned away, but 
 there were tears in her voice, and her small hands 
 were thrust through the open lattice-work appeal- 
 
 230 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 ingly. Slie was saying something in Javanese. 
 Elspeth could not follow it, repeating it over and 
 over. And then she brought the boy to her side, 
 and made him put his hands through also and 
 repeat the words. 
 
 "Poor thing!" Elspeth said to herself. "How 
 pitiful it is! I wish I could tell her to leave the 
 poor stone Buddha alone. It is like letting her 
 break her head against stone bars." 
 
 Nami looked round then, and the little packet of 
 rose-leaves fell at her feet, with a piece of yellow 
 ochre, and some small copper coins. She stared 
 up at the English lady as if somehow terrified and 
 bewildered. Samen had said that two white 
 women talked with Eedjo, that he went away 
 at their bidding. Sometimes that thought had 
 rankled. She had been told stories of how white 
 women had come, and how, after that, white men 
 had left the native women who loved them. But 
 Eedjo had married her, and he was not an Euro- 
 pean — was he? 
 
 The question, like a blinding flash, crossed her 
 brain and seemed to stun her as she stared up at 
 Elspeth, these thoughts crowding upon her. He 
 was not from the district certainly; but — . She 
 could go no further then. Yes, white women had 
 done things like that — and sometimes the native 
 wife had been revenged. And there had been wild 
 
 231 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 talks of poison, of chopped bamboo fibre, of white 
 seeds, baked. 
 
 " You poor little thing, I wonder what you want 
 so badly, and why you cry?" Elspeth said aloud. 
 " I wish I could ask you. What a pretty boy ! 
 Come, little one! See my pretty chain!" 
 
 But Nami put out her hand and drew the boy 
 back. Her velvety eyes were curiously bright and 
 fierce. She drew him back and crouched near the 
 Buddha, and put out her hand and lifted up the 
 yellow ochre and the rose leaves. This white girl 
 should not enchant the boy too! 
 
 "Won't you let him see my watch?" Elspeth 
 said, swinging her little watch on its crystal and 
 gold chain; and then she turned away, hearing 
 Dick's voice calling to her. He came up then, hot 
 and eager, saying the boy had brought tea to the 
 terrace, and that (unfortunately) the ladies had 
 wakened, and would join them. But Van Delden 
 still slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 "Look at this poor little girl; she has been cry- 
 ing," Elspeth said, " and praying to the god. Ask 
 her why she is grieved, Dick. She is such a pretty 
 little thing! I am sure she has a story." 
 
 " Why do you grieve?" Dick said, looking round 
 then at Nami, crouching still by the stone lattice 
 shrine of the god. " Can we help you? Is any- 
 one ill?" 
 
 232 
 
To the Unknown God 
 
 " I do not know. I want no help. I pray to 
 the god." 
 
 " But your hadjis do not approve of that," Dick 
 said. "Axe you not Mohammedan?" 
 
 " Yes. No. I know not. Sometimes these 
 gods hear. It is true! I am told it. I pray — 
 I pray to have my husband back!" 
 
 " Who is your husband?" 
 
 But Nami shook her pretty head obstinately. 
 Redjo had no dealing with the white men, she 
 knew that. She would not say anything. 
 
 " She is a queer little thing. She won't tell 
 me anything," Dick said then, turning to Elspeth. 
 " Shall we go down now?" 
 
 They moved away, and Nami sat twisting up 
 her long hair. Then she replaced the little sacrifice 
 and thrust it within the stone lattice-work. 
 
 " If she enchanted him and made him go away, 
 may sorrow darken her!" she whispered, her face 
 pressed against the stone. " Oh, may sorrow 
 darken her, for ever and ever! Do you hear, 
 Buddha? Please listen, and please answer me!" 
 
 The child called to her softly then, and she took 
 him and put him in the slendang, walking care- 
 fully down the stone stairs, the gray pile behind 
 her. Her face softened at the sound of his voice. 
 Where should she go now? Home, to wait and 
 eat her heart out? Or on to the other temples of 
 
 233 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Brambanan? She could not make up her mind. 
 She stood on the terrace, a desolate little figure, 
 the boy half-asleep on her shoulder. All around 
 the great stone Buddhas seemed to watch and wait 
 under the hot, white light, benignant, unmoved. 
 Had they heard? Would they answer her? Alas! 
 she knew not. 
 
 234 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Man Proposes 
 
 " Miss Lavender, do you know that this is Christ- 
 mas-eve?" 
 
 "My dear, I had almost forgotten. To think 
 of it! I wonder what sort of weather they are 
 having at Drelinford?" 
 
 Miss Lavender put down her knitting and looked 
 up anxiously. 
 
 "Bad, I should say," Elspeth said. "It is 
 usually bad at the time when, by all historical 
 precedent, there ought to be snow and frost — an 
 old-fashioned Christmas - card Christmas! They 
 never make Christmas cards like that now — I 
 suppose because frosty Christmases seem to have 
 gone out — ^with stage-coaches and dear, romantic, 
 highway robberies! Dickens appears to have used 
 them all up! I wish I had lived in his day!" 
 
 " There will be the Christmas service," Miss 
 Lavender cogitated absently, " and the decorations. 
 I wonder who did the font? You and I took it last 
 year, Elspeth, and Horatio said we should not have 
 
 235 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 used all the white chrysanthemums. And Scott 
 was cross. Dear me! I wonder if Miss Sharpe 
 did it well? They say the new curate is distinctly 
 ritualistic, Elspeth; did I tell you? It must 
 worry Mr. Tubbs very much. He always talks 
 of matins, and vespers, and vestments. He will 
 have the whole parish by the ears! Drelinford 
 would never stand vestments!" 
 
 "Poor little Drelinford!" Elspeth said. "But 
 there is the dinner-gong, so let us go. Mr. Van 
 Delden ordered champagne from Djocya, and a 
 plum-pudding from Batavia — and there is Dick — " 
 
 She broke oflF, to stand absently at the window 
 for a moment, watching Dick, who was talking to 
 the Dutchman on the veranda steps. Somewhere 
 in the shadows beyond lurked the huge silent 
 square of the temple. When the moon rose fully 
 she meant to go out, by herself, and see it all 
 by moonlight. She must not let Dick see her 
 go — Dick with that new light in his face was 
 dangerous, — and she had rather go without Van 
 Delden too, kind though he was. Elspeth went 
 in to dinner, with a little piece of artificial holly 
 at her waistband, rather thoughtfully. 
 
 " I must say I miss the Christmas feeling!" Miss 
 Lavender remarked plaintively, when they were all 
 seated at table, " though I am sure it is very good 
 of you, Mr. Van Delden, to send for the goose; 
 
 236 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 and a goose is almost a turkey, or at least it is of 
 the same type of bird, of the same family, so to 
 say — not quite such a fat breast, and not so diffi- 
 cult to rear, I fancy. A turkey carves so much 
 more easily. My father always lost his temper 
 over a goose. Mrs. Hugh Price used to keep geese, 
 or was it turkeys? I remember her saying they 
 were a dreadful weight on her mind, and as hard 
 to bring up as a teething baby. I never thought 
 I should eat a Javanese goose. One never knows 
 what is in store for one. Are they of the same 
 family, Mr. Van Delden?" 
 
 " I know not. I think all geese alike," Van 
 Delden said. " The mandoer dreaded him severely, 
 and begged of me to chop the head myself. Yes, 
 he cuts badly, and he is of an horrible toughness. 
 I would need a hatchet for him, or a kris!" 
 
 " He has had so little time to — mellow," Elspeth 
 put in. "I saw the mandoer on the veranda in 
 the forenoon, with the goose under his arm, twist- 
 ing round its long neck every moment to stare 
 in his face! The mandoer addressed him in — high 
 Javanese at least. It sounded quite alarming!" 
 
 "And we eat him now. Dear me!" Miss 
 Lavender put on her glasses and stared at the 
 morsel on her plate. " I must tell Mrs. Smith 
 that— Mrs. Smith is our cook, Dick, and such a nice 
 woman, so particular to have everything tender. 
 
 237 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Staring the mandoer in the face in the forenoon, 
 and on our plates in a few hours! Mr. Tubbs 
 could make quite a nice little discourse out of that 
 — on the brevity of life, and its uncertainty!" 
 
 " I can hear Uncle Nat," Dick said. " It would 
 be quite in his line. A discourse on a goose, 
 by a-" 
 
 " You are not to mock Oom Tobbs, Dick," Van 
 Delden said. " I do not allow it. And here comes 
 the Scots haggis for Miss Macdonald. I order 
 him from the English shop in Batavia, and Dick 
 says he is an abominable concoction. He is alright, 
 I think, and is eaten with a glass of whisky poured 
 over his top and then set afire. So! Boy, fetch 
 me that bottle. It is the Scots custom, isn't it?" 
 
 " You are confusing it with the plum-pudding, 
 my friend," Dick said, grinning, while Elspeth with 
 difficulty prevented the host from pouring a huge 
 libation of Glenlivet over her plate. " Don't you 
 be so very detailed in your Scots customs or you'll 
 poison us all! You are getting a little mixed!" 
 
 "I know them well!" Van Delden cried indig- 
 nantly. "We had the Scots supper on board the 
 man-of-war on Scotland night, and M'Dermot told 
 us all about it. He laid the idea before us, and 
 we gave him the supper. There was haggis, and 
 a very great deal of whisky. He said it was the 
 custom of his nation — " 
 
 238 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 "To make someone else pay," Dick enquired 
 maliciously, "or to drink the whisky?" 
 
 " You will dry up your questions, if you please. 
 And he has recited ' Scots wha haver ' on the table 
 with his foot. You will see how I mean. I ex- 
 press it not quite right, I know." 
 
 " ' Scots wha haver ' is good," Dick said, the 
 haggis at last being removed. "Did you ever 
 hear that. Miss Macdonald?" 
 
 It was quite apparent that he required crushing. 
 
 "No. I only hear Englishmen haver," she re- 
 torted. "Miss Horatio, confess it was very good. 
 Father always sent to Edinburgh at Christmas- 
 time for haggis and shortbread." 
 
 " I think a small piece goes a long way, my 
 dear. But doubtless your father was, so to say, 
 acclimatized." 
 
 " I wish I have sent to Scotland for the short- 
 cake,-" Van Delden murmured regretfully. " I shall 
 do so next year." 
 
 "But we shall not be here next year." Miss 
 Lavender opened her eyes very widely. " We 
 shall be back in Drelinford. We are not going 
 to spend all our lives in Java, Mr. Van Delden." 
 
 " I wish you do," was the gallant rejoinder. 
 " When I think of the night you come, and Dick, 
 how he tears his hair and says, not knowing, that 
 his uncle, the Oom Tobbs, is a idiot-ass — " 
 
 239 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Van Delden, will you pass the wine?" Dick 
 burst in. What would the man say next? 
 
 " I say nothing that is shocking. He has merely 
 said that the idiot Oom Tobbs — " 
 
 " Look here, Van Delden, are you going to light 
 that pudding, or shall I?" 
 
 Which savage enquiry, accompanied by a vengeful 
 glare, had the effect of interrupting the narrative, 
 while Elspeth, with twinkling eyes, safely steered 
 the conversation into another direction. Miss 
 Horatio said after, that really Dick interrupted his 
 friend dreadfully; she wondered Mr. Van Delden 
 stood it. 
 
 The men went out to smoke after dinner, and 
 Elspeth stole away in the dark, the old ladies 
 chatting on Drelinford affairs over their coffee on 
 the veranda. 
 
 She did not wish to be followed just then; 
 she wanted to get away by herself to the great 
 silent temple, to think of it, and her father, and 
 Walter. 
 
 Her lover's last letter was in the pocket of her 
 thin white silk frock, the little cross Amice had 
 given her depending from its slender chain on her 
 neck, her only ornament. She sat down on the 
 highest terrace, after climbing- the worn stone 
 stairs, and she touched the letter as she thought 
 of Walter. It seemed a little bit of him near. 
 
 240 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 Perhaps by next Christmas she would be his 
 wife! 
 
 The golden gate of a young girl's imagining 
 opened then, the air rainbow -tinted, and she 
 passed with shining eyes into Love's dream- 
 paradise. The very words thrilled her. " His 
 wife!" He would let her share his life then, his 
 ambition, and his career! She could see him in 
 fancy in the House, in the attitude she knew so 
 well, his handsome face turned towards the 
 Speaker, that clear, cultured English voice pene- 
 trating up to the ladies' gallery: "I would wish 
 to draw the attention of the honourable member 
 for Slocum to the fact," &c. 
 
 " And then we will drive home together, and he 
 will tell me all the details. We will pass out of 
 the great square, and past the abbey, with Big Ben 
 behind us, and the beautiful windows still lit, th« 
 roar of London all around us! Oh, I think I shall 
 love London! Perhaps "Walter will be tired, and 
 I shall see that he is quiet in the little warm study 
 when we get home. There will be a big green velvet 
 chair; he used to like the one I gave Dad — " 
 
 Things grew a little confused then as she sat 
 with her white eyelids closed above her shining 
 eyes, and the warm, scented night-air fanning her 
 face. When she opened them the beauty of the 
 scene made her forget Walter for a moment. The 
 
 (B30) 241 Q 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 moon had risen. The mountains stood out against 
 a pale sky of wonderful opalescence; the sharp- 
 edged leaves of a solitary cocoa-nut palm in the 
 foreground looked as if cut out in silver. The 
 temple seemed a dream-temple of the dark, so old, 
 so weary, that she felt as if it were part of the past, 
 that it had no share in the sunlight and warmth of 
 garish to-day. Night and dark were of its spirit; 
 silertce, mystery, moonlight, the soft sigh of the 
 night wind. The dim shadowy faces of the circle 
 of Buddhas within their niches gazed at her 
 solemnly over their folded hands, almost with a 
 look of benediction. A little breeze softly rustled 
 the green fern-fronds in the hideous gargoyles on 
 the terrace- wall above; here and there a fire-fly 
 pricked the velvety black, or, alighting on the 
 lotus-flowers, gleamed and flickered there like fairy 
 lights. From the far -distant sky there emerged 
 suddenly, with swift, secret flight, a huge bat, 
 part of the night, vanishing above the dome into 
 inky darkness, even as Elspeth raised her head. 
 
 Then the moon seemed to sail slowly across the 
 sky, bringing out all the ghostly Buddhas seated 
 (or fallen) below. Many had been left as they had 
 fallen. Elspeth felt surrounded, shadowed, by the 
 beneficent faces, the great kind arms of the old 
 temple. 
 
 " I could sit here all night," she said to herself. 
 
 242 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 "It is an unforgettable night. I do not wonder 
 the natives come here to think and pray. It is an 
 abode of peace. I wonder if my father — " 
 
 "You seat yourself on cold stone, isn't it?" a 
 voice said then, as Van Delden turned the corner. 
 " Is that wise? I think it not. I fear you catch 
 cold." 
 
 " Nothing is cold here," she said, smUing. " Has 
 Miss Bouverie been asking for me?" 
 
 " Oh, no! They sit stUl and chatter. They tell 
 us you had come here. I left Dick smoking by 
 himself I have something of importance to say, 
 and I hid from him that I followed you. You wUl 
 pardon me that?" 
 
 His tone was so grave that Elspeth began to ask 
 herself if she had offended him. 
 
 " That sounds like a scolding," she said. " It 
 makes me think of my high-school mistress. Did 
 I not eat enough haggis?" 
 
 "You eat what you please, and always what is 
 right." Van Delden was leaning against the bas- 
 relief, the arm of his dinner-coat resting lightly on 
 a huge elephant with bearer and carriage, and he 
 looked down at her with eager eyes. "You do 
 ever what is perfect! Miss Elspeth, teU me — I 
 know not how to say it — how do the men of 
 Scotland propose it? I have asked Dick, and he 
 is of no more help than a dunder-head!" 
 
 243 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Propose?" Elspeth uttered blankly. " Propose 
 what?" 
 
 " To the lady they honour above all others and 
 love. To the lady they would matrimonially pro- 
 pose. How do you say it? Oh, Dick was of no 
 help! He was a great silly ass!" 
 
 Elspeth, staring wildly, was conscious of an 
 hysterical desire to laugh. When Van Delden 
 meant to be rapid, and at ease, he was always 
 more than usually slangy. And yet — he was so 
 dreadfully in earnest, he was almost pale. His 
 hair was more wildly erect than ever. 
 
 " Perhaps he did not know," she murmured. 
 " I think they do it — like other men, Mr. Van 
 Delden. But, oh, please don't!" 
 
 " If you tell me to don't, I don't," he cried 
 eagerly. " But you will not tell me. I cannot 
 dry up. It is impossible. That, I hope, is not 
 slang, for Dick has told me I should not say 
 'shut up' to ladies; that 'dry up' was more 
 formal. I love you. I ask you to stay in Java 
 and be my wife. I would live only to make you 
 happy. I go on to be an administrator. My 
 uncle has given me the promise of one of his 
 mills. And for you I would spend all the 
 world." 
 
 "It is very good of you." Elspeth was really 
 distressed, and all the laughter died out of her 
 
 244 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 eyes. "Very good! You have been more than 
 kind to us all. But I am already engaged. I 
 am so sorry. I thought you knew." 
 
 " No, I know not. Your affection already 
 engaged? Ah, I say no more! And to an 
 Englishman?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He waited, his head bent for a moment, one 
 hand clenched, his pleasant face growing stern 
 and cold. It is not easy to lay down high hopes, 
 to see before one, wilted and dead, the flower 
 of a hope that had sprung up tall and strong. 
 
 But Van Delden came of a brave and a strong 
 race. One that faces trouble. 
 
 He squared his shoulders resolutely as he looked 
 up. He even tried to render his voice cheerful 
 and commonplace. 
 
 " I say no more," he said then. " It is not 
 to be, and I bear it as I can. I can only ask 
 you to make no difiierence, to forget how I 
 speak." 
 
 " I was going to beg you that favour," she said, 
 and stood up beside him holding out her white 
 hand. "You will be my friend still? Always?" 
 
 "You wish it?" 
 
 "Indeed I do!" 
 
 He stooped suddenly and pressed his lips to 
 her hand. " I could be nothing else. If a friend 
 
 245 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 is ever wanted, you remember me. I come from 
 the ends of the earth to England, to Europe. 
 And so that is alright, isn't it?" 
 
 " Quite all right," Elspeth said. There was 
 almost a tremor in her voice. 
 
 She asked him to fetch her a light wrap 
 presently, saying she wanted to pay a last visit 
 to the dome, and he went down the steep steps 
 slowly and rather dully. Elspeth looked after 
 him. How light had been the step when he came 
 up. It was such a pity, such a pity! She had 
 never dreamt of this. Van Delden, too! And 
 Dick, Dick also! "As if I could ever love anyone 
 but Walter," she said to herself, " or he me. 
 Neither of us could ever change." 
 
 The night breeze sighed a little at that, whisper- 
 ing with an eerie echo around the terrace. Away 
 in the distance the solitary figure of a native was 
 crossing the moonlit plain. Elspeth felt suddenly 
 alone and lonely. A curious presentiment of evil 
 seemed to possess her and chill her. 
 
 " I wish he had not come. I wish I had gone 
 in," she said to herself, and then stood with her 
 hand on the terrace looking away to the mountains. 
 She was too tender-hearted not to feel with a dull 
 ache the stabbing of this kind heart. 
 
 " Dick, you take this to Miss Elspeth. She 
 
 246 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 is there on the terrace," Van Delden said, going 
 up to his friend, who was smoking on the veranda 
 still. " It is over and done." 
 
 " What is over and done? The goose?" 
 
 Dick looked round with a start. He was think- 
 ing of other things. 
 
 " What I have told you. I pray you not to 
 gibber folly." 
 
 " I don't know what you are talking about! 
 You tell me a great many things. What is over? 
 The dinner? The haggis?" 
 
 " Do not a great fool be!" 
 
 " Look here. Van Delden — " 
 
 " I know! It is the language of the engine- 
 room, perhaps, but it is a relief to the mind when 
 the heart bleeds. I have asked you how a man 
 proposes. I asked you before we came here, and 
 all since then I struggled to tell her." 
 
 " And you did to-night?" 
 
 Beresford was grave at once. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And she said — " 
 
 Dick turned round, his voice rather unsteady. 
 
 " Her affections are engaged to another man. 
 She confesses with the red colour in her face — " 
 He looked away for a moment. " Dick, old chap, 
 I think he is you. I — ^think so. And the devil 
 been in me, and I could scarcely tell you. 
 
 247 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 He has tempted me to hide it and say nothing; 
 but I could not. You are my friend, and she is 
 up there." 
 
 Dick had leapt to his feet. He took the other's 
 hand and wrung it hard. " You are the best 
 fellow in the world, Van Delden. But, oh! can 
 it be?" 
 
 " Go and ask her. There is her shawl." 
 
 " Van Delden, I — oh, it seems too glad, too 
 impossible! You are a brick!" 
 
 " Dry up," said Van Delden, " or I wring your 
 silly neck! I can stand no more." 
 
 Dick went without another word. 
 
 He felt as if his feet were winged. Was it 
 possible? Possible that she had allowed that she 
 cared for him? It seemed incredible. Was it 
 only Van Delden's imagining? 
 
 He paused on the lower terrace, hesitating by 
 a fallen Buddha which stared before it steadily, 
 immovably; could it be true? He feared to put 
 his fate to the touch, and yet — if she had allowed 
 that — if he had only to put out his hand for this 
 great and overwhelming gift? 
 
 He started again, and passing quickly by the 
 silent terrace and up the steep stone stairs, saw 
 her standing there, her figure flooded in moonlight, 
 her sweet face turned to the great plain below, 
 
 248 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 with the solitary cocoa-nut palms and the great 
 silent mountains beyond. His heart seemed to leap 
 into his mouth suddenly, his blood coursed wildly 
 through his veins, he was by her side in a moment, 
 almost before he knew. Yet he could scarcely 
 frame words. 
 
 Elspeth looked up as if in surprise. But the 
 eager haste, the wild glad hope of his look seemed 
 to bewilder her, and she put out her hand in- 
 voluntarily as if to ward off something. 
 
 "Don't, Dick, don't!" she said. Then they 
 stood looking at each other. It was quite enough. 
 The light died from his face, as a lamp is blown 
 out from behind a casement. It was not true. 
 So does not speak the voice of love. Oh, why 
 had he ever hoped? 
 
 " I came — I may as well tell you," broke from 
 him then. " I would never have dared to hope, 
 but Van Delden said — he misunderstood — he said 
 you cared for someone, an Englishman. I should 
 have known I was a fool." 
 
 It was all very breathless and incoherent and 
 despairing, and not quite like Dick's impassive 
 self. 
 
 Yet somehow he had her hands in his, and the 
 girl's kind eyes were so pitiful that half his bitter 
 pain seemed to soften. 
 
 " I do care for someone," she said softly and 
 
 249 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 sadly. " I thought, all this time, that Miss Bou- 
 verie had told you, that you knew. I am engaged 
 to Walter Herbert. He is in the House. "We are 
 to be married, I think, when I return. Oh, Dick, 
 I am so sorry!" 
 
 " You could not help it," he said then, trying to 
 smile. "And it was all a mistake. After all it 
 does not do me any harm. A man's love for a 
 girl like you could not do him anything but good." 
 
 He let her hand go then, her soft white hand; 
 he stood silent beside her, his head a little bent. 
 His lips were locked, his look bent. 
 
 " I wish I had never come to Java," Elspeth 
 cried, " if I have only brought you heart-ache!" 
 
 "No; don't say that. I can't wish not to have 
 seen you." He looked up. " You would understand 
 if you had loved someone who did not love you. 
 It is surely the bitterest pain on earth, and yet we 
 would not part with our love." 
 
 They stood a moment looking out over the moon- 
 lit plain, and then Elspeth turned to go. 
 
 " I have spoiled your Christmas - eve, Dick." 
 They must get back to the plains and common- 
 place levels of life, she thought desperately. That 
 would perhaps help him. 
 
 He did not answer, only held out his hand with 
 a sudden smile. "And I have never wished you 
 well. All possible luck and happiness! An M.P., 
 
 250 
 
HE STOOD SILENT BESIDE HER, HIS HEAD A LITTLE BENT' 
 
Man Proposes 
 
 a very clever fellow, of course, and you will like 
 the life — and London. By and by this will seem 
 all a dream," he waved his hand round, trying to 
 speak lightly ; " the temple, and the Buddhas, and 
 the two poor fellows, both in the same box, who 
 loved you. But," he turned to her suddenly, the 
 moonlight shining on his closely -cropped curly 
 head, " we need not stop being friends, and I 
 shall always pray God bless you!" 
 
 "Thank you, Dick!" 
 
 They went down the stone steps together, and 
 past the long rows of the silent figures, then into 
 the light of the veranda, where Miss Lavender 
 roused from a long doze, and Miss Horatio looked 
 up from her knitting. 
 
 " Why, my child, were you there all alone in that 
 ghostly place?" she asked; and Elspeth shook her 
 head. Dick had gone off to the inner room, where 
 he found Van Delden writing a letter, very hot 
 and very dejected. 
 
 They looked up and their eyes met. 
 
 " Well?" Van Delden said. "Is it the English way 
 that says nothing when another man would laugh 
 and sing? Or is it my mistake? If so I bow 
 myself in the dust." 
 
 " Your mistake and mine, Herman," Dick said. 
 "She is, not for either of us. She is engaged to 
 marry an M.P. in London. A clever chap. I 
 
 251 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 suppose a big wig. She deserves someone very 
 good!" 
 
 "I would wish his neck to wring; and I know 
 not what a P.M. is," the other observed gloomily 
 and shortly. And then he carefully lit a cigar. 
 " Tobacco, at all events, is left," he said, " and is 
 balm to the broken heart. There is also whisky- 
 soda." 
 
 Dick said nothing. He did not try either pana- 
 cea. He went out and stood looking up at the 
 ruined steps of the great temple, the terrace where 
 he had stood by her side and hoped — for one brief 
 moment. 
 
 252 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Ldon's Rescue 
 
 When Eedjo awoke, from what seemed a weary 
 dream of pain, he was conscious of tlie long high 
 drone of a native voice outside the hut in which 
 he lay, and of a narrow ray of light which fell 
 through a crevice of the wall upon his hands. Very 
 thin hands, oddly thin, and they felt dry and hot. 
 He could not remember at first what had happened, 
 and then he slowly raised himself on the cotton 
 refuse on which he lay, and looked about him. As 
 he did so a woman's figure darkened the hut, and 
 Eascila stood before him. He almost shrank from 
 I her, but she stood looking at him not unkindly. 
 
 " Lie down," she said in Javanese. " You are 
 better. You have been very sick." 
 
 "Yes; you stabbed me!" 
 
 " I made a mistake," she said coolly. " I thought 
 I heard the voice of a white man, and I made sure 
 you were coming to steal the child. When I saw 
 you were Nami's husband, I was sorry. What 
 language did you talk to the child? From what 
 
 253 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 part of Java do you come? or is it some new 
 language of the Dutchman that you speak?" 
 
 "How could it be?" he said weakly. "You 
 know it is forbidden to learn or speak the language 
 of the Dutch." 
 
 " Then I made a mistake. I am sorry. I got 
 a man who knows all herbs and leaves from the 
 dessa above, and he healed you. He sewed up the 
 wound. It heals nicely. In a day or two you will 
 be well. You fevered and raved in your strange 
 language; that is why you are long ill. Drink this." 
 
 She raised his head and gave him something to 
 drink. Later she brought him rice, and a kind of 
 thin soup, which he took eagerly. Already thoughts 
 and schemes were passing through his mind. 
 
 After all, his wound might not be a bad thing. 
 She had evidently lost fear of him, though he 
 puzzled her. By and by, when he was stronger, 
 it was quite possible he might be able to steal the 
 child and slip away. So he lay and dozed and 
 thought, till the hot day faded, and in the cool he 
 felt stronger. By and by, when the natives were 
 eating their supper, and now and then a dark face 
 passed the hut, and would look in inquisitively, he 
 heard Leon's voice, and presently Eascila appeared 
 carrying him in her slendang. The boy was eating 
 a large piece of Indian corn, and seemed content 
 enough. Kedjo was not afraid of their being 
 
 251 
 
Ldon's Rescue 
 
 unkind to him, but when Eascila put him down by 
 the mat he saw she had used a dye, and his skin 
 and face were now as dark as her own. Against 
 the bronze hue the fair hair fell in tangled curls. 
 Poor Madame! Redjo thought of her with new 
 courage, a new determination. 
 
 He rose on his elbow again and pointed to the 
 child. 
 
 " Why did you take him?" 
 
 " Because the tuan besar had been very cruel 
 and wicked, and the boy they love better than 
 anything in the world! And — he is just the age 
 of my grandchild who died — ^just the age. When 
 I wake at nights, and look — he might be my boy. 
 My arms are full." 
 
 " But the nonjah besar? She weeps very much." 
 
 " She must weep ! White women have every- 
 thing. She will get something else, by and by — 
 perhaps another child. She would not beg for my 
 husband. Say no more." 
 
 She turned away then, curtly, and as he was 
 half-afraid to rouse her suspicion still, he said 
 nothing. Only by and by, when she left the hut, 
 he beckoned to L^on. 
 
 "Are they good to you?" 
 
 " I want to go home," the boy whispered. " Will 
 you take me home? I do not like to stay here as a 
 native. Oh, please take me home to my mother!" 
 
 255 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Hush! I will try," Eedjo said. "But say 
 nothing. Only wait." 
 
 Days and nights followed after this, and he was 
 slowly gaining strength. He was very careful, and 
 he tried not to rouse Kascila's suspicion by word or 
 sign. Gradually she began to trust him, and would 
 even leave the child with hina. ^^etimes he 
 heard her talking to the others. She heard of the 
 search going on below. People had been up en- 
 quiring at the passang grahan, but there they 
 had successfully lied, and a false clue had led the 
 searchers to the Madura country — a wild place 
 where it was dangerous to go, and where the people 
 were fierce and lawless. She would laugh then, 
 and say L^on would be hers always-^er grandson ! 
 By and by he would forget K^bdme; and ,ep.ea]j 
 only the language of the Ja,vanese. He would: be 
 a Javanese. 
 
 Kedjo had also, by slow degrees, laid by a little 
 store of rice and dried meat, secreting always some- 
 thing from his daily meal, for he had given Kascila 
 a little money, and she grudged him nothing. At 
 nights, too, he tried his strength, and she made no 
 objection to his leaving the hut and walking about. 
 He waited patiently, till at last there was to be a 
 great slamatan (feast) at a dessa some distance 
 off, and then Rascila announced her intention of 
 being gone all night A friend was to take charge 
 
 256 
 
Ldon's Rescue 
 
 of the boy; he hated the native music, and cried 
 and protested. And it was to be a great slamatang, 
 with dancers from the plains, and much beautiful 
 eating. Also she had a new sarong and a velvet 
 badju. This, Redjo knew, was his chance. 
 
 He had his little store of rice in his bundle. He 
 had managed to buy a rude covering from a native. 
 He would c£OTy L^on when he could, and the boy 
 was well grown and healthy and could walk con- 
 siderable distances. Yet he felt almost guilty when 
 EascUa looked in the last thing before starting — 
 flowery in her^hair, and many brass pins; a new 
 saroag, a wonderful red velvet badju. She kissed 
 L^on many times, and told him all she would bring 
 him on the morrow — rice balls rolled in fried cocoa- 
 nut, and Chinese sweets, and, best of all, some 
 fireworks! Ai^d^then she glanced at Redjo, appa- 
 rently half-asleep in the inner room. He would not 
 be disturbed, she said; she would be home on the 
 next forenoon. And L^on knew him and would 
 not cry. He nodded laconically and she went 
 away. He waited tUl almost midnight. 
 
 The other woman was sound asleep on the floor, 
 by Ldon's rude bed, when he stole out presently, 
 and lifted the boy, pulling on his little native jacket, 
 and holding up a warning finger when Leon roused 
 sleepily. He slipped out quite safely, the woman 
 never having stirred, and he made his way by the 
 (B30) 257 B 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 back of the huts through a thicket of bamboo to 
 the edge of the village. Nearly all the dessa had 
 gone to the slamatang; it was the marriage of the 
 daughter of the wedonna (native magistrate), and 
 the place was wrapped in silence. He would walk 
 as far as he could that night, and then hide himself 
 by day in a little cave he knew of in the rocks near 
 the Lost Waterfall. 
 
 Everything turned out just as he expected, and 
 he did not enter the cave till there was brilliant 
 sunshine. They had travelled fast and safely. 
 Eascila would scarcely be home, and in any case, 
 no one, he thought, knew of this place. He had 
 come across it in his search for orchids, long ago, 
 and tough tendrils and strange plants grew right 
 across the opening. So he judged it still undis- 
 covered. There they could have food and water, 
 and could sleep till the friendly dark came again. 
 The boy was tired, and slept heavily after eating, 
 and Eedjo lay down beside him, weak and footsore. 
 
 He was sound asleep, when he was wakened by 
 voices passing above him — Rascila's in an angry 
 shriek. The thief must have reached the plain 
 already, she wailed! Oh, if she had only struck 
 deeper and deeper when she had the chance! If 
 only she could see him now! 
 
 L^on, waking with the sound of her voice, lay 
 and looked at his friend as if terrified, Redjo's 
 
 258 
 
Leon's Rescue 
 
 finger motioning silence. There were others with 
 Rascila. They would have short shrift, he knew, if 
 they were found ! But the voices passed on, and the 
 wayfarers slept again after a little, though Redjo's 
 sleep was broken and rather troubled. The woman's 
 fierce and malignant voice haunted him. He knew 
 that he and Nami would have to leave that part of 
 Java, even if he were successful in restoring the 
 boy. Somehow, Eascila's vengeance would reach 
 him! He had committed an unforgiveable crime; 
 he had eaten her salt, and robbed her! Well, they 
 could go ! Madame's haunted eyes would be happy; 
 he would have paid her back. She had saved his 
 little lad; had given him back to his father. And 
 if vengeance did reach him? Was death so very 
 dreadful a thought? Sometimes he had longed for 
 it, so that he need no longer remember. 
 
 He waited till it was quite dark again, and then 
 stole gently out, hearing the roar of the fall below, 
 and the secret rush of the hidden stream under the 
 rocks. It was cooler now, but it was not quite so 
 dark as before, and above, the Slamat was unusually 
 bright, a steady red flame rising from its summit 
 into the pale-blue sky. They went very slowly 
 and warily — starting at shadows, often hiding 
 amongst the bamboos and sugar -palms. L^on 
 played with the red leaves and chattered. Redjo 
 had to carry the boy a good part of the way. Once 
 
 2.59 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the child got a thorn in his foot. Sometimes Eedjo 
 wondered if he would faint and fall by the road- 
 side. Danger, too, increased as they neared the 
 foot of the mountain, for there was less brushwood, 
 and if Eascila had managed to communicate her 
 story, he might come across unfriendly natives 
 there. He was worn and ghastly by the time he 
 could see the plain close, just before dawn, and 
 his wound, insufficiently healed, and strained by 
 the boy's weight, had begun to bleed again. But 
 he toiled on, staunching it as well as he could, 
 and when dawn broke he saw, to his joy, that he 
 was near the house of the native wedonna — an 
 upright and educated native, who, he knew, would 
 stand his friend. He had come out at the very 
 best place! That gave him strength for the final 
 few yards. As he went down the last and steepest 
 piece of the path, he could see that a travelling- 
 carriage had. just been led out by three grooms 
 before the house. L^on was sleeping heavily in 
 his arms, and. Eedjo almost staggered as he at last 
 reached the gate, and stood leaning dizzily against 
 it. Even thought was growing laboured. As he 
 stood, a woman's figure in a light travelling-dress 
 came out on the veranda, and turned her pale face 
 up to the great mountain with a look of inexpress- 
 ible agony and yearning. 
 
 " Is he there? Is he there? Oh, where is he?" 
 
 260 
 
L6on's Rescue 
 
 Redjo turned and knew her, and a flood of joy 
 filled his heart — a strange suflFusion of happiness 
 which irradiated his face. He moved across the 
 intervening space and she turned her head. But 
 he was so changed, so thin and worn and haggard, 
 that she did not seem to know him — nor did she 
 recognize, in the little dark fiice pressed against him, 
 her lost darling. 
 
 Eedjo reached her side, and then stood looking 
 up at her, a faint smUe on his lips. 
 
 "Nonjah," he said faintly. 
 
 "Eedjo! You! And no word, no sign? Oh, 
 my God, my last hope is gone!" 
 
 He turned the child round, and all the tumbled 
 curls of fair hair fell around the sleeping face. 
 The sweet red lips moved as the warm little 
 sleeper stirred. 
 
 " He is here," Eedjo said. 
 
 A wild, pealing cry, which brought the wedonna 
 and Monsieur Disselhof outside, with a little group 
 of baboes and servants. They saw Madame on her 
 knees with a little native boy pressed to her heart. 
 Eedjo, weak, dizzy, his badju stained with red, 
 had fallen unconscious at her feet. But it was the 
 best moment of his Ufe. 
 
 261 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 The Floods Come 
 
 Nothing, of course, had been said to the old ladies 
 after their return, and Van Delden and Beresford 
 did their best to resume their normal manner and 
 avoid all sign of awkwardness. Miss Horatio 
 waited as patiently as she could for the list of the 
 English who had died in Java, but it was long in 
 coming. Miss Lavender was busy with her notes 
 and diary. 
 
 " You see, Elspeth, dear, I forget so many 
 occurrences," she said. " And I am certain to mix 
 them up. I forget what we did, and what we only 
 read about. And it is all so dream-like. So I am 
 writing everything down. I might find myself 
 telling one of Mr. Van Delden's stories as if it. had 
 occurred to me." 
 
 " I would not do that," Elspeth interpolated 
 hastily. " You would be like George the Fourth. 
 He talked about it so often that he always believed 
 at last that he had fought at Waterloo." 
 
 " And did he not, Elspeth?" 
 
 262 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 "Not except in his mind's eye. But, being a 
 Eoyal fancy, of course, nobody dared contradict 
 him." 
 
 It was the time of the rains, and things seemed 
 to have quietened down a little at the mdl. The 
 tropical storms kept even Elspeth within doors, 
 and the lodgie was not to be occupied for a few 
 days yet. News of Leon's recovery had, of course, 
 reached them, but no particulars. Madame had 
 stayed on in Samarang to see a nerve specialist, 
 though her return was daily expected. She had 
 merely written to Elspeth that Redjo had brought 
 back the child, but afterwards mysteriously disap- 
 peared, and she had never been able to thank him. 
 
 Dick came into the veranda one day about 
 lunch-time, to find the ladies assembled there 
 eagerly waiting for his arrival. It was mail-day, and 
 Elspeth had been singing softly to herself all day, 
 her spirits high enough to withstand the gloom 
 and the sullen, persistent hiss of the lashing rain 
 on the corrugated-iron roof of the veranda. For 
 two weeks' letters were due from Walter, and there 
 were her father's also. Miss Horatio expected her 
 steward's reports on the estate, and Miss Tibbits's 
 account of all the alphabetical societies. It was 
 nearly time to hear of the Christmas-tree for the 
 Y.W.C.A., and the teas for the "Young Endea- 
 vourers" and school children. 
 
 263 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 But Dick looked round him rather gravely as 
 he entered, one solitary and very wet newspaper 
 under his arm, though he tried hard to smile. He 
 did not look at Elspeth. All the way walking 
 home through the torrents he had told himself her 
 letters were gone. He thought chiefly of her. 
 
 "Dick, the letters?" 
 
 " I am awfully sorry. Very, very sorry. But 
 they are lost! 
 
 "Lost!" 
 
 " Yes. The postman was bringing them across 
 the river, and it is fearfully high. No boat could 
 cross safely, for the floods are coming down badly 
 from the hills, and he should have taken a dog-cart 
 and driven round. But they are so lazy. It 
 seemed easier to trust to the hemp and bamboo 
 rope, which, you know, is stretched across the 
 river. But the flood washed over it, and every- 
 thing was dashed out of the boat. The men were 
 rescued clinging to the prow, but the letters are 
 gone. I have ofiered a reward, and we will hope 
 they will be cast up somewhere. Only, as yet 
 nothing has been found except this paper." 
 
 " How extremely vexing! It was the day for all 
 the reports. And the paper with Mr. Tubbs's 
 address. Oh, dear me!" 
 
 Elspeth said nothing. Two letters of Walter's. 
 And the last had been so short — she had been so 
 
 264 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 hungry for more. Her heart had ached as she 
 counted the days. Dick did not look at her as he 
 sat down by the table. 
 
 " I'll go over after tea, Miss Lavender, and see if 
 there is any news. But the river is flooding the 
 banks. I'm almost afraid for some of the native 
 huts. And, indeed, if the river goes on rising, I 
 think you ladies must go to the lodgie." 
 
 " You don't mean it would come as far as 
 this?" 
 
 " It did once," Dick said; and then he saw his 
 friend approaching under a huge Javanese um- 
 brella. Van Delden came up and gave his um- 
 brella to his boy. " Van Delden, I was saying, if 
 the flood goes on like this the ladies had better go 
 to the lodgie. It stands high. We don't want 
 them to be flooded out." 
 
 " The rain will not rise more," Van Delden said. 
 " And Madame has not yet returned. It makes 
 a horrible noise. I hear not myself speak. And 
 now I go to change. You also, Dick. You are 
 a silly ass, isn't it? to sit there and be in all one 
 damp sop!" 
 
 "You certainly are — I mean it is very unwise," 
 Miss Lavender interpolated hastily. " Get up at 
 once, Dick, and go and change. Mr. Van Delden 
 is quite right." 
 
 Beresford went ofi" then in silence. The two 
 
 265 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 men had to go back to the mill soon after ryst- 
 tafel, and they were so late in returning that their 
 guests had gone to bed. Miss Lavender said the 
 monotony of the rain made her sleepy. Elspeth 
 had been quiet and disappointed all day, and Miss 
 Horatio unusually taciturn. The rain still fell in 
 sheets. 
 
 Dick sat down, very tired, in the veranda after 
 changing his things again, and stretched out his 
 hand for a light. 
 
 " I almost think we should have taken them to 
 the lodgie, Herman," he began. " The water is 
 certainly rising. And Madame would not mind." 
 
 " But you and I would mind," Van Delden said 
 gloomily. " If they go there, Madame keeps 
 them, and we see them no more. The days will 
 go as it is. She talks, the old lady, of leaving 
 after the wet season. And then we see them no 
 more again. We see her never again." 
 
 His friend was silent for a little. 
 
 " She is quiet all day, and does not smile, and is 
 pale. She loses his letters," Van Delden resumed; 
 " and I saw his letter last time — the outside I 
 mean, — and it was short, so short! but one page 
 merely! I see her read it, unknown. And she 
 looks sorrowful, and bites her lip. So! I curse 
 that letter, that makes her sad, and is but one 
 brief page! I curse it!" 
 
 266 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 " Well, don't do it so loud," Dick said. "You will 
 waken them. Swear mentally, if you must swear. 
 I don't say I don't feel inclined to do it myself. 
 Perhaps he was in a hurry." 
 
 " In a hurry! To write to her? Is it the way 
 you will treat a girl like that? Is that the English 
 cool way to love?" 
 
 " I don't know," Dick said testUy, his nerves 
 rather unstrung. " I don't know anything about 
 him. He is an M.P., and I suppose has the 
 weight of the British Empire on his shoulders. 
 It's a great thing the Empire. Humble folk like 
 you and me, Herman — " 
 
 "If he treats her badly, I would wish to kill 
 him!" Van Delden cried. " I asked Miss Lavender 
 what he was like, and she described him to me. It 
 sounded like a wax doll. But I talk no more of 
 him. I overheat myself in so doing, and I do not 
 reach him. I would wish to box with him, and 
 give him one good crack. But you do not read 
 your paper. Ha is damp still." 
 
 " I did look at it," Dick said. " I see there is a 
 notice of my old uncle's death. The admiral. There 
 it is." 
 
 Van Delden, to divert his thoughts, took the 
 paper and read the paragraph aloud: "'At Coombe- 
 Royal, Hants, on the 13th inst.. Admiral Sir George 
 Beresford, K.C.B., in his 75th year.' Your uncle? 
 
 267 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 And he has sons? You weep for him, or not? 
 or is he as the Oom Tobbs? He thrash you as a 
 boy, and you bear his loss without the tears?" 
 
 " No, he didn't thrash me. He never saw me, 
 to have any chance. Poor old chap! He was a 
 good deal at sea. And I fancy he had trouble with 
 his sons. I believe he had a nice place in Hamp- 
 shire. But he never took any notice of me. I 
 imagine he fancied Uncle Tubbs looked after me, 
 and he and Uncle Tubbs had a row once. He was 
 a fiery old boy, with a sailor's picturesque power 
 of language; and Uncle Tubbs is worthy, but 
 narrow as a knife-blade. I'm sorry the admiral is 
 gone, though I never saw him, and indeed wonder 
 at them even sending me the notice, or knowing 
 anything about me. I always thought I'd look 
 him up when I went back, or if ever I went 
 back. After all, he was of my own blood. Now 
 I'm a kind of pelican in the wilderness. Well, I'm 
 off to bed." 
 
 "And I too; I die of sleep." 
 
 Van Delden went and peered into the dark of 
 the garden for a moment, but he could see nothing 
 but the straight descent of the rain. He seemed 
 a trifle uneasy for a moment. If the water went 
 on rising — but it would not; he was too sleepy to 
 think of more, or follow out the contingency. 
 
 Nevertheless the rain, left to itself, steadily 
 
 268 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 descended and steadily increased in volume. The 
 flood grew momently worse, till at last the river- 
 bank gave way, and a great muddy stream, burst- 
 ing all bounds and recognizing no obstacles, swept 
 all before it. It came pouring down the road, and 
 made free to enter Van Delden's garden. There it 
 lapped and gurgled, high and higher, till the 
 veranda steps were reached and overtopped, and 
 then it slid lightly into the gallery, and through 
 the slender Singapore doors of the bed-rooms. 
 
 Miss Lavender, dreaming of home and of the 
 Christmas-tree to the " Young Endeavourers", was 
 wrapped in balmy slumber, as pure and light as a 
 baby's. She fancied herself seated at the upper 
 end of the church-room, with Mr. and Mrs. Tubbs 
 and the curate's wife, and Mr. Tubbs was address- 
 ing the hot and sticky children with his usual 
 wide and beaming smile. There were great plates 
 of buns and rivers of weak tea everywhere. 
 
 " My dear children," he said, " it is now time to 
 go home, but first we must endeavour to thank the 
 givers of this party. We will cheer, and cheer our 
 best. They have come from far, they have been 
 as strangers in a strange land, but Miss Lavender 
 and Miss Horatio have never forgotten their friends 
 at Drelinford. Miss Lavender will now tell you a 
 story about a tiger, which I know will interest 
 you all." 
 
 269 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "But I — I never saw a tiger. It is quite a 
 mistake." 
 
 " Miss Lavender will now tell you her story of 
 the tiger," Mr. Tubbs insisted sternly. " I insist 
 upon her doing so. She will scarcely refuse the 
 Head of the parish." 
 
 "Oh, very well!" the poor lady cried tearfully; 
 " I could invent one, or tell Mr. Van Delden's. But 
 Elspeth said — What is it, Elspeth? He says I 
 must tell it." 
 
 Was someone calling to her? She turned round 
 sharply and buried her head on the pillow. She 
 would not tell the tiger story! She wanted to 
 sleep. 
 
 " Miss Lavender ! Miss Lavender!" 
 
 " I think it rather persistent of Mr, Tubbs," she 
 said, looking up; " for I must say firmly that I did 
 not see a tiger. Oh, my goodness gracious, Dick! 
 What do you want? I thought you were in 
 Java!" 
 
 "So we are — we both are, worse luck!" Dick 
 said. " Miss Lavender, I'm awfully sorry, but the 
 flood has come. It's in the house." 
 
 " In the house! Oh, my goodness, so it is!" 
 
 Miss Lavender sat up and stared wildly. " You 
 are up to your knees! Dick, it isn't dangerous, 
 is it?" 
 
 She looked up in terror, relieved to see that he 
 
 270 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 looked perfectly calm in spite of his watery sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 "No, I don't think it can come much higher," 
 he said, " it must have such a wide surface to go 
 over now, but I want to take you over to the 
 lodgie. You must let me carry you. I've put a 
 ladder up to the roof, in case it gets worse, for 
 Miss Macdonald, and then I'll come back for her. 
 She's awfully plucky. She is laughing. Van Delden 
 has taken Miss Horatio. I could not make you 
 hear, and I would not let Miss Macdonald wade 
 across to you." 
 
 The little lady, sitting up in bed, blinked her 
 eyes in much bewilderment and distress. " I must 
 put something on, Dick. I can't be seen like 
 this." 
 
 " You will get everything at the lodgie. But if 
 you had a dressing-gown or a cloak. The wardrobe 
 will be damp—" 
 
 " There is my tussore cloak, and that white dress- 
 ing-gown in the cupboard. Oh, thank you, Dick! 
 Fancy being dressed by you! It reminds me of 
 poor dear Mary Queen of Scots going to execution, 
 or was it Lady Jane Grey? You know she made a 
 little sad joke about never being accustomed to 
 such rough tire-women — though I don't mean that 
 you are rough, Dick, far from it. There! and I 
 will just pin up my hair. The water is nearly at 
 
 271 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the edge of the bed ! Oh, Dick, I shall be a most 
 dreadful weight! I do wish I had learned to skate 
 — to swim, I mean." 
 
 " You are as light as a feather," Dick said. 
 "Please put your arms round my neck. So! I 
 hope it feels not so very uncomfortable?" 
 
 " Indeed it does not. I was never carried by a 
 — by a man before. But you do it very nicely, 
 Dick; you really do." 
 
 Dick carried her out into the gallery. There, by 
 the light of the tall standard lamp, which was 
 never allowed to go out, she could see Elspeth, in 
 her white dressing-gown, perched on a chair on her 
 bed. The fair sweet face was full in the light, her 
 bronze hair was hanging in two long plaits. Every- 
 thing was swimming about — books, papers, music, 
 stools, clothes, food. As Miss Lavender tried to 
 wave her hand to her young friend she suddenly 
 clutched at a pair of little red, high-heeled shoes, 
 and waved them over her head. 
 
 "Isn't it dreadful? See, your shoes, my dear! 
 Oh, Elspeth, isn't it dreadful? Such an adven- 
 ture!" 
 
 "It is certainly a little damp; but it will do 
 instead of the tiger, indeed is more unusual," Els- 
 peth said, with her irrepressible laugh. " I thought 
 I had wakened in Alice in Wonderland when Mr. 
 Beresford called to me, and I saw everything float- 
 
 272 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 ing around me. I looked about for the Dormouse 
 and the White Rabbit. I really did!" 
 
 " I think we must be going now. Hold tight, 
 Miss Lavender. Now, Miss Elspeth, you will go 
 up the ladder if you see the water rising farther! 
 And I will come back for you as soon as I can. 
 Au revoir!" 
 
 She could not help laughing when they had 
 disappeared down the veranda steps, Miss Laven- 
 der's little face turned down to Dick's in plaintive 
 apology. Elspeth was not frightened. Dick would 
 come back for her, and he had said there was no 
 danger. He was the kind of man people believed 
 in. He would not have left her in danger. 
 
 " It will be an adventure for Miss Lavender," 
 she thought. " Something really original. But I 
 don't quite know how the work party would take 
 it. As a rule they are not very quick at a joke. 
 I don't know that jokes have anything to do with 
 the machinery of ladies' work parties. And there 
 is something just a little too funny about the idea 
 of Miss Lavender, in her peignoir, and with her 
 hair in a short fluffy pigtail, being carried by Dick, 
 up to his waist in water. I know she will apologize 
 all the time. Is the water getting higher?" 
 
 She peered over her bed, recognizing ' various 
 obstacles floating by, but it seemed a wonderfully 
 short time before she heard a swishing sound in 
 
 (Bso) 273 S 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the veranda, and presently Dick appeared again. 
 His lips were curiously set, as he approached and 
 put aside the mosquito curtains. Elspeth, seated 
 on the cane chair, with her little bare feet hanging 
 over it, and her hair in two lovely rich plaits, 
 looked up and laughed. 
 
 " How did you get on, Dick?" 
 " Very well. She is a feather-weight." 
 " I am not. Oh, Dick, please let me wade beside 
 you!" 
 
 " Certainly not. You don't know what you 
 might tramp on, and besides there are big things 
 floating past, it is hard to keep one's feet. I used 
 to run barefoot as a boy, and my feet are hard — 
 and the water is rather swift. It won't be long. 
 I will put you down at the lodgie gate. Miss 
 Horatio is already there. She is having some 
 supper with the baas. He arrived last night, and 
 Madame comes to-day." 
 
 Elspeth came off her chair, and he put his arm 
 around her and lifted her. He did it in a very 
 matter-of-fact way, and though his face was very 
 pale, he betrayed no feeling of any kind, even 
 when one of the long plaits swung in his face. In 
 a few moments they were down the veranda steps, 
 and he was slowly ploughing his way through the 
 water. Now and then he turned to look about 
 him, or to call in Javanese to a native wading past 
 
 274 
 
' HE WAS SLOWLY PLOUGHING HIS WAY THROUGH THE WATER " 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 up to his waist. Here and there they saw the 
 flicker of torch-lights. 
 
 Elspeth did not apologize. He seemed to carry 
 her with no apparent strain, and she was very 
 slender. She could not help noticing, admiringly, 
 how strong his arms were, and how the splendid 
 muscles showed through his thin silk shirt. The 
 closely-cut curly head was oddly boyish in contrast, 
 but she had a curious sense of calm safety. Dick 
 was the kind of man who made people feel safe; he 
 was always ready for emergencies. 
 
 They did not speak much. 
 
 " I was awfully sorry about your letters," he 
 said at last. " And I fear they are gone. But 
 you will hear next week. If the — " 
 
 He stopped then. He had had to pause now 
 and then to avoid huge floating logs of wood, and 
 sometimes trees, which swirled past, and almost 
 carried him off his feet. An unusually large branch 
 struck him before he could get out of the way, 
 then, and Elspeth could feel him wince. 
 
 " Oh, Dick," she cried pitifully, " that did hurt 
 you! Oh, poor Dick! Couldn't you put me down? 
 Couldn't you? It has cut you. I see the blood. 
 Won't you put me down?" 
 
 "No; I will not!" he said, and smiled up in her 
 face. " It was a biggish branch, and would have 
 swept you with it. It did not hurt." 
 
 275 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 And yet he believed that to be true. What was 
 a mere physical bruise or cut when he was holding 
 her in his arms? Holding her there safe and dry 
 above the wild, swirling waters. For once in all his 
 life to stand between her and danger. Oh, it was 
 sweet, it was sweet! 
 
 They went on in silence for a little, then he 
 stood for a moment, looking up to the east. " See, 
 there is the dawn!" 
 
 He had to brace himself then, and he suddenly 
 swept her higher in his arms — a leafy tree, rushing 
 and rustling past, might have dragged and scratched 
 her feet, — and then he lowered her again, and they 
 looked at the dawn together. A faint pearly light, 
 cold, yet spiritual, like a dawning smile upon the 
 face of heaven, and then a little brighter and 
 clearer, and now pale bars of gold stretching and 
 deepening. A great hush and peace. The won- 
 derful birth of a day. 
 
 Elspeth gave a long sigh. " I don't think I 
 have often seen the dawn," she said. " I shall 
 never forget this one. There is something holy 
 about that sky. I shall never forget it. We are 
 near heaven at sunset and dawn." 
 
 Nor would he forget; but he said nothing. 
 
 They had reached the lodgie gate in safety then^ 
 and he passed through it, and up the path, where 
 
 276 
 
The Floods Come 
 
 all poor Madame's choicest roses were floating about 
 in the white and terra-cotta pots. 
 
 "There is Miss Horatio on the veranda," Dick 
 said. " Thank heaven, it stands high ! They raised 
 the whole lodgie after the great flood three years 
 ago. Now you are safe." 
 
 "Thanks to you!" 
 
 He put her down on the top step, and the old 
 ladies hastened up. A lamp was lit, and the ad- 
 ministrator had ordered cofiee and tea. He was 
 busy giving directions for the rescue of the horses 
 and cattle outside. 
 
 "Dick, you will stay and get dry now?" Miss 
 Horatio said. 
 
 " Oh, dear no!" he laughed; "the horses are still 
 in the stable. Where is Van Delden?" 
 
 " He went back about them." 
 
 " I must go too," Dick said. " We will get 
 them over to the house at once. I do think the 
 flood has reached its worst." 
 
 He was ofi" again immediately, and for long hours 
 was busy with Van Delden rescuing the animals, 
 and making them swim over to higher ground. It 
 was high noon when the water turned, and gradu- 
 ally and slowly began to sink. 
 
 The house was a piteous mess, a hopeless sea of 
 sticky mud and water; the horses stabled in the 
 veranda whinnied miserably, and Van Delden, tying 
 
 277 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 the cow to one of the posts, looked over at Dick 
 with a rueful laugh. Both men were chilled, wet, 
 and dirty. And both were usually point-device. 
 
 " It will be weeks before we are in order. They 
 will stay at the lodgie. Our so happy and blessed 
 time is gone. Kassian ! (Pity) ". 
 
 " Yes, it is," Dick said; " thanks to the flood." 
 
 ' I carried Miss Horatio," Van Delden continued. 
 " It was the noblest deed of my life. For she was 
 there, and I had to leave her to you. But age 
 had to come before beauty." 
 
 Dick made no answer. 
 
 " She is the M.P.'s, who has too much weight of 
 empire to write to her, you say," Van Delden said. 
 " But I would wish to have carried her, Dick, that 
 one time." 
 
 " I dare say." 
 
 He was in one of his taciturn moods. He went 
 into his bed-room then, and slowly and guiltily 
 took something from his pocket. He meant to 
 keep it; M.P. or no M.P. 
 
 It was all he had, all he would ever have. Her 
 little red, high-heeled shoe. He had taken it from 
 Miss Lavender, who did not notice. 
 
 And now he put it carefully away, and turned, 
 shivering, to look for a dry and passably clean suit. 
 
 278 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Redjo's Return 
 
 " I have just aiscovered the cook's name, and had 
 it spelt to me," Elspeth said. " Give me your 
 attention, Miss Lavender, please, and I wUl spell 
 it to you. It is Djigidi-KJrama ! If you sneeze you 
 will get the exact sound. I think it is a delightful 
 name." 
 
 Miss Lavender looked up from her writing, pen 
 in hand. 
 
 " My dear, how dreadful for poor Madame to 
 have to remember that every time she gives an 
 order! Instead of a plain Susan, or Ann, or Betty! 
 Miss Tibbits always calls her cook Susan. She 
 says she made the rule after having one come to 
 her who was called Gladys. Fancy having to say, 
 ' Gladys, please peel the potatoes', or ' Gladys, clean 
 the grate!' But Susan is quite a sensible name. 
 It suits all stations. I knew a Lady Susan Martin- 
 dale. She was the bishop's sister, and very phil- 
 anthropic. She addressed the Y.W.C.A. once, and 
 lunched with us after. She dressed very badly, 
 
 279 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and had a dreadful habit of saying 'You under- 
 stand me?' at the end of every sentence. It used 
 to make me feel quite hysterical and nervous. 
 And I didn't, sometimes, for she was always 
 talking about Herbert Spencer. I never could 
 follow what she meant at all. It sounded per- 
 fect gibberish. What were we talking about, 
 Elspeth?" 
 
 " The cook's name, and the benefit of a generic 
 one like Susan," Elspeth said. " I am going out 
 for a walk, Miss Lavender. Please tell Madame 
 when she comes in. She has driven over to the 
 controlleur's to ask if he knows anything of Redjo, 
 the native who found L^on. He has never turned 
 up, you know." 
 
 " If you pass the mill, and see Dick, I wish you 
 would ask him if the lists of steamer sailings have 
 come, Elspeth," Miss Horatio said, coming into the 
 veranda then, " or any other letters. I feel that 
 we cannot trespass on Madame's kindness very 
 much longer, strangers as we are. I think the 
 Dutch must surely be the kindest people in the 
 world. But — I feel as if we should be going home. 
 We must not neglect — our own vineyard." 
 
 She spoke slowly, almost unwillingly. Elspeth, 
 fastening a rose into the band of her pink zephyr 
 frock, looked over at her a little puzzled. Why 
 should the old lady seem to regret leaving Java? 
 
 280 
 
Redjo's Return 
 
 It was as if something were unfinished, as if some- 
 thing were incomplete. 
 
 "I shall be sorry to go," Miss Lavender mur- 
 mured, "iu many ways. I do wish I could have 
 seen a tiger, and the upas-tree, and an erup- 
 tion — all at safe distances; and I hope we shall 
 see Madame looking better. Her husband is 
 quite distressed about her. He said he wished, 
 if we made any further journey before going home, 
 that we would take her with us. Horatio had 
 thought of going to Japan. But it seems that 
 affairs at the miU are not quite right yet. Dick 
 said so." 
 
 "How is Dick?" 
 
 " He made very light of his fever, but Madame 
 says that it was a sharp attack, and that he got 
 a nasty wound on the night of the flood." 
 
 " He did," Elspeth put in. "He was cut by the 
 sharp edge of a huge branch. But I did not know 
 he had had fever as well. He and Mr. Van Delden 
 must both have been wet all night. It is no 
 wonder!" 
 
 She went out to the garden then, and walked 
 rather thoughtfully down the path. 
 
 " I may follow you after a little in the carriage," 
 Miss Horatio called to her. " Madame was to send 
 it back for us;" but the girl was too lost in thought 
 to hear. 
 
 281 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Many things troubled Elspeth as she walked 
 down the shaded road now, thinking, discon- 
 nectedly, as she looked before her, that it was odd 
 how familiar it had all grown to be. The long 
 road, with its lofty trees and placidly -pacing 
 bullocks; the green fields of rice, seen through the 
 branches; the waving cane-fields, with their rich 
 plum-coloured stems and feathery tops; the sharp- 
 cut edges of the cocoa-nut leaves; the silent crowd 
 of brown-skinned natives with their creaking pic- 
 colans; the tobacco -sellers on their mats; the 
 quaint vehicles, small and large. 
 
 "Almost as familiar as the road at home, with 
 the soft misty uplands and the green lush grasses," 
 the girl said to herself, and sighed faintly. Some- 
 times she was home-sick — home-sick for her father 
 and Walter! 
 
 A little keen pain stabbed her with the name. 
 She had not received any letter for two weeks; 
 she must have lost at least two or three in the 
 flood. She had written every week — long, loving 
 letters — but lately his had been fewer. 
 
 " Such a waste of waters between us!" she said 
 to herself restlessly. "Oh, dear me! such a waste 
 of waters! I stretch out my hands to you, Walter; 
 but I seem to see nothing but tossing waters and 
 long, long rollers, and the hot, hot pathway of the 
 Red Sea ! I wonder if he feels that too, and if the 
 
 282 
 
Redjo's Return 
 
 distance and the world of waters have made me 
 seem far off and strange?" 
 
 She took his last letter from her pocket as she 
 walked. She had studied it so deeply of late 
 that she almost knew it by heart. A clever, 
 moderately affectionate letter. Yes, " affectionate " 
 was the word she would use. And affection, in 
 connection with Walter, was rather an unsatisfac- 
 tory word, she decided. Affectionate sounds a little 
 tepid. She fancied people applied it to the feel- 
 ings one has for aunts and cousins. Last of all 
 Walter wrote: 
 
 "Your last letter was a little reproachful that 
 I had missed a mail. My dearest girl, you surely do 
 not understand the claims upon my time. I often 
 wish the day had double its hours! I must be 
 in my place in the House, and the new political 
 quarterly is far more work than I imagined. We 
 are not boy and girl! We are content, I hope, to 
 have common-sense. You do not wish any silly 
 effusions." 
 
 No, she had not wanted — that. She put the 
 letter away resolutely then. She would not pursue 
 this path. "Don't brood over worries", her father 
 used to say. 
 
 "He loves me — he asked me to be his wife!" 
 she said to herself. " I will trust him, and not 
 torment myself" 
 
 283 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Van Delden's bungalow, still in the process of 
 being put in order and elevated from the ground, 
 was before her then, and she looked in at the gate 
 a little sadly. They had been so happy there! 
 And Van Delden and Dick had been so kind! 
 
 The veranda seemed bare and desolate. There 
 were no flowers in the glasses, no hangings and 
 bric-k-brac, even the long chairs stood untidily 
 against the wall, and the bead portifere was broken. 
 
 "And I'm sure the boy does not set the table 
 prettily any longer. I feel certain he has gone 
 back to the bottle of Worcester sauce unadorned, 
 and forgets the clean serviettes," she soliloquized. 
 " I know the cook sends in hot water and grease 
 for soup, and takes home the meat. Dick has 
 been ill, too, very ill. Madame said she had sent 
 the doctor. He had blood-poisoning in that cut. 
 I remember how he winced, though he said it did 
 not hurt, and raised me high out of the water the 
 next moment. I shall never forget the flood, and 
 his strong arms, and that silver dawn in the sky. 
 Poor Dick!" 
 
 On again, and she had reached the side-road, and 
 now turned towards Redjo's hut. She had passed it 
 before, and knew it was empty. Now the big gar- 
 denia hedge was before her again, all starred with 
 white, perfumed flowers, and she went in and stood 
 by it. Where could Eedjo be? Had he, indeed, as 
 
 284 
 
Redjo's Return 
 
 Madame sometimes feared, been killed in revenge? 
 Krised and then hidden? Was that the end of 
 his mysterious story? The end of the tragedy? 
 
 She turned round then, her hands full of flowers, 
 and saw him suddenly, standing at the gate looking 
 at her. The stain of sunset was in the sky, and a 
 red light was on his thin face when he looked up 
 and recognized her. He came slowly across the 
 intervening space, and then, with a kind of nod, 
 entered the house and was lost to view. 
 
 " He is looking for his wife and child," the girl 
 said to herself; " but they are gone. Madame told 
 me they had left, and gone no one knew whither. 
 Does he not know that?" 
 
 He came out then and walked up to her, and 
 Elspeth held out her hand. 
 
 " You have come back. How ill you look! Have 
 you been ill?" 
 
 " Yes, I got a scratch up there on the Slamat, 
 the first time I tried to steal the boy, and I don't 
 think it healed properly. Then, coming down, the 
 cut began to bleed. A man I knew hid me for a 
 bit, for Eascila, the baboe, was vowing vengeance 
 upon me. That was after I gave the boy back to 
 Madame. Is he all right?" 
 
 " Perfectly. She scarcely lets him leave her 
 sight. It is pathetic to see her." 
 
 "Ah!" he smiled faintly, and then sighed, look- 
 
 285 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 ing round restlessly, " I heard my wife and child 
 were gone. I came to see if it was true. Old 
 Wongso, to whom I gave a message for her, died 
 of cholera suddenly, and she never got the mes- 
 sage. She has gone with the boy. I must go 
 and seek her." 
 
 " Madame will be sorry. She has been so 
 anxious to see you and thank you. She is so 
 grateful." 
 
 His lips moved. There was a nervous strain 
 about the whole face, a pathetic yearning. It had 
 been a crushing blow to find the house empty. 
 
 " She will understand my anxiety about the 
 child," he said. " I must go at once. Nami would 
 not understand." 
 
 " I am so sorry," Elspeth said in her pitiful 
 voice. "It is hard for you to start ofi" at once, 
 and you do look so dreadfully tired and Ul." 
 
 He looked up at her as if listening intently. 
 Always, though she was a young girl, she reminded 
 him of his mother. And never, since that voice 
 died away for ever into sUence, had a woman's 
 English voice spoken like that. His mother had 
 been a very loving woman. She had adored him; 
 she had followed him about with little loving cares ; 
 she had encircled him with that love which is like 
 nothing else in all the wide world, and which is a 
 heart-break to lose at best. He could say nothing, 
 
 286 
 
Redjo's Return 
 
 only listen. And then Elspeth resumed : " "We are 
 staying on at the lodgie, though I think we are 
 going away soon. There is a talk of Madame pos- 
 sibly coming with us. But the atmosphere of the 
 mill is not quite safe. And some hadjis are expected 
 back from Mecca shortly, they say, who are sure to 
 embitter the people and stir up more strife." 
 
 He did not seem to be listening. He had turned 
 his head to the little empty hut, a look of restless 
 misery on his face. Where was the tiny face, with 
 its dark liquid eyes of love, the small clinging arms 
 for which he yearned? And where was Nami? 
 " I must go," he said, as if rousing himself, "I must 
 find out if anyone knows where she is. I hope 
 things will go on all right. If Madame thinks I 
 could — Ah, there is the carriage ! One of the ladies 
 is looking for you." 
 
 He turned hastily and went within. Miss 
 Horatio, who had caught sight of the girl's pink 
 dress, beckoned to her from under her big mush- 
 room hat and veil. 
 
 " Someone said you had come down this road. 
 And we thought we heard you talking. Were you 
 talking, my dear, to a native?" 
 
 " Yes," Elspeth said. 
 
 The coachman looked round for orders then, and 
 they drove back to pick Madame up at the con- 
 troUeur's. 
 
 287 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " I can't understand how it is you talk Malay 
 so well, Elspeth," Miss Lavender said. " I heard 
 your voice speaking quite rapidly, but I think, my 
 dear, I think I heard a few English words now and 
 then! It is like my French, a little French and 
 a little English, a word of each, so to say. I do 
 get so dreadfully muddled. But then I never 
 had a head for languages. Madame is a perfect 
 marvel to me!" Elspeth looked up guiltily. Miss 
 Horatio, however, was lost in thought, her eyes 
 fixed before her over the horse's heads. 
 
 " That native walks — like someone — I knew," 
 she said at last. And then drew a long and pain- 
 ful sigh. 
 
 "Was it the vicar?" Miss Lavender enquired; 
 Miss Horatio's masculine acquaintance being of 
 a limited order. 
 
 " No. Someone I knew long ago. A — young 
 man." 
 
 Miss Lavender wondered vaguely at the tone. 
 But she said no more. 
 
 288 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Dark Days 
 
 "There has been a row at the cane-fields! The 
 baas is horribly annoyed, and I think the men 
 are in a bad mood. If we see the mill full to- 
 morrow, I shall be surprised!" 
 
 Dick spoke in a lowered voice, looking around 
 him continually. They were in the mill, and work 
 was, or appeared to be, in full swing. The natives 
 worked sulkily, silently; a keen observer would 
 have noticed that there was no ripple of talk or 
 laughter. Even the women, tossing great brown 
 spadefuls of sugar into the waiting baskets, 
 seemed to partake of the general gloom. 
 
 " What was it?" Van Delden enquired. " I was 
 over at the sale and only got back." 
 
 " One of the mandoers was cheeky, and Piet 
 Brandt cracked him over the head with a piece of 
 cane. He was cut, and bled. The men crowded 
 round, and it looked ugly for a minute. I hap- 
 pened to be passing and got down. They had 
 their krises out." 
 
 (B30) 289 T 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " It is the wrong moment to crack on the head," 
 Van Delden said rather gloomily, " The place has 
 been in a nasty state, as you say, since Pa-Eeis 
 came back, and they have guns! That is for your 
 ear, Dick, only. I know it!" 
 
 "Do you mean that, Van Delden?" 
 
 "Yes. I do! I hear it only last night from — 
 Hush!" 
 
 A mandoer and two Chinese were passing just 
 then, and they said no more. Beresford could see 
 that his friend was looking anxious and perturbed. 
 Presently the manager summoned Van Delden, 
 and they were in close conclave for some time. 
 
 When Herman returned, Dick perceived there 
 was a certain relief visible in his expression, but 
 they had not time to speak till the long day's work 
 was done, and then Van Delden had only time for 
 a word before he was summoned to the lodgie again. 
 He came back just before dinner, to find Dick 
 standing rather moodily by the veranda steps. 
 Beresford's head ached badly and he could not 
 read. He had not felt well for days. 
 
 " Well," he said, " are things calming down a 
 bit? I thought you looked more joyful after the 
 baas called you.'' 
 
 "Did I? My countenance betrays me then. 
 But 'calmed down'. No. Things are more un- 
 calmed than ever. We hear that not a man will 
 
 290 
 
Dark Days 
 
 enter the mill to-morrow. They have the cheek to 
 demand that Brandt shall be dismissed. So the 
 baas goes into town (driving by night) to tell it all 
 at the head-office. I am not sure that I think it 
 wise, his going. And cholera is so bad there, he 
 dares not take the ladies. They remain in the 
 lodgie." 
 
 " He is leaving them here?" 
 
 "Yes; and I am to take charge. I sleep at the 
 lodgie and overlook them." 
 
 " Oh, that explains your joy!" Dick said. 
 
 " I allow it is so. And yet, what madness! She 
 is not for me — never!" 
 
 Dick turned away. He was thinking dully that 
 he almost wished they were gone, that the ship 
 which would carry her from the East had sailed. 
 It was an ever-present torture, and yet an ever- 
 present hope. To think that at any moment he 
 might meet her on the road, or that the mill-door 
 might open, and he would see her face — losing its 
 English reds and whites just a little — behind 
 Madame's in the entrance. 
 
 They said no more then, and next day Van Del- 
 den took his departure. Dick was sent to the 
 bibit fields. The mill was closed. Sullen discon- 
 tent was in the air, and all sorts of rumours were 
 afloat. Sometimes it was said that soldiers would 
 arrive from Samarang at any time, that force 
 
 291 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 would be used to compel obedience, again tbat the 
 baas dare not proceed to extremities. Cholera, 
 too, was raging in town. If the old ladies had 
 wished to go then it would not have been wise to 
 do so. And it was just at this peculiarly awkward 
 time that Dick fell out of the ranks. He had 
 never got the fever out of his system since the 
 flood, and since Van Delden left for the lodgie, 
 where the manager retained him, Beresford had 
 not been particular about his food. Meals were 
 late, and badly cooked when they came. He was 
 too tired to eat, and would drink his coffee and fall 
 asleep in his long chair, waking shivering and 
 dizzy. 
 
 The old days, when Elspeth had looked after the 
 cook, and made dainty dishes herself on the little 
 oil-stove, were gone. They seemed years away. 
 He used to sit sometimes, with half-closed eyes, 
 conjuring up the scene: Elspeth at the piano, her 
 sweet voice mingling with the scent of the coffee 
 and orange blossoms in the garden, the old ladies 
 knitting placidly beside them. What a little para- 
 dise of home it had been to these two lonely men 
 for these few blessed months ! What a green oasis 
 in the desert! 
 
 Now it all seemed unreal, almost impossible. 
 He rarely thought now of Miss Horatio's confidence 
 regarding the mysterious " friend " she sought. 
 
 292 
 
Dark Days 
 
 He only regretted that he had not apparently been 
 able to help her at all. 
 
 On this sultry and suflfocating night Dick sat 
 alone after dinner, stretched on his long chair, 
 feeling unusually dull and stupid. A cloud had 
 seemed on his brain all day. Things were looking 
 worse and worse at the mill. The men would not 
 return, the cane-juice was fermenting, all sorts of 
 odd rumours were about. People recalled stories 
 of the Mutiny in India, and recommended that all 
 the ladies should go to the lodgie at once, and 
 that soldiers should be sent for. They said the 
 men were secretly plotting, and would surround 
 and kill them. Hysterical ladies implored their 
 husbands to shoot them before the natives burst 
 all bounds and krised them; and, weeping, they 
 were promised. Only Madame, pale and sweet as 
 usual, went about her quiet way, listening to all 
 these rumours patiently and calmly, but refusing 
 to believe them. There was a certain reassurance 
 even in her gentle calm. 
 
 "How my head aches!" Dick said to himself 
 aloud at last. " I almost feel as if I had had a 
 touch of the sun. I wonder what they are doing 
 at the lodgie? She will be singing. She and 
 Madame keep up the spirits of the party. That 
 poor little frightened Madame Van Nes was to go 
 there to-night too. Van Delden will be happy. I 
 
 293 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 wonder what is going to be the end of this. Will 
 the natives > really go to extremities and surround 
 the lodgie? It would be twenty Europeans, all 
 told, against thousands. I did not like the tone 
 of the men in the fields to-day, nor their looks. 
 Would they dare? How much would they dare? 
 I believe they have guns." 
 
 His mind went wandering on then as he pic- 
 tured the whole scene, the pain in his head grow- 
 ing worse and worse. He could see a crowd of 
 dark faces surrounding the white house, lurking 
 behind bushes and trees; he could hear the low 
 sinister whisper — a whisper that seemed to follow 
 them now, everyone as they passed, like the rustle 
 of a snake in the dry grass. Something evil 
 was in the air, something threatening. Dick had 
 a dull, horrible presentiment of tragedy which 
 chilled his blood. And he was not usually ima- 
 ginative. 
 
 It went on like a scene in a play, now blurred 
 and now horribly distinct. He felt as if chained 
 and bound. He had to follow it all out, scene by 
 scene. The pale, trembling women, that ring of 
 murderous faces outside drawing closer and closer, 
 a fatal cordon, then the gleam of the native kris, 
 the crash of the guns. What if the military came 
 too late? And so few soldiers could be spared. 
 Regiment after regiment had been drafted to 
 
 294 
 
Dark Days 
 
 Atjeh. Now he could see them burst all bounds 
 and sweep into the garden and up the steps. The 
 krises flashed in the air. There was a hoarse, 
 horrible cry. Madame was down, bleeding from 
 a gash in the arm. Elspeth! Elspeth lay dead 
 at his feet, and someone else, the man from 
 England, who was her lover, was holding her in 
 his arms. 
 
 Then the scene seemed to change, and the flood 
 was around them all again, and he was carrying 
 her through it. He could feel the satin-smooth 
 clasp of her arms, the great bronze plaits of hair 
 brushed against his head. He held her high, so 
 that the muddy water did not touch her little 
 white feet. And oh, how happy he was, how 
 happy! 
 
 " I would carry her across the death-river," he 
 murmured faintly. "My love, my darling!" 
 
 His head was thrown back on the chair, his face 
 deeply flushed, the eyes wild and delirious. He 
 did not hear or see when a carriage stopped at the 
 gate and a girl's tail figure descended Elspeth got 
 out with a word to the coachman and came up the 
 garden path quickly, looking around her as she did 
 so. The garden had not been replanted, it still 
 bore witness to the flood, and she could see Dick 
 apparently asleep in his chair. She had been din- 
 ing at a neighbouring bungalow, when news had 
 
 295 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 reached the lodgie which decided the manager that 
 all the Europeans should be summoned there. 
 Madame had sent word to her to return as soon 
 as possible, and to leave as many messages as she 
 could en route. They dared not trust notes or 
 native messengers. It had come to that. They 
 feared every shadow. And the last house was 
 Dick's. 
 
 "Poor fellow. How tired he looks!" Elspeth 
 said to herself as she mounted the steps of the 
 veranda. "He is asleep. And how untidy every- 
 thing is still! He must be so dull without Van 
 Delden. And I don't believe he eats properly. 
 But now he will come to the lodgie; things are 
 really threatening at last — even Madame allows it. 
 Dick!" 
 
 She stooped over and laid a cool hand on his 
 arm, but he did not move; his eyes were shut, and 
 he breathed heavily from dry, parched lips. Els- 
 peth gazed anxiously, growing alarmed. " He 
 looks as he did before he was ill. He has not put 
 on his dinner -coat. That is not like Dick." 
 
 He looked up then, with wild unknowing eyes, 
 and stared in her face. " I can't come," he said. 
 "They have killed her! Don't you see? She is 
 nothing to me; she belongs to the English M.P., 
 but my heart is broken! She is dead. And I 
 care for nothing more in all the wide world." 
 
 296 
 
Dark Days 
 
 And this was calm matter-of-fact Dick. 
 
 Elspeth started violently. She felt as if she 
 were an eavesdropper. 
 
 " You are dreaming !" she said then gently. " See, 
 Dick, it is I, Elspeth Macdonald. You are to 
 come to the lodgie ; Madame says so. Everyone is 
 coming there ; it is thought wisest. Things may 
 blow over, but it is as well to err on the safe side. 
 Come, Dick. Come back with me. Wake up, Dick. 
 We need all our men." 
 
 Her voice seemed to penetrate his brain then, 
 and gradually consciousness returned. He struggled 
 dizzily to his feet. 
 
 " I was asleep," he murmured. " We get into 
 bad habits now you ladies are gone. What did 
 you say? Wanted at the mill. But you, how are 
 you here?" 
 
 She told him, and Dick tried to listen, tried to 
 keep a taut hold on a consciousness that seemed 
 slipping slowly out of his grasp. Everything was 
 growing vague again. Only her face shone out of 
 the mist, with its earnest, anxious, hazel eyes. " I 
 think you should go away at once," he said, " back 
 to England. As you said yourself: What are you 
 doing here in this galereV 
 
 "At present I am going to see that you come 
 to the lodgie. I think you have a touch of fever." 
 Elspeth shook his arm lightly. " I suppose you 
 
 297 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 have been eating next to nothing. You are reeling, 
 Dick. Take my arm. Come, have you eaten your 
 dinner?" 
 
 " I don't remember dinner," he said stupidly. 
 "No, I think not. Cold greasy fowl, probably, 
 and hot water flavoured with onions. I think it 
 was late, or I was too seedy to eat." 
 
 " Where is your boy?" 
 
 She was beginning to wonder how she would 
 get him to the carriage. She called, but the 
 servants had all left — that, in itself, a sign, of the 
 chaos of the times, — and Dick, leaning on the 
 chair, was looking at her in a curious puzzled 
 way. 
 
 "Come," Elspeth said, after calling "Boy!" in 
 vain. " Come, take my arm." 
 
 He obeyed her then. She kept hold of his hand, 
 which felt clammy and cold, and together they 
 passed down the steps, the girl looking up into his 
 flushed face. Dick felt as if her bright eyes kept 
 him in the land of consciousness, that he was hold- 
 ing on, as to a spar in a great wide sea which 
 threatened to engulf him. But in the carriage his 
 head fell back, and Elspeth looked up at the coach- 
 man peremptorily: "Drive on at once, and drive 
 quickly! The tuan is ill," she said. 
 
 " The tuan looks like the dead," the man re- 
 marked curtly, and then drove on. Elspeth sat 
 
 298 
 
Dark Days 
 
 bolt upright in the carriage, Dick's white uncon- 
 scious face on the cushion beside her. 
 
 Later he roused as if from a long sleep, to find 
 Madame in her white dressing-gown by his side, 
 bending over him with something in a glass, and 
 then that vision, too, faded, and delirium swallowed 
 him up. Sometimes he fancied the old ladies were 
 in his room, and sometimes Elspeth. Once or 
 twice she seemed to bring back reality to him, and 
 once he dreamed that in one of the long, long 
 watches of the night, when he seemed floating away 
 on a sea of darkness and death, she laid her hand 
 on his forehead, and the touch seemed to heal him. 
 
 " Get well, dear Dick! Oh, do not die!" 
 
 Did he really hear that? Or was that too a 
 dream? After, was there something like a little 
 sob? 
 
 So it went on, night and day, through the burn- 
 ing noons and the long, long, hot days, and the 
 close stifling nights. Danger and trouble were all 
 around, rumours and whispering, a horrible sinister 
 calm, before the storm-clouds broke in the leaden 
 sky and the lightning fell. 
 
 The Europeans did what they could at the mOI, . 
 with a few coolies. Fever was rife, and a case or 
 two of cholera. L^on had fever, and needed his 
 mother, and there was a kind of sick languor over 
 
 299. 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 all the lodgie; even the old ladies were unwell. 
 Through it all only Madame and Elspeth could 
 smile, could hope. 
 
 " I do not know what I should do without you," 
 Madame said. " My nerves are really so unstrung 
 that I positively dare not trust even my own 
 good old baboe. And I am obliged to leave poor 
 Dick Beresford to you and Mr. Van Delden. Van 
 Delden is a born nurse. The doctor says the crisis 
 is not come yet. I shall be so sorry if our poor 
 Dick dies." 
 
 She spoke with the sad lethargy which great 
 tension of nerves brings. Elspeth started and 
 looked at her. 
 
 " He will not die," she said, and went and stood 
 over at the gray-shuttered windows. Outside, the 
 white heat glared and shimmered, a dazzling scorch- 
 ing air that dragged at one's life, and drew it out 
 drop by drop from one's veins. A dull weight was 
 at her heart. Dick was tossing, tossing, yonder in 
 the stifling room where Van Delden sat waiting for 
 her to take the watch; she remembered the burn- 
 ing face, the parched lips. "He has had such a 
 lonely life," the girl said to herself " He said he 
 .never knew a home. And he was so good to 
 everyone. I can't believe that God will let him 
 die before he has had some happiness. Somehow 
 it wouldn't seem fair!" 
 
 300 
 
Dark Days 
 
 What was it he had said that night about his 
 heart being broken? In a voice of such heart-sick 
 weariness. Bright, kindly Dick! "Oh it is all a 
 tangle," she said to herself; " but the end surely 
 can't be that!" 
 
 301 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 The Peril Draws Near 
 
 It was growing dark. Long lines of natives were 
 returning from bathing in the river; some were 
 still praying on their mats, their faces turned to 
 that faint red effulgence in the west where his 
 majesty the Sun had just held evening court. It 
 had been very hot all day, and evening seemed to 
 have brought no freshness; the rain kept off, but 
 the earth seemed to yawn and gape thirstily for it 
 still. Everything was silent in the side-road, where 
 Eedjo's home had grown to look deserted and for- 
 gotten. Gardenias were growing thickly on the 
 hedge, their luscious perfume filling the air, but in 
 the little patch of Indian corn behind the house, the 
 weeds were thrusting tall stems among the graceful 
 feathery heads. Now and then a kampong dog, 
 lean, hideous, and furtive-eyed, entered the gate, 
 and snuffed suspiciously around, as if half-puzzled 
 by the desertion of the place, by the air of desola- 
 tion about it. Then it grew darker, and many red 
 torches flitted past the end of the road, where the 
 
 302 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 natives threaded their way through the slowly- 
 decreasing lines of vehicles. At last the bamboo 
 gate creaked, and a little figure crept through, 
 walking with tired and weary step, and yet with 
 a kind of painful haste. It was Nami, and she 
 was carrying the boy in her slendang, his little 
 head hanging languidly on her shoulder. 
 
 Usually he looked about him with soft velvety 
 eyes, and parted eager lips. He always liked being 
 out, especially after dark, when there were many 
 torches, and even the grohahs (cane wagons) had 
 lights. But the little head was too languid now 
 to look up. He had been ill all day. Nami had 
 felt the small legs burn against her side. His 
 mouth was parched, his head throbbed, he would 
 not eat. She had been filled with terror. Once 
 before he had been very ill, and the nonjah besar 
 had saved him. But these were dreadful times; 
 she had been told the story only to-day. The 
 nonjah besar, and the tuan too, were cruel mon- 
 sters who ill-used the people, and they were going 
 to be surrounded in the lodgie, and killed. There 
 was to be an end of the white people altogether. 
 They were to be killed, or driven into the sea. 
 Java was to belong once more to " Orang-Java ". 
 
 Nami had listened to all this half-stupidly. She 
 could not understand. She had always thought of 
 the white people as great and wise and strong. It 
 
 303 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 sounded sacrilege, somehow, sacrilege and wild 
 raving folly. She had thought of them as wonder- 
 ful beings who ruled the earth and the fulness 
 thereof. They gave money which bought food and 
 new sarongs (in return for work which one had to 
 do for one's self in any case), they gave great feasts 
 at the milling — to her, personally, they had never 
 been anything but kind. Nami had been baboe 
 once to a gentle little Dutch nonjah, who had given 
 her sarongs and beads and bits of bright satin 
 and ribbon. The nonjah besar here had come and 
 given the boy medicine, and saved his life. Even 
 old Wongso had said that the nonjah besar was 
 as good as a doctor. Better, for the white doctors 
 did not come to natives. 
 
 But everything had seemed little in comparison 
 with this new fear which threatened her. The 
 child was ill. He might die! Children died so 
 easily ! In one little day the life might be over — 
 and she desolate! She had heard nothing of Eedjo. 
 The great god Buddha, at the great temple, had 
 been as deaf as her own god. She had told her 
 mother so, and then had come home. Her prayer 
 and sacrifice had been in vain. The gods were all 
 deaf 
 
 She entered the little house now, and, gently 
 unfastening her slendang, laid the child on his bed. 
 There was some oil left in her little native lamp, 
 
 301 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 and she lit that, and looked round her. Nothing 
 was touched. There was nothing to steal. There 
 was some dry rice in a vessel on the floor, and 
 some stick and wood in the kitchen. She lit one of 
 the little fires on the floor and put on some water 
 to boil. Perhaps the boy would drink a little milk 
 and water by and by. If he slept, she could run 
 round to the lodgie to her friend the cook there. 
 
 And then she paused in dismay. No one, they 
 told her, went near the lodgie now. And after 
 dark the tuans had firearms — dreadful death-dealing 
 weapons! They might fire at her! They were 
 frightened, frightened of Orang- Java ! That, some- 
 how, was a bewildering thought. Well, if she could 
 not get the milk at the lodgie — there she paused, 
 puzzled, worried. The child was still sleeping in a 
 strange feverish stupor. She wondered, then, if it 
 was fancy that she heard a step. Could it be her 
 tormentor — coming back to pour poisonous sugges- 
 tions in her ear? She had refused to be his wife, 
 and he had hated her ever since. She looked 
 round with dark startled eyes, and instinctively 
 drew nearer the child. The steps came near and 
 nearer, and mounted the little veranda. 
 
 "Nami!" said a voice she knew. "Nami, is it 
 you?" 
 
 "Eedjo!" 
 
 She was out in a moment, and stood before him, 
 
 (B30) 305 U 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 bright- eyed and radiant, and Eedjo went up to her, 
 and laid his hand on her shoulder. " You are back 
 at last! I have searched for you everywhere! And 
 the boy, where is the boy?" 
 
 She shrank at the eager expectancy of his voice. 
 
 " He is ill; he is asleep." 
 
 She led the way into the inner room then, and 
 the father followed and bent over the child's bed. 
 His face shadowed as he did so and his eyebrows 
 contracted. He knew the signs so well. It was 
 fever, and it was burning, burning the little life 
 away. 
 
 " When did he take it, and where have you 
 been?" he demanded almost sternly, and Nami slid 
 down to the floor by the bed, looking up at him 
 with appealing eyes. She felt like a culprit. 
 
 "Do not be angry, Eedjo! Indeed, indeed it 
 was not my fault!" They spoke in Malay, and hers 
 was a little halting, but she never spoke Javanese 
 with her husband. " I gave him all you said, and 
 he slept warm — indeed he did! He has eaten 
 nothing wrong that I know, nothing that was not 
 good. But after eating, to-day, he called out that 
 his head hurt, and since then he slept and slept! 
 And his hand burns, and his head!" 
 
 " It is fever," Eedjo said, " and my medicine is 
 all done. There was a man ill — a man who had 
 been kind, and hid me near the Slamat. I gave 
 
 306 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 him all I had, and the rest of the nonjah besar's 
 money. I have none! You must go to the nonjah 
 besar. Go at once. Tell her he is ill. She will 
 give you medicine. I brought back her boy." 
 
 Nami looked up at that, bewildered. She had 
 never complained or asked why he had gone, but 
 her face cleared now, and her eyes shone. She 
 drew a long breath. 
 
 "You went to bring back her boy?" 
 
 "You did not know that? Wongso did not 
 tell you?" 
 
 " Wongso died ! I did not know where you had 
 gone. We — searched for you!" 
 
 She did not dare use the singular pronoun ; but 
 he would never be angry with anything in which 
 the boy was included. 
 
 He scarcely paid heed to that, however. He did 
 not even notice very much how thin and small was 
 the little face, how languid her slow movements. 
 The boy was ill! He thought only of the boy. 
 "Go, Nami!" he said restlessly, looking up from 
 the bed. " His temperature must be very high. I 
 know by his breath. Do not wait; go at once. 
 Go round by the kitchen, and ask to see the nonjah 
 besar. Say Eedjo sent you. She will come." 
 
 " But — no one goes near the lodgie now. They 
 
 shoot — after dark they shoot!" 
 
 " Who shoots? What do you talk about?" 
 307 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She told him what she had heard then, and 
 Eedjo listened as if appalled. Things had not 
 stood still since his departure. This was worse 
 and worse. All the English blood stirred in his 
 veins as he heard. Besieged, almost besieged, ten 
 against ten thousand, and he here! Ladies, white 
 women and children besieged, and he here! 
 
 " But it may not be true," he said after a 
 moment. " I cannot believe it is as bad as that. 
 In any case go, Nami. The Javanese would do 
 nothing to you, but I think they would kris me 
 if they have heard that it is I who — brought back 
 the child. But I do not think they have heard it 
 yet. Rascila would not venture down so far unless 
 this news has reached her. You are a friend of 
 the nonjah's cook, and no one even knows I am 
 back. Ask for the nonjah; say you have come for 
 medicine, and get the cook to talk. Hear all you 
 can." 
 
 She took up her slendang at once, and then she 
 looked up at him wistfully and lovingly. 
 
 "You are tired, and have not perhaps eaten? 
 Your eyes are large, and your face thin. You 
 carry your arm as if it hurts. There is rice in 
 the pot on the fire. I bring back, perhaps, coffee 
 and some eggs." 
 
 " Bring the medicine," he said. " I have eaten 
 enough. Think only of the boy." 
 
 308 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 So Nami slipped away. 
 
 It seemed very long till slie returned, and he 
 saw at once by her slow, unwilling step that she 
 brought no good news. She came in heavily, and 
 sank down on the top step of the veranda, her face 
 hidden, 
 
 "I have not seen her; I could not see her. 
 They are very sick at the lodgie, and one is not 
 permitted to enter. Tuan Beresford, they say, is 
 like to die, and Madame does not leave the side 
 of the sinjo (little master). He is ill, like our 
 boy. The nonjahs Bngerese are there, and the 
 young nonjah. She and the Tuan Van Delden 
 are watching by the Tuan Doctor." 
 
 " But the cook; would she not take the message?" 
 
 " She looked at me as one who frowns. She 
 says they are all bad and wicked, and the hadjis 
 are to meet and say what is to be done. I begged 
 and prayed that she would go to the nonjah, and 
 she said No, she would not. But, Eedjo! I think 
 of something. I know where the nonjah Engerese 
 sleeps! It has a window which looks out on the 
 garden. There is a way to the garden — a break 
 in the fence, and through by a path no one knows 
 of It is not the big approach at all. And they 
 watch only by the big approach ! I shall wait till 
 the dawn, when all sleep, and then I shall creep 
 up and tell her. Perhaps she can give me some- 
 
 309 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 thing. They will let her see the nonjah besar. 
 But you, Eedjo; you must not go!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "They do not J^now you are here; but some 
 hear the story that you cheated Rascila, and 
 brought back the boy, and some are angry. They 
 say you are no true Javanese, and they ask me 
 where you come from and how I first knew you!" 
 
 "And you said?" 
 
 "I said you were true Orang-Java, though not 
 from this part," Nami said, beginning to tremble 
 a little. " Pa-Reis was there in the alan-alan, and 
 they meet with the hadjis and decide what to do 
 to-morrow night. Some say they will kill the 
 white people — yes, every one! What are they 
 against so many? And others say no; that the 
 tuans are not all wicked and cruel. And that 
 money is good. But the hadjis are very wroth, 
 and I think they will win them all round. Mean- 
 while we have no medicine. I care not for all this 
 talk. I care only for medicine!" 
 
 She went back despairingly to the bed. Eedjo 
 sat thinking deeply. He had bathed the little lad's 
 lips and hands. After a little Nami went out and 
 managed to secure a little milk, and with this she 
 fed the child, who slept fitfully. 
 
 Her husband sat on the veranda steps, his hands 
 clenched dumbly, painfully conscious ever of the 
 
 310 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 light rapid breathing from behind. But for the 
 child, he felt a wild and great desire to tear off 
 his native dress, to rush to the river and wash 
 away the stain from his skin, to tear the handker- 
 chief from his head, to go to the lodgie himself, 
 an Englishman. Whatever his story, one strong 
 man more for the women and children! 
 
 But his place was here yet! Beside Nami and 
 the little lad. And he was not sure, if Nami could 
 hear more of their plans, but that he might not 
 after all be of more help to them here, outside, in 
 the dark. Redjo, the Javanese! 
 
 Nami crept away just before dawn. The child 
 was no better. 
 
 Elspeth had just fallen asleep. She had been 
 relieved by Van Delden, and had come at once 
 to her own room. The lodgie was surrounded by 
 watchers and guards — natives whom the manager 
 hoped and believed to be loyal. But there was a 
 deep, strange shadow over the whole place, though 
 they tried to keep bright and to hide the true 
 state of affairs from Miss Bouverie and the other 
 ladies. L^on, too, was better, and his mother also 
 slept. The " ravell'd sleeve of care " was knit up 
 for a little. 
 
 "After all, we may be near the end of our 
 troubles," Elspeth thought to herself " If things 
 
 311 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 go on like this, Monsieur Disselhoff says he will 
 send a messenger for soldiers. If he can pass one 
 through! Van Delden thinks he knows a man 
 who is perfectly trustworthy. I can see even he 
 is a little anxious. He does not say it is ' alright ' 
 now! They are all so kind to us. I wonder what 
 Dick would say? It seems strange to see him 
 lying there helpless, ignorant of it all! Van 
 Delden had tears in his eyes to-day when he 
 looked at Dick. And he looked so grave when 
 I saw him examining the barrel of Dick's gun. 
 He did not refuse when I asked him to show me 
 how to shoot. Do they think we may need to do 
 that? What would Walter say, and Daddy? If 
 they could see us! Surrounded, hemmed in, in 
 peril of our lives! We are — I know we are!" 
 
 Her thoughts wandered far away, past the cocoa- 
 nut trees of the garden, and away over leagues and 
 leagues of water, to the little safe-sheltered island 
 far from the burning East. If they had heard that 
 whisper of Monsieur's to Van Delden — that pale 
 look at his wife and the other ladies! If they 
 could know that danger — danger like the Mutiny 
 in India — was coming close, quite close! 
 
 Walter! She could see him in his evening dress, 
 with his fur collar turned up, stepping into a 
 hansom in Palace Yard, and being whirled away, 
 smiling placidly. What would he say if he knew? 
 
 312 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 If he could see this secret ring of dark faces gather- 
 ing round, with the gleaming kris hidden in the 
 sarong! If he could have read the fear — the 
 thought Van Delden and Monsieur tried to keep 
 from their eyes when they looked at the women 
 and children! 
 
 "I won't think — I won't!" Elspeth said to her- 
 self, and yet went on thinking. 
 
 "What would "Walter say? He would feel like 
 rushing out — like rushing to her help — he would 
 call to her: 
 
 "Elspeth! Elspeth! I am coming! I am coming 
 to save you!" 
 
 "Would he? "Would he so speak, so fear? 
 
 A strange cold shiver shook her suddenly as if 
 a breath of chilly air had struck her. She did not 
 know how, or why, or from what source she heard 
 these words, as if at her ear — as if, half-scornfuUy, 
 derisively, at her side. Would he? 
 
 She turned away restlessly. She decided she 
 must have a touch of fever. Of course he would ! 
 And her father! 
 
 "Oh, I'm glad Daddy does not know!" 
 
 She cried out suddenly, with a home-sicK sob 
 of love and longing: 
 
 " Oh, my dear Daddy, I'm so glad you don't 
 know! It would drive you mad!" 
 
 A faint sound, something like a bird's wing 
 
 313 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 fluttering between tlie shutters of her room. She 
 started, standing stock-still. What was this? Were 
 they going to shoot, here and now? 
 
 A faint whisper, "Nonjah! nonjah!" 
 
 "Yes," she said in Malay. " What is that? Who 
 are you?" 
 
 " It is Nami. It is the wife of Eedjo. The child 
 is ill, very very ill. And no one but Madame can 
 save him. We have no medicine. We know not 
 what to do. Redjo cannot go to look for the native 
 doctor; he hides from the people. The child may 
 die!" 
 
 Elspeth listened. The mournful whisper died 
 away in a little sob at last, 
 
 " I will go and tell Madame," she said, " and 
 bring you something here. How did you come 
 through the guards?" 
 
 " They are all round the front entrance, and they 
 sleep. There is an opening in the hedge beside 
 the garden, on the side of the road behind our 
 house. Nonjah besar knows it. I broke the hedge 
 a little more. Ah, if the nonjah could only see 
 him ! — could only come ! She healed him before." 
 
 Elspeth shook her head as she crept away. 
 Madame was in a deep sleep, and she woke her 
 unwillingly, telling the story. 
 
 " I would go if I dared," Madame said. " But 
 it is too near the daylight. Adrian would not 
 
 314 
 
The Peril Draws Near 
 
 permit it, I fear. I would take this medicine. But 
 one never knows how to treat these attacks till one 
 sees the patient. I wish I could go! Eedjo! he 
 gave me back my boy." 
 
 She stood a moment, as if thinking deeply, then 
 went to her medicine-chest; after a little she came 
 walking softly to Elspeth's room. There she handed 
 Nami something through the shutter, and the 
 Javanese girl listened to her instructions. 
 
 Then Nami crept home, stealing like a lapwing 
 through the garden. Dawn broke as she reached 
 home, and the stars faded. The pale cold light fell 
 drearily over the lodgie and the menacing ring of 
 faces which surrounded it. Here and there a group 
 of dark figures melted away, like some cold and 
 sinister shadows dispersed by light of the sun. 
 
 Elspeth rose and threw open the wooden 
 shutter. It was easier to be brave in the light — 
 easier to repel the chilly touch of Fear's grizzly 
 hand. 
 
 " If we must die," was the prayer of the Eoman 
 prisoners, " let us die in the light." 
 
 " Another day," the English girl said to herself 
 " The doctor says Dick's crisis should be soon. 
 What will another day bring? Death or life to 
 him? Help, release to us? or the cordon round us 
 drawn a little closer? the barriers broken down? 
 death for us too. Death!" 
 
 315 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 "Save us, or we Perishl" 
 
 Miss Lavender sat at her tatting in the veranda, 
 her face slightly flushed. She wanted Elspeth's 
 help to count the stitches, and Elspeth was in 
 Dick's room. Madame, too, had not joined her, 
 and she was feeling rather solitary and just a little 
 ill-used. Horatio, too, had looked unusually grave, 
 and when she (Lavender) had asked her if they 
 could not drive that afternoon, had replied "No" 
 almost shortly. The little lady did not in the 
 least realize the position. All her life she had been 
 shielded, all her life she would be. And, as the 
 taking oflf of all burdens invariably breeds selfish- 
 ness in those from whom they are taken, Miss 
 Lavender was thinking now only of her own small 
 grievances. 
 
 " I can't think why everyone is so mysterious," 
 she said, " and so melancholy. Of course I under- 
 stand things are wrong at the mill, but why can't 
 they send for soldiers and be done with it?" 
 
 Miss Horatio had been told that morning that 
 
 316 
 
" Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 the difl&culty was to find a trustworthy messenger 
 — no European could be spared from the lodgie, — • 
 but she said nothing of this. As long as fear 
 could be kept from Lavender, it would be. The 
 elder lady went away presently, however, and took 
 out her old-fashioned desk. She had everything 
 ready. Long ago she had made her will. There 
 was nothing to add to it. She could not add 
 Harry's name, as she had hoped. She was no 
 nearer finding him. Bouverie would go to a dis- 
 tant cousin, who was extremely wealthy already. 
 The Java journey had been all in vain. She had 
 made no expiation. Tears dropped as she thought. 
 She read the will over slowly. Death had never 
 seemed to come so near as this before. Miss 
 Horatio was surprised to find that she could sit 
 there so calmly, looking through some old yellow 
 letters. She realized plainly what any night might 
 bring. 
 
 " K it is to be, it must be God's way," she said 
 to herself. " To think anything else is to despair. 
 I thought Lavender and I would die at home, 
 and sleep in the family vault — die, with friends 
 around us, and in the arms of home. But if it is 
 God's way, a quick knife-thrust or a bullet- — it 
 must be best. I am not afraid of myself, but 
 Lavender — " 
 
 Her face contracted for a moment with a spasm, 
 3X7 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and she shivered. "Not to be able to save 
 Lavender! I, who brought her here!" 
 
 When she looked up, Elspeth was standing by 
 her side, very white and tall and straight, but 
 quite self-possessed. She even smiled a little as 
 she bent down. 
 
 " Miss Horatio, will you go to little Madame 
 Brandt and take her this sal- volatile? Madame is 
 so vexed. The husband. Mynheer Brandt, has been 
 alarming her, telling her all the rumours; and I 
 can't leave Dick. She is very hysterical, and it 
 sets oflF the others. Perhaps you could sit by her 
 for a little?" 
 
 " Is there anything new, dear?" 
 
 Elspeth looked down at the upright figure and 
 the strong face. People were not afraid to tell 
 Miss Horatio the worst. " Nothing, except that 
 we hear the messenger has been tampered with. 
 He is back here. The guards round the house are 
 loyal still, but we dare not spare one, and the crowd 
 outside is increasing. Van Delden and Monsieur 
 are at their wits' end." 
 
 "And Dick?" 
 
 "He lies 'babbling of green fields'," Elspeth 
 said sadly. "He seems to think he is back in 
 Drelinford, with his uncle, fishing in the streams. 
 I fancy the doctor looked a little more grave 
 to-day. If we could only get a messenger through ! 
 
 318 
 
"Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 The medicine is running short too. I did think of 
 one plan. If I could only — " 
 
 She broke off. Perhaps it was better not to tell 
 Miss Horatio. The old lady might forbid her to 
 go, would be made anxious. No, she would say 
 nothing. So she left the old lady to take the 
 sal-volatile, and went back to Dick's room. 
 
 " You gave me a pink worm this time," he was 
 saying. "By Jove! there's a rise! Look under 
 that willow. A big chap too!" 
 
 The day passed heavily, and night came. Night, 
 when every shadow meant a creeping fear, a terror; 
 when darkness seemed to hem them round — a black 
 wall of unknown terror, shutting out succour, and 
 help, and hope. 
 
 Van Delden took the night watch. His cheerful 
 face had grown drawn, and thin, and haggard. 
 There was a look of alert watching on it, of waiting, 
 of hidden fear. Night and day he knew no peace. 
 He thought of the women, only of the women. If 
 they broke through the ring round the lodgie — burst 
 in ! Again and again he saw the picture — the wild, 
 dark faces, the gleaming kris, Elspeth dead, bleed- 
 ing! It was a horror which nearly bereft him of 
 reason. The other women had their husbands; 
 she and the old ladies, strangers in a strange land, 
 had only him and Dick. And Dick lay fighting 
 with death, helpless as a child. 
 
 S19 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " You grow ill yourself," he said to Elspeth, as 
 lie took the glass from her; "you are pale as 
 snow. But you will rest well to-night; Madame 
 said she had laid for you a sleeping drink. How 
 do you say it?" 
 
 " Yes." She did not add it was the last the 
 doctor had, and that she had given it to Madame 
 Brandt. "Good-night, Mr. Van Delden! Are we 
 going to pull him through, you and I?" 
 
 "God knows! I know it not! He struggles 
 well!" 
 
 " There is no news." 
 
 "We send, after to-morrow, Samen, if we hear 
 nothing from Samarang," he said in a whisper. 
 " For they gather now, more and more, and grow 
 loud and threatening. We think we trust Samen, 
 but we feared to spare him from the house at night." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 She went slowly away then, her head bent. She 
 knew that the guards were few, that to take one 
 might mean to lose all. She had made up her 
 mind slowly all day. 
 
 She would creep out at night through the garden, 
 through the hole in the hedge on to the side-road. 
 She would ask Kedjo to go. She felt that she 
 would not ask in vain. She made sure he would 
 go if the boy was at all better. 
 
 It was a risk, but she would wear one of Madame's 
 
 320 
 
"Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 sarongs, and cover her face. In the dark, even if 
 seen, she would be taken for a Javanese woman. 
 
 Once in her own room she waited patiently till 
 the house was wrapped in silence. In the garden 
 the guards sat on the ground, conversing in whis- 
 pers and chewing sirih. It was very dark, but now 
 and then a little breeze swayed the palms and 
 bamboos, and fluttered the roses in Madame's plots. 
 The scent of night flowers was heavy in the air, 
 but there was no sound from the road, or from the 
 alan-alan (public place), where some of the mal- 
 contents had fallen asleep at last, whUe others 
 raved and talked. The balance swung now this 
 way, now that. Kill, or not kill. A hair would 
 have sent the scale down either way. And the 
 pressure on the "kill" side, was growing the 
 stronger of the two. 
 
 Elspeth crept out from her window at last, and 
 lightly leapt on to the ground. She was dressed 
 in a dark sarong and jacket, and she had pulled 
 her long hair over her face. There had been no 
 time to dye her skin, but she had put a pair of dark 
 gloves over her hands. She crept down the garden 
 noiselessly, with bare feet, keeping to the grassy 
 border, and at last reached the hedge and found 
 the aperture. She could hear the guards' voices 
 now and then, but no one seemed to notice her, 
 or look round, and in a moment she had passed 
 
 (B30) 321 X 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 tJirough, and was standing in the side -road. All 
 was dark, and she stumbled often, and fell once, 
 over the root of a banana-tree, but at last she 
 reached the little gate, and could see a faint light 
 from the small veranda. So far she was safe. 
 She looked around carefully in case any other 
 native were within, and then slowly approached. 
 AJl seemed silent, and at first she thought the 
 veranda was empty; then she saw a huddled figure 
 on the fioor, the head thrown down on the mat, 
 the long dark hair tangled and rough. She scarcely 
 knew Nami, when the girl looked up at last, the 
 little face was so changed, so worn and anguished, 
 so distorted with weeping. 
 
 " What is it?" Elspeth asked pitifully, stooping 
 down. "What is it?" 
 
 No answer. Only a despairing gesture to the 
 inner room, and then the dark head fell forward 
 again. Elspeth stood as if transfixed. The chUd 
 must be dead. Could she go in upon them then? 
 
 She took a faltering step forward. All their 
 lives might lie in his hands! And he was an 
 Englishman. 
 
 She stood in the opening, and looked through 
 the darkness to where Redjo knelt, his arms 
 stretched over the child. He had so loved it, it 
 had so loved him. Healing and peace had been in 
 that little face, in those clinging arms. His inno- 
 
 822 
 
"Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 cent child, who would never know. He had looked 
 neither before nor behind. He had only known 
 the child was in his arms. And now, now the hoy 
 was in the arms of Death. So much life all around, 
 so many, many thousands of children. And this 
 one cold and still. Silent for ever. He looked 
 round and knew her, and the stiff mask of his 
 features changed. 
 
 " I see what has happened," Elspeth said piti- 
 fully. " Poor little one ! My heart bleeds for you, 
 and so will Madame's. She fain would have come 
 to you. She would, if she had dared, but Monsieur 
 feared attack if she were seen. We are few, and 
 they are so many." He moved away from the little 
 bed and faced her. He seemed to take it all in 
 slowly. 
 
 "Yes, I know. She would have come. But it 
 was too late. There is not much strength in his 
 mother, and he — inherited her — constitution. I 
 am strong. What can I do for you? You have 
 come to ask me something." 
 
 His tone was very strange. It was detached, 
 almost absent. 
 
 "Not knowing — this — I came," she said sadly. 
 " Shall I still tell you?" 
 
 "Please!" 
 
 "There is no one to send, as messenger, to Sama- 
 rang, for the soldiers." 
 
 323 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "And they are necessary? I have been nowhere 
 for two days, and thought of nothing." 
 
 " The guards tell us the men talk of — surround- 
 ing the lodgie — and — killing all the Europeans. 
 Krising us. We sent a messenger for soldiers. 
 And he returned after doing nothing. There is, 
 they say, no one to trust. Except — you!" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 He drew a long breath. Something strong and 
 resolute replaced the agony of his face — the mask 
 of despair. He straightened his shoulders. 
 
 " You — seem to be — a native, and they will 
 not suspect you, once you are out of this neigh- 
 bourhood. I brought money for you to hire from 
 Pelaton. Van Delden heard a regiment was ex- 
 pected back from Atji, to-day or to-morrow. If 
 they could come on — at once — it might be — in 
 time." 
 
 "It might be in time!" 
 
 She spoke quite calmly, and he looked at her 
 with a little wonder. She did not even ask him 
 to go. She merely said they had no one to trust 
 — except him. 
 
 His eyes brightened. He did not look again at 
 the little still figure. 
 
 " I will go at once. Better to get through this 
 part of it in the dark, as you say. I may be able 
 to bring help, or news of help, to-morrow night, 
 
 824 
 
"Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 if I — get througli. If not — you will understand. 
 The money — thank you!" 
 
 " 1 — I want to — thank you." 
 
 " No, don't do that. We — never say much — as 
 a race, do we?" There was a strange sudden 
 equality in his tone, a strange glad rising to an 
 old level, which oddly thrilled her as he spoke, and 
 then he stood for a moment looking down at the 
 hand she put in his. 
 
 " You women^-you and Madame — have brought 
 my soul up from the deepest hell. Tell her that, 
 if I don't see her again. There are some who draw 
 aside, from the shipwrecks of life, the flotsam and 
 the jetsam, the drunkards and the sinners, and the 
 mistaken. Those who are called the failures. 
 Men who are called ' their own worst enemy', but 
 who, God knows, may never have wronged a 
 human soul beside ! There are those who walk by, 
 on the other side, hastily, without a look backward, 
 in case a glance should meet theirs. The kind of 
 people who crossed the street in Dumfries to avoid 
 Burns, when he took to — drink, and shipwrecked his 
 life at thirty-eight. The people who walk on the 
 best side in the sunshine, and thank God they 
 neither sin nor sorrow. But you — you and 
 Madame! Your eyes would never hurt. When 
 she came and stood over the boy . . . with her 
 gentle face . . . He always runs to her — 'runs'! 
 
 325 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 ... I forgot. . . . He will never run any more. 
 . . . What was I saying? ... I began to try 
 and thank you. ... Go on trusting people, 
 believing in them, giving them another chance. 
 You'll never be sorry when you come to die." 
 
 The tears had sprung to her eyes as the dull 
 stumbling voice ceased, but he had gone out to 
 the veranda, and he lifted Nami gently and put 
 her on to his own chair. 
 
 " I must see to her," he said, looking up at 
 Elspeth, "and then I will go. Hark! Is that 
 a voice? Creep round by the gardenias, and wait 
 till the coast is clear." 
 
 He stood for a moment listening, and then 
 Elspeth glided away. No one came up, and 
 presently she had reached the hedge which sur- 
 rounded the garden. There she had to crouch 
 against it, her face hidden, for a band of natives 
 came down the road, one with a torch, which he 
 carried, fortunately, rather low, and they were 
 talking in loud angry voices. 
 
 Would some fools wait till the tuans sent for 
 soldiers to kill them all? 
 
 As yet they were safe, for no messenger dared 
 go to Samarang, was the angry answer. It was 
 a business that required a great deal of thought. 
 They should not decide hastily. Killing was kill- 
 ing! They stopped opposite Kedjo's house and 
 
 326 
 
*' Save us, or we Perish!" 
 
 looked in suspiciously. One man muttered that 
 Redjo was a snake in the grass, that he had 
 brought back the sinjo to the lodgie, that it would 
 be better to take him and secure him, lock him up 
 or kris him. 
 
 " His child died this morning," another voice 
 said. "He weeps with Nami, that is all. Leave 
 him for to-day." 
 
 Then they passed on. 
 
 Redjo got his kris, and changed his attire. 
 Nami, lying worn out on the chair, looked up at 
 last, as he stood before her. A great blow stuns, 
 it makes all others seem trivial, and she only 
 stared up at him Avith solemn, emptied eyes. 
 
 "You go away?" 
 
 " I go to Samarang," he said. " The tuans are 
 in danger, and the men surround the lodgie, and 
 talk of killing them." 
 
 " But you — you — are — you are not one of 
 them!" 
 
 He did not answer, and she continued in the 
 same dull, muffled voice: 
 
 " For you it is danger to side with them. They 
 know of Rascila. If you do this — " 
 
 " Nonjah besar saved the child once, twice," he 
 said, and then stood looking down at her. A 
 fleeting impulse to tell her all, to cross the gulf 
 which lay between them, the strange gulf which 
 
 327 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 separates black from white, which nothing, not 
 even the bond of love, can ever bridge, possessed 
 him; but he did not yield to it. Invisible phan- 
 tom hands kept him back. She would not have 
 understood. Never! never! One does not tell 
 tragedies to children. As well whisper the story 
 into the dead, cold ear of the little son yonder on 
 the bed. He gave her a few instructions, then 
 went back and knelt down to take his farewell. 
 
 Nami heard a low moan. But she did not move. 
 She dared not. With his sorrow no stranger could 
 intermeddle. And she, his wife, knew herself a 
 stranger. Then he passed out into the dark on his 
 errand. 
 
 328 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 A Night of Terror 
 
 The long night had passed, and the next day, A 
 day of burning heat, a trying, steamy day. Not 
 a day to feel peril drawing near — for dread fears. 
 The ladies were hysterical, the crowd had gathered 
 densely at the lodgie gates, their loud, threatening 
 voices could be heard, and many were armed. It 
 was not a pleasant nor a cheerful sight. 
 
 " I don't know why they don't come on and kill 
 us," Mevrouw Brandt sobbed, " and have it over. 
 If they would only make up their minds." 
 
 "That is just it; they can't," Elspeth said 
 cheerfully. " There is an unknown terror about us 
 and about our revolvers. They never will come, 
 Mevrouw, and by and by the soldiers will arrive, 
 and we will all go to Samarang and be quite safe. 
 By and by this will all seem only a hideous night- 
 mare. Come, sit down and have some tea." 
 
 There had been a curious elation in her manner 
 and in her heart, since she had confided in Redjo, 
 since he had started to save them. 
 
 329 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " I feel sure he will reach and give the message," 
 she said to Madame, to whom she had told the 
 story. " I feel sure we are saved. I feel it, here." 
 
 Madame smiled rather sadly. " Because he is 
 English, Elspeth? Poor Redjo! I often wonder 
 what cut him oflf from his nation. It does not 
 seem to me that the crime can have been very bad. 
 You do not know, do you, what it was?" 
 
 The girl shivered a little. "Not exactly," she 
 said. " And I could not say, if I — guessed. He 
 trusted me. But in any case I feel sure it has 
 been washed out in tears. Repentance like his 
 must reach God and win His forgiveness. Surely 
 he has suffered enough. It seems to me sometimes 
 that all sin so inevitably brings its own punish- 
 ment that our hell, like our heaven, begins here in 
 this world. It is the only hell I can imagine. To 
 me there seems no need of the theologians' flames 
 in another world. We work out our own salvation, 
 sometimes over red-hot ploughshares, here." 
 
 They had had a little breathing-space in the 
 veranda. Most of the ladies were asleep, and Van 
 Delden was watching by Dick's side. The other 
 men talked in muffled voices in the salon, their 
 revolvers lying near. Now it was impossible to 
 leave the lodgie. The cordon was coming closer 
 and closer. 
 
 Madame, like a white wraith in her loose muslin 
 
 330 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 gown, was yet, as usual, carefully and exquisitely 
 dressed. She had made a point of dressing even 
 more carefully than usual. 
 
 " Nothing would depress the men more than for 
 us to look as if we gave up hope," she had said 
 smilingly to one of the ladies that day. 
 
 But she stood looking out for a moment over 
 the white marble steps down towards the garden. 
 She had designed it herself, and superintended 
 every arrangement. There she and L^on had 
 wandered happily and safely day after day, followed 
 by the quiet, respectful gardener. Now the gar- 
 dener was out there with the malcontents! 
 
 " Sometimes it seems impossible to believe they 
 are there with guns and knives," she said to herself 
 with a shiver, "held back, God knows by how 
 slender a thread. They know of our rifles and 
 revolvers, and that the first comer would be shot 
 down; but soon, very soon, we should be over- 
 powered by mere weight of numbers. Adrian has 
 promised — " she stopped and shivered, and just then 
 turned her head. Her own faithful baboe came to 
 say the boy wanted her. She did not complete the 
 sentence, but Elspeth, to whom she spoke, knew its 
 tenor. 
 
 " I do not mean to think of it," the girl said to 
 herself " He will bring the soldiers. He will 
 save us!" 
 
 331 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She had felt inclined to tell Miss Horatio, but 
 the thought of the many questions which she knew 
 would follow had restrained her. Miss Horatio 
 would not trust in a native, and she dared not tell 
 her Kedjo was not a native. So she contented 
 herself by saying that there was still hope in the 
 horizon, that was all. 
 
 The dark night fell — unusually dark, the sky 
 was almost starless. Monsieur had ordered that 
 all the available lamps should be removed from the 
 veranda, so that the men should not have a clear 
 view if they broke in ; but the night was so stifling 
 that the Europeans were all gathered in the great 
 pillared dining -hall from which the bed -rooms 
 opened — the ladies mostly prone in long chairs, 
 the men smoking. 
 
 "Let them smoke," Madame had begged her 
 husband. " It keeps them up and soothes them. 
 And what is a little smoke now?" 
 
 Dick lay in a deep, death -like stupor, his 
 features pinched and wan. Whether he would 
 rouse from it, or pass out into the unknown 
 and deeper waters, they did not know. They 
 could do no more; only watch, and be ready if 
 he roused. 
 
 And so the long hours passed. Many of them 
 had fallen asleep, worn out, when Elspeth gently 
 pushed aside a heavy reed curtain, and stood by 
 
 332 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 Van Delden's side for a moment on the steps. 
 She had fancied she had heard a low murmur 
 from the dark groups massed near the gate — a 
 murmur that seemed to come near and nearer. 
 
 Was the attack coming at last? Had Eedjo 
 failed? She went to Van Delden instinctively. 
 Monsieur was with his wife, by the boy's side, 
 but they did not appear to have heard anything, 
 and no one else had moved. 
 
 "What is that?" she whispered in his ear. 
 "Don't you hear something? A kind of cry — a 
 hoarse, angry cry." 
 
 " Yes ! Look ! Someone creeps across the garden. 
 Watch that ray of light. I shall raise my revolver 
 ready. Will you stand back? It is either a spy 
 or the first of them coming! Mon Dieu! He has 
 a white face!" 
 
 "Oh, I see, I see! It is Eedjo! He is coming 
 to tell us! I sent him to Samarang! He is our 
 friend!" 
 
 She clasped his arm with a grip of steel. 
 "Lower your weapon! He is coming to tell us 
 — to help us. Ah! Pa-Eeis is creeping behind 
 him! With a kris! Look! Oh, save him! Tell 
 him! Oh, my God!" 
 
 She hid her face with a low cry of horror, and 
 from the shadow of the garden the faint sound 
 was echoed, with a gasping, choking moan. 
 
 333 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "They have krised him! The devils! I will 
 go and bring him in." 
 
 Van Delden knew no fear, and in a moment he 
 passed down the steps and into the garden. A 
 kris whizzed past him, and he sent a shot into 
 the shadow, which was followed by an angry cry 
 and a growl of furious voices. He had reached 
 the side of the prone figure and lifted it. He was 
 staggering up the steps with the bleeding man in 
 his arms; a dying man, as he knew. Elspeth met 
 them in her white gown, careless of danger. Still 
 the women slept. There was no sound from within 
 as they laid him gently down, the dark, conscious 
 eyes looking up at the girl faintly as she knelt 
 beside him. 
 
 "I go for the doctor; he is with Dick," Van 
 Delden whispered in her ear. " I fetch him at 
 once. He bleeds to death!" 
 
 "Wait!" 
 
 Eedjo spoke painfully, looking up from the 
 marble floor. Elspeth was half- supporting him, 
 her muslin gown already stained and red. 
 
 " I — came to — tell you — ^to hold on — till — 
 morning! The soldiers are coming — before dawn!" 
 
 " You got there! You have saved us!" 
 
 He looked up at her half-smUing, and then his 
 eyes wandered over the darkened spaces and the 
 shadowy recumbent figures of the women beyond. 
 
 334 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 " I am glad," he said simply. His eyes met 
 hers again. " I went home and — and took oflF 
 the stain — I wanted to come — and help you — if 
 they — broke in — before dawn — as an Englishman." 
 
 There was so new a tone in his voice that she 
 gazed, pale and astonished. He had redeemed 
 himself; was that it? He was worthy to be 
 English again!" 
 
 Then came voices — whispers — the doctor bend- 
 ing with earnest scrutiny and gentle, practised 
 hands. 
 
 Eedjo did not move. His languid head was 
 drooping low and lower. 
 
 " You will save him?" Elspeth whispered. " Oh, 
 you must — you must!" 
 
 " I wish I could! But he is bleeding internally. 
 Who is he? What is the meaniug of it? He has 
 a white face — and native dress!" 
 
 What could she say? 
 
 "He is a European who has lived here as a 
 native," Elspeth whispered. " In our extremity and 
 peril he sided with us. He went to Samarang for 
 the soldiers. Oh, must he die? Must he?" 
 
 The old pitiful wail, the pitiful protest of young 
 life against the great inexorable shadow. 
 
 " At least," the doctor said, " he has died nobly. 
 He is — staking. Do you think you should tell 
 him?" 
 
 335 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She bent down. THe angry voices were grow- 
 ing louder, nearer; behind them was another 
 sound; but it all came like the roar of a great, 
 distant sea to the girl's ear. She had never seen 
 death before. Was it all like this? A calm, deep 
 and wide as the sea — a great peace — a drifting 
 out and out — a tide " too full for sound or foam " 
 which carried one away. 
 
 She stooped and gently put her hand on his 
 forehead, smoothing back the crisp, damp hair. 
 He looked up, and caught sight of the little gold 
 cross depending from its slender chain on her neck, 
 and his eyes lit into life and meaning. 
 
 "Amice!" he whispered gently, with a curiously 
 bright and radiant look — a look of glad surprise — 
 then he tried faintly to rise, as if to go and meet 
 someone. 
 
 "Amice! Did you come — to meet me?" 
 
 Amice ! 
 
 The threads, wavering, seemed to connect in the 
 girl's mind. He was Amice's lover! She stooped 
 lower still. Should she tell him? Was there 
 time? 
 
 The dark eyes, fixed before him on the little 
 cross, grew strangely bright; he lifted his hand 
 slowly and touched it, held it tight, brought it 
 down softly to his lips. It lay there. No one 
 moved. A faint, long sigh. The heavy lids closed. 
 
 336 
 
b30 
 
 "she stooped and gently put her hand on his forehead' 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 Harry Bouverie's spirit had passed forth into the 
 unknown. 
 
 "Carry him into my room. Poor fellow! Do 
 not let the women waken. What is that! Mon 
 Dieu! Has it come? They are here! Call 
 Monsieur. Elspeth, go within!" 
 
 The dawn was breaking. The first cold and 
 wan light of day was in the east as Van Delden 
 spoke. There had been a shout from the crowd 
 at the gate. A group of figures, detaching them- 
 selves with harsh cries and execrations, rushed 
 into the open; rifle-shots were fired at the 
 veranda, the bullets tearing up the gravel but 
 doing no injury. 
 
 Van Delden, his teeth clenched, his face gray, 
 waited, his revolver ready, and the men gathered 
 around him. They were ready for the next on- 
 rush. 
 
 The women wakened and screamed. Madame, 
 her boy in her arms, kept them back. They were 
 all there, save only Miss Lavender, who was sleep- 
 ing peacefully, and Miss Horatio, watching by her 
 side, kept her place by the door. They would kUl 
 Lavender — and waken her — only over her body. 
 
 "They are coming! That is Pa-Reis. I think 
 I could reach him — " 
 
 "Mr. Van Delden! Wait! Listen! I hear 
 
 (B30) 337 Y 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 horses! They see them! They run! Oh, look! 
 look! The soldiers! the soldiers!" 
 
 Would they ever forget the scene that followed? 
 The mad rush of the advancing horses; the wild 
 gallop of the strange native cavalry, with the 
 smiling point -devise officer at their head; then 
 the terrified flight of the natives, the shouts, the 
 cries! The sun broke out as if in jubilation. 
 They were saved! 
 
 Elspeth found herself shaking hands with every- 
 body, and being embraced by everyone; the lodgie 
 garden swarmed with barefooted soldiers, the ser- 
 vants cheered and wept, the first sunbeams fell over 
 a wild scene of relief and hilarity, cries and tears. 
 
 " We were just in time," Monsieur le Capitaine 
 said. " Though they aim so abominably that you 
 could have held them at bay, I think, while your 
 ammunition lasted. What a pack of frightened 
 rabbits after aU! I should like to have shot a 
 round dozen or so, to teach them a lesson." 
 
 " We will think about the lesson afterwards," 
 Monsieur remarked. "It is enough for us now 
 that you arrived in the nick of time. Ah, here is 
 something to cool our throats! Your health. Mon- 
 sieur le Capitaine; and God bless you all!" 
 
 " Miss Macdonald, we forget Dick." 
 
 They stole away then, and found to their amaze- 
 ment that the uproar seemed to have penetrated to 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 Dick's room and roused him. He was looking up 
 with startled blue eyes and a very white face, 
 and did not at first see Elspeth. 
 
 " What the dickens is all the din, Van Delden?" 
 he whispered crossly. " Can't you let a poor fellow 
 sleep? You sleep like the seven — " And then 
 his gaze fell upon the girl, pale, sad, and yet with 
 smiling eyes. 
 
 "You do well to blush," Van Delden said, push- 
 ing him down cheerfully. " So great an exhibition 
 of rage before a lady. It is shocking! You will 
 be pleased to go to sleep and hold your silly and 
 idiot tongue. After you have drunk this. He 
 grows well now, Miss Elspeth. He is his cross and 
 angry self. He lives for forty, fifty, a hundred 
 years to plague us. Isn't it?" 
 
 Elspeth crept away. At last she felt as if tears 
 would come. As if she had time to break down. 
 
 "My dear, where are you going?" 
 
 " To see once more the poor man who saved us." 
 
 " I will come with you, Elspeth. I should like 
 to see him. They said his wife was there." 
 
 "Yes. She sat by his side, just gazing up at 
 him, as a baboe does with her sleeping child. But 
 they ' led her away at last. Madame has kept her 
 with the other women. She will care for her 
 always." Should she say anything to Miss Horatio? 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Prepare her for seeing a European? Elspeth was 
 still undecided when they reached the room where 
 Harry lay. 
 
 She had folded the little cross tightly in his 
 hand. He would go to the grave with his secret, 
 and with Amice's cross. But somehow words failed 
 her, and Miss Horatio entered the room all unpre- 
 pared. It was dark and late, and no lamp had 
 been carried in, but a long, slanting ray of moon- 
 light fell upon the bed. Outside, in the garden, 
 the soldiers were gathered, there was bustle and 
 stir everywhere. The rebellion seemed to have 
 fizzled out with amazing suddenness, and Pa-Eeis, 
 and all the ringleaders, had been caught and 
 arrested; but there was still an air of excitement 
 all around, which was in strange contrast to the 
 great peace, the awful stillness of the dead face. 
 
 " Miss Horatio — he — was really a European, 
 though he lived here as a native. I may tell you 
 that. He is the man you saw me talking to. He 
 saved us, you know, knowing the risk," 
 
 Miss Horatio had given a great start. 
 
 She went to the bed and looked down, and not 
 a sound escaped her lips. She knew, afterwards 
 she said she knew, from the moment Elspeth pro- 
 nounced the word European. 
 
 She bent down and recognized him. Grown 
 young, grown boyish, grown happy. 
 
A Night of Terror 
 
 The years were washed out, and the suffering, 
 with all the sins and mistakes. He was the man 
 God and his mother meant him to be. 
 
 He lay asleep, happily asleep. 
 
 She looked over at Elspeth with tragic reproach- 
 ful eyes. 
 
 " You knew, and you never told me." 
 
 "Miss Horatio! What?" 
 
 " That Harry — was here — close — all the time. 
 Harry! My brother!" 
 
 "Harry! Your brother?" 
 
 "Yes. But I see you did not know. Elspeth, 
 this is — this is my punishment! He was — my 
 brother. I came to find him," 
 
 In her agony she said no more. Elspeth stood 
 by, silent, transfixed with horror. Was it possible? 
 
 " He killed — his mother — by mistake. Let it 
 pass your lips never again. He fled the country, 
 thinking my father, at whom he aimed, would 
 prosecute. He was not quite himself at the time. 
 She had rushed between — and he — adored her. 
 He feared us all. We had been hard, unforgiving, 
 and he, erring and weak. ... I came to find him, 
 and tell him, I was sorry. ... I had learned to 
 be pitiful. Oh, my God! If I had learned that — 
 sooner. He looks like her. . . . Oh, Harry, Harry!" 
 
 She knelt down and laid her old head on the 
 pillow beside him for a moment, in tearless agony. 
 
 341 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Miss Horatio's was the strong heart which suffers 
 fiercely. The white face seemed to smile. But 
 nothing, no voice of agony, could break its peace. 
 
 "Miss Horatio," Elspeth whispered brokenly, 
 " he has gone to find her, he has gone to the world 
 that sets this one right. Perhaps he knows. I am 
 quite sure that he forgives. Oh, quite, quite sure!" 
 
 Gradually the girl's words, the peace of the dead 
 face, penetrated to Miss Horatio's soul. Hers was 
 a strong resolute spirit. She had borne her burden 
 of remorse, she would bear this great and crushing 
 disappointment. 
 
 "Hush," she said; "there is Lavender's voice 
 and Madame's! Hush, Elspeth! She must never 
 know. It would appal her. We keep his secret, 
 you and I, for ever." 
 
 " For ever," Elspeth said. 
 
 They clasped hands over the dead face. 
 
 And they went out, with a long, long look, 
 leaving him to his good rest. 
 
 342 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 " The West a-calling." 
 
 The lodgie was deserted, though the men were 
 back at the mill, and things had, to all intents 
 and purposes, resumed their normal aspect. The 
 rebellion had indeed fizzled out in a way that, as 
 Van Delden said, was " almost disgraceful ". He 
 would have liked, he said, to have the excuse of a 
 little punishment, of a little shooting. But the 
 chief of the malcontents safely lodged in jail, and 
 Pa-Eeis banished, the others were very soon 
 subdued, and only a few soldiers were deemed 
 necessary to watch for the first signs of insur- 
 rection. But the party was broken up; all were 
 on the point of flight. The old ladies were going 
 to Japan with Madame, for change and rest, where 
 she was to be joined by her husband later. Elspeth 
 was going home. 
 
 There had been no letter from Walter for weeks, 
 and her father was not well, and wrote rather 
 yearningly that he would be very glad to see her 
 again. He would like her to " come soon ". 
 
 343 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " You don't need me when you have Madame," 
 the girl said to her friends. " And Father needs 
 me. I must go now." 
 
 She did not say anything about Walter. She 
 told herself the letters must have gone wrong. 
 They all saw her oflF at Samarang — Van Delden 
 rather silent, Dick pale and thin, but apparently 
 cheerfnl. Madame held her close, last of all, and 
 they looked into each other's eyes. 
 
 They had come through dark ways together. 
 Neither would forget. 
 
 "We were strangers in a strange land," Elspeth 
 said to them all, smiling happily at last, on the 
 deck of the steamer, " And how good you were to 
 us! Java, in spite of all, is a land of happy and 
 grateful memories." 
 
 "And you come back, isn't it?" Van Delden said; 
 "you surely come back?" His voice was a little 
 husky in spite of himself 
 
 " She has promised." Madame smiled. Dick 
 said nothing. 
 
 He was looking at the ship with sullen eyes — the 
 ship that would carry her away. How he hated it! 
 
 And after she had gone (put into the captain's 
 charge by Madame and Miss Horatio) the two men 
 returned to the house very sadly. 
 
 " I feel that Java is empty," Van Delden said 
 mournfully, sitting down in his long cane chair 
 
 844 
 
"The West a-calling" 
 
 and taking out his cigar-case. " I feel that my 
 heart and my life are empty. We see her, Dick, 
 never again. She goes to be the wife of the hateful 
 M.P. Of all M.P.'s I could crack the skull." 
 
 " Some of them are rather crack-skulled," Dick 
 muttered with a feeble attempt at hilarity. "Do 
 you remember her song, Herman — the Scots song 
 she sang the first night? — 
 
 " ' It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, 
 It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava 
 
 That maks my heart eerie when a' the lave 's cheery 
 But just that she '11 aye be awa '. 
 
 " ' Aye awa ' ! That's the sting of it. But we've 
 got to take up our lives, and look to the thought 
 that she is happy. We have got to grin and bear 
 it. There's my mail. Hand me over that paper, 
 like a good chap." 
 
 Van Delden went off then to the other room, and 
 he was surprised when Dick called to him again. 
 
 "What is it, Dick? That pig -head boy has 
 my studs forgot. But you have some news — 
 news to startle?" 
 
 "It is, a bit," Dick said. " I feel bewildered. 
 It seems I missed a lot of letters — in the flood, I 
 suppose. My uncle, the old admiral, you remember, 
 left no son. I — have succeeded." 
 
 "'Succeeded!' I know it not. To be an ad- 
 miral?" 
 
 345 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "Not quite; but he was a baronet, and had a 
 biggish place in Hants. They want me to go home 
 at once. It seems the two sons were drowned, 
 poor chaps, in Scotland, and I come in next. I'll 
 have to go, Herman. It's an odd — change." 
 
 "And you, you are Sir Dick. Good gracious!" 
 (He had at last hit upon a safe and mUd expletive, 
 after long grief and pain.) " I know you not as 
 Sir Dick. And — ^you will go home. See her! And 
 I — am left quite desolate!" 
 
 They talked it all over. That very night Dick 
 went to tell Monsieur and get leave to depart. It 
 seemed dream-like and unreal. Yet soon the last 
 night came, and he and Van Delden were sitting 
 for the last time over a farewell pahit. Van Delden 
 was to come to England, next long leave, and stay 
 with his friend. Some day Dick was to come back 
 to Java, and see Herman as manager. They talked 
 as cheerfully as they could. 
 
 " And we go and see her in London. The M.P. 
 he will be in the Parliament-house," Van Delden 
 said. " At least we see her. Ah, if only, Dick — if 
 only — I could have spared her — to you! I could 
 have borne that to be. If only!" 
 
 Dick, as usual, said nothing. And so Java for 
 him, too, became a land of dreams very soon. 
 
 Elspeth had much of which to think, as the 
 
 346 
 
li 
 
 The West a-calling 
 
 ship bore her home, nearer and ever nearer to 
 England. 
 
 Her father's letter had vaguely alarmed her. It 
 was so unlike him to be ill; and then there was 
 Walter's strange sUence. She would not, however, 
 let herself dwell on that. All would be well, all 
 explained, when she saw him face to face. 
 
 At Colombo, amongst the arrivals, was a tall stout 
 man whose voice she thought she knew. But it 
 was not till she heard him ask the pretty and 
 fashionably-dressed girl with him to " fetch him 
 that Tauchnitz" that she recognized Evandene. 
 And then she turned in surprise and perplexity 
 to the man next her. 
 
 " Do you know who that is?" 
 
 " Yes. They are Colonel Evandene and his new 
 wife." 
 
 "His new wife?" 
 
 " Yes. The first one died just after landing last 
 year. A pretty, frail woman. He married again, 
 in a tremendous hurry. Just come into a pile of 
 money, and going home now. Do you know him?" 
 
 " I knew her," Elspeth said. 
 
 She avoided the soldier. Ever beside her she 
 had a vision of Amice's sad, colourless face. She 
 thought of Amice that night, leaning over the side 
 of the vessel and watching the stars reflected in 
 the rippling iridescent waves. She was fond of 
 
 347- 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 listening to the ship's long, quivering pulsations — 
 watching the watery way behind. 
 
 " Did she come to meet him — her spirit beckon- 
 ing to his? His eyes were so radiant! He would 
 feel at home then, at once, welcomed, glad. Oh, if 
 we knew ! If we only could pierce the veil, even a 
 little, little way!" 
 
 They were through the Indian Ocean, with its 
 flying-fish, and its long, hot days and nights. The 
 Southern Cross was being fast left behind, and the 
 balmy odours. She was in the great Canal, with 
 its hot, desert air, its quivering, flame-like heat, its 
 flamingoes, its lizards, its thin sedges pricking 
 through the shifting sides, its mirage of rocks and 
 pools and misty gray and green distance. 
 
 Past these strange and wondrous sunsets, orange 
 and red and gold, with the desert stretching dim 
 and mysterious on either side; the slow, painful 
 throb of the engines; and then a cooler air, lavender 
 clouds creeping over the glory of the west, the 
 faint edge of the moon glowing silver in the indigo 
 depths of the sky. 
 
 Across the Bitter Lake, and then the following 
 wash of the water, when the darkness fell, was the 
 only sound in the strange mystery of the scene, 
 where the white electric light pioneered the way. 
 At last the high revolving light of Suez. Deeper 
 water; the ship plunged ahead, as if glad and 
 
 348 
 
"The West a-calling" 
 
 eager; people looked up and drew a long, rapturous 
 breath. The boundary gate of the East was past. 
 They were on the other side. Suez past, the pilot 
 dropped, good headway once more. Orion on high, 
 and the Cross fading below the horizon. Home — 
 close and closer! 
 
 The East was slipping away and away, with 
 stretch of desert and white -robed natives, with 
 dusky faces, with bamboo and cocoa-nut and palm, 
 with burning sun and fever, and the strange, hot 
 wind; the gorgeous East, with its power, and its 
 fascination, and its weary home-sickness. 
 
 The West was a-calling, a-calling. It called loudly 
 to this English girl. 
 
 Elspeth raised her face to the cooler air, and she 
 answered, "Here, I come!" 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 London ! 
 
 Was she actually driving through its streets once 
 more? 
 
 There was no one to meet Elspeth. She had 
 not telegraphed either to her father or to Walter 
 from Marseilles. She had been full of the delight 
 of surprising them both, and the thought only 
 came to her with a sudden doubt as she was driving 
 to the modest lodgings in Sydney Street, where an 
 old servant was to take her in, that Walter might 
 have changed his abode. In one letter, indeed, she 
 remembered that he had mentioned thinking of 
 change, and the desirability of finding a flat nearer 
 Westminster. It struck her with a sense of glad 
 relief that this might indeed be the reason of her 
 not having heard from him. Supposing he had 
 given her the new address in those letters which 
 had been lost in the flood, and that he had there- 
 fore never received her last ones? 
 
 She telegraphed to her father " Coming down 
 
 S50 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 to-morrow", and when she took cab for Chelsea it 
 was late. She sat well forward to enjoy to the 
 full the rush and the roar of the streets. 
 
 How grimy they were! How mud-bespattered! 
 How leaden was the sky! How depressed the 
 pedestrians in their dull, dingy clothes! The girl 
 thought, with almost a sigh, of the blue-white 
 quiver of heat, of the light sunny clothes of the 
 East, of the slow languid stroll, the easy assur- 
 ance of life, the bread for the morrow that never 
 failed. 
 
 She forgot the peril of the last weeks, and the 
 fear. The sunshine seemed to beckon to her. 
 London impressed her with a sense of turmoil and 
 struggle, a sense of stress; the haggard anxiety 
 and fatigue in every weary face seemed to strike 
 her with a jarring note. 
 
 " If they were in Java they would know that 
 they could live for a penny a day, and that it 
 would not matter how many children they had," 
 she said to herself, smiling. "And yet this is a 
 part of home. It is England. Safe, great, shel- 
 tered England. And I am glad, glad to be home." 
 
 She was out early next morning, for she had 
 some shopping to do before she could face Walter. 
 
 The old ladies had pressed money upon her, and 
 Elspeth chose a fur coat and a gown of green 
 frieze, with toque of fur and lace, white edelweiss 
 
 351 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 nestling against the glowing coils of her hair. She 
 left Bond Street feeling more a part of London. 
 
 " I had no idea one could get so far behindhand 
 in one year," she said to herself, as, with a dainty- 
 swish of silken skirts, she stepped into the hansom, 
 and at last gave the address of Walter's flat. " The 
 shape of my hat was positively appalling, and 
 white ants had been at my serge skirt. Walter 
 could not have loved me, or been glad to see me, 
 in that gown. Men don't know how much differ- 
 ence dress makes in their estimate of women. That 
 sounds cynical, but it is true. I am sure it must 
 be hard to keep true to the image of a badly-dressed 
 woman." 
 
 She felt her pulses beat, and the blood rush to 
 her heart, when she paid the hansom, and went to 
 the enquiry -room in the block of flats. Would 
 he be in? When would he return? She could go 
 and have tea near, and then return, if he were out. 
 She could picture his face when he entered, his 
 voice, his eager hands. 
 
 " Is Mr. Walter Herbert in?" 
 
 "He don't live here any more. Miss. Left a 
 matter of six months since." 
 
 "Oh! Left!" She could not keep the disap- 
 pointment out of her voice, and the man looked up 
 sympathetically. " Can you not give me his ad- 
 dress?" 
 
 852 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 "Yes, I can, Miss. I have it here. Now and 
 then we forward letters. Oh, yes, here it is! 
 150 Queen Ann's Mansions. St. James's Park." 
 
 Elspeth knew the Mansions. 
 
 " He must have told me in those flood letters," 
 she was saying to herself. Then she hailed another 
 hansom and went on. This time, curiously enough, 
 she had a sense of disappointment, of dread. 
 
 It was strange. Strange he had not reiterated 
 the address, if he missed her letters. 
 
 She asked the porter at the Mansions if Mr. 
 Herbert was at home, and this time was reassured. 
 Yes, Mr. Herbert was in. 
 
 Elspeth trod on air. She did not use the lift. 
 She scarcely felt the stairs under her light, bound- 
 ing feet; she had rung and knocked before she 
 knew. Walter ! In another moment she would 
 see him face to face. 
 
 " Was Mr. Herbert at home?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. Walk in please." 
 
 A trim maid-servant; a small hall, very luxurious 
 underfoot, with a great bowl of exquisite chrysan- 
 themums on the Sheraton table, and a little glow 
 of light, very soft and permeating. He always 
 liked things pretty, even in his bachelor abode. 
 
 Would she sit down? The maid had opened a 
 white door. 
 
 Such a very dainty drawing-room! She looked 
 
 (B30) 363 z 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 round her with a smile, as she sank into the 
 low, cushioned lounge. Eich Chinese embroideries, 
 many flowers, a big sUver lamp, shaded, by the 
 piano, soft light, screened somehow above the dado, 
 a log fire — Walter always liked wood, — a table near, 
 with all the big quarterlies, and, yes, he was grow- 
 ing frivolous, even the lighter of the sixpennies. 
 
 How soon would he come? She had given her 
 name, but perhaps he was — 
 
 " I beg your pardon. You did say Mrs. Walter 
 Herbert, did you not?" 
 
 Elspeth turned round slowly, taking in these 
 words. 
 
 " You did say Mrs. Walter Herbert, did you not?" 
 
 Yes, she had heard just that. 
 
 A slight, very fashionably dressed girl, small- 
 headed, sweet, elegant, just a little languid. 
 
 She was dressed to go out. A rich sable stole 
 was a little thrown back. There was a long string 
 of gold beads round her neck, with which she 
 played, and a short string of pearls close to the 
 delicate throat, and some very fine cobwebby lace. 
 Elspeth took in all these details, slowly, slowly. 
 Her brain was saying over and over: " You did say 
 Mrs. Walter Herbert, did you not?" 
 
 Rather plaintively the sentence came again. 
 
 " She thinks I am crazy," Elspeth thought, and 
 rose slowly, turning round her colourless face. She 
 
 354 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 spoke with perfect self-possession, without a quiver 
 of lip. 
 
 Dick had said Elspeth was " game ". 
 
 "No, I said Mr. Walter Herbert. "You are— 
 his wife?" 
 
 "Yes. The maid made a mistake. But my 
 husband is in, if you particularly wish to see him." 
 
 There was a faint ring of curiosity in the languid 
 London voice, a faint suggestion of stiffness. 
 
 Mrs. Herbert let her gaze wander over the tall 
 girl before her. Good-looking decidedly, almost 
 beautiful, but very pale. Who could she be? 
 
 " I think I should like to see him," Elspeth 
 heard herself saying. " Perhaps it would be as 
 well. I shall not keep him long." 
 
 "Perhaps you called about the bazaar? Lady 
 Geraldine said she would send her secretary to 
 come and tell us about the opening ceremony." 
 
 " No. I am not the secretary." 
 
 "Ah! Then I will send my husband. Good- 
 afternoon!" 
 
 " Good-afternoon!" 
 
 The frigid salute of two Englishwomen, strangers 
 to each other, which is unlike that of any other 
 nation, and is not to be admired. 
 
 She was gone. 
 
 Elspeth stood where she was, cold, torpid. Then 
 the door opened, and he stood before her. Walter! 
 
 855 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 Walter, for whom ste had yearned and longed! 
 Walter, whom she had loved ! 
 
 He shut it carefully. Then advanced, and stood 
 by the fireplace in his old attitude, his hands behind 
 him. 
 
 Point-devise, handsome, a little flushed, a slight 
 angry gleam in his eyes, rather a militant look. 
 
 "Is it possible you did not get my letters, Els- 
 pethl Why are you here?" 
 
 " Because I did not get your letters. They 
 were lost in a flood. Do you mind telling me, as 
 briefly as possible, what was in them?" She spoke 
 slowly but quite steadily. 
 
 " I wrote, after your rather hysterical and senti- 
 mental reproaches, saying that the whole tone of 
 your letters betrayed to me that we were unsuited. 
 I deprecated any quarrel, but I asked if it would 
 not be better to end the engagement. After that 
 I heard nothing for many weeks. I presumed you 
 had taken that method of tacitly agreeing to my 
 proposition. Events had transpired which threw 
 me into the society of my wife. She was left an 
 orphan and very desolate. It was thought best 
 that we should have an early and strictly private 
 marriage. Her aunt, and only relative, the 
 Countess of Mull, was leaving for Algiers. It 
 was only after our marriage that some of your 
 letters were forwarded to me from the old flat, 
 
 356 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 where they had lain in the letter-box, and I saw 
 you had not heard, or read my letters. I wrote 
 then to Java, explaining fully." 
 
 " I see; and by that time I had left." 
 
 They stood quite silent. A great cloud was 
 settling on the girl's brain. She had a horrible 
 dream-like sense of unreality. This was a dream, 
 only a dream. She would wake up presently and 
 be Elspeth again. Elspeth who hoped, and 
 laughed, and played, and joked. Elspeth, whom 
 Walter loved. 
 
 He was married. 
 
 She must do something. Say something. 
 
 The girl outside, his wife, would be waiting. 
 
 " I must not keep you," she found herself say- 
 ing in the polite voice one uses to a distant 
 acquaintance. " I quite see. It is all quite 
 plain." 
 
 Too many "quites". She corrected the sen- 
 tence mentally as she would a proof She deleted 
 the " quites ". 
 
 He drew a little nearer. He looked suddenly 
 uncomfortable. She was so horribly white. 
 
 "You are not ill, Elspeth? Won't you sit 
 down?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no, thank you! I lost my colour in 
 the East, that is all;" she rubbed one white sufede 
 glove over her cheek. " And we had rather a 
 
 357 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 trying time lately — quite an adventure. Fit for 
 the story you always wanted me to write. But 
 I must be going. Good-bye!" 
 
 "You see? You understand? It all seemed 
 rapid, but the circumstances — " 
 
 "Yes, of course, the circumstances, as you say. 
 And we live in a rapid age." 
 
 " Won't you shake hands?" 
 
 He wished she would say something, anything 
 reproachful, bitter, angry. If she would only be 
 angry. But it would be vulgar to be angry, and 
 Elspeth was never vulgar. 
 
 "Yes, of course," she said, and held out her 
 hand. " And I congratulate you both very 
 heartily. Please tell Mrs. Herbert so, if she would 
 care. Will you ring?" 
 
 He opened the door. There was a big space of 
 delicate, rose-coloured carpet between them; some- 
 how he could not cross it. 
 
 He had followed her out. The maid was at the 
 door. 
 
 " Good-afternoon!" Elspeth said. 
 
 And Walter Herbert heard his own voice say 
 politely, "Good-afternoon!" 
 
 "Who is she, Walter?" his wife asked at his 
 elbow. And then, scarcely waiting for an answer, 
 " And now do come. The motor has been waiting 
 half an hour. Geraldine will be wild." 
 
 858 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 "You must go yourself, Eugenia," he said, and 
 went into the study. " I am sorry, but I have 
 letters to write." 
 
 He went ia and shut the door. 
 
 "Positively rude," Mrs. Walter thought ag- 
 grievedly as she rang for the lift, "positively 
 rude." 
 
 Elspeth walked on; she forgot about taking a 
 hansom, and it was quite clear, though it was 
 dark. 
 
 The gas was all lit, and the electric light. She 
 wandered on and on, turning now to the right, 
 now to the left, quite mechanically. She held her 
 head high, though her heart was down, crushed 
 down, and someone was holding it there with cold, 
 cruel hands. 
 
 She suflFered dumbly. She was tearing out 
 something by the roots. She was burying it 
 out of sight. She would never look on its dead 
 face again. But life could never be quite the 
 same. 
 
 She had heard of such things. " When they 
 happen to other people one does not realize them," 
 she said to herself. " I shall never believe in love 
 any more. He has killed love to me; killed the 
 most beautiful thing in the world. I feel as if 
 even God were rather cruel." 
 
 359 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 She found herself on the bridge then, West- 
 minster Bridge, the proud fagade of the stately 
 Parliament Houses behind her. Could she ever 
 face that again? Walter's House. She had pic- 
 tured herself so often waiting, sitting up there, in 
 the ladies' gallery. The lights were twinkling on 
 the river, on the black, leaping water; a big barge 
 swung slowly by on the tide; over yonder was 
 the terrace and the hospital. Big Ben was boom- 
 ing six above -her. The flag was flying from the 
 Tower in token that the House was sitting. Had 
 Walter gone back? 
 
 The great city roared and raved all around. 
 The ceaseless traffic, the ceaseless ebb and flow of 
 human life. "What can it matter to God?" the 
 girl said to herself scornfully. " A little pin-prick 
 to one of the moths. What can it matter?" 
 
 The bitter sense of her own infinitesimal egoism 
 pressed upon her fiercely. She had only been a 
 happy girl. What was one happy girl to high 
 heaven? In Java they had said — Java! 
 
 She was leaning over the coping, and the 
 thought gave her a little start. The roar of the 
 passing traffic grew far-off for a moment. She 
 could see the clearly -cut cocoa-nut leaves, the 
 white stars of the gardenias, the long stately road, 
 Dick's kind eyes, and Van Delden's, the dark 
 mournfulness of Harry Bouverie's dying gaze. 
 
 360' - 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 What had she said to him? What gospel had 
 she preached to his suffering? And his — compared 
 to hers? 
 
 " I, who preached to others, shall I myself be 
 a castaway?" 
 
 Gradually, gently, like far-off music, comfort, a 
 faint echo of comfort stole over her. It was not 
 true that love was naught. Love was great, and 
 self-forgetting was unselfish. Amice's sad eyes — 
 tender, prayerful, — Harry's cold fingers closing on 
 her cross, what was their story but witness to love's 
 potency, to its immortality? And Dick, and Van 
 Delden. Her father. Madame's gentle face. 
 
 " God lent me something for a little," she said 
 to herself, " a bright toy which I loved. He took 
 it back. But there is so much left. There is 
 work left. I won't cry out. I won't waO.. I will 
 be brave." 
 
 She took her arms off the parapet. A ragged 
 woman, hovering near, begged from her, and she 
 felt for her purse and gave her a shilling. 
 
 "You frightened me. Miss," the woman whis- 
 pered, looking up at her. " I thought you'd never 
 lift your head. It don't do to stare down at the 
 water like that. I've seen a many — But you 
 was a lady, and so pretty dressed. Go home, my 
 dear, go home!" 
 
 The familiarity did not jar. It was too earnest 
 
 361 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and pleading. The sad eyes of this poor wreck of 
 humanity did not hurt her. 
 
 " I am going," Elspeth said, and almost smiled. 
 When she looked up the woman had crept away as 
 if reassured. 
 
 She hailed the first passing omnibus for Victoria, 
 and was soon in Sydney Street. There was an 
 evening train for Drelinford, and though she had 
 not meant to go till next day, she took it, arriving 
 very late. 
 
 The familiar village street seemed to surround 
 her with kind arms as she walked through it, after 
 telling the man to send up her boxes; and her 
 heart beat to suffocation when she saw the little 
 white gate and the old garden. A few wilted 
 chrysanthemums were hanging dejected heads in 
 the plots. " They need my care," she said to herself 
 The brass knocker was not so bright as usual, nor 
 the plate with her father's name. 
 
 She crept round by the study, seeing a light, 
 and looked in. Her father was seated in his old 
 chair. It had grown oddly shabby, and he — he 
 was looking very gray and old and tired. He had 
 been ill, she could see, for an invalid tray was at 
 his elbow, and she could see him cough and then 
 lean back pantingly. " His old bronchitis, and no 
 one to look after him. How many nights has he 
 be sitting up with patients?" 
 
 362 
 
Mrs. Walter Herbert 
 
 She crept round again and slipped in. She 
 forgot about Walter. She forgot about Java. Her 
 father was old and tired and sad. He needed her. 
 Life for him, too, had been a bit of a failure, had 
 been hard and disappointing. She would fill it, 
 fill it full of sunshine. 
 
 She opened the door and stood there, a radiant 
 vision with shining, love-lit eyes. 
 
 "Daddy!" 
 
 He rose with a cry, a little cry that told her 
 how hard and long the parting had been. 
 
 " My little girl! My little girl! My bairn!" 
 
 She was in his arms, sobbing her heart out. 
 
 " But all with joy," she cried, when he raised 
 her face. "All with joy." 
 
 363 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Dick's Letter. 
 
 Van Delden received a very long letter from Dick, 
 some months after this, which he perused one 
 peculiarly suffocating evening, when he was seated 
 in his long cane chair on the veranda, the usual 
 decanters and glasses of pahit at his elbow. 
 Whether it was the heat or the contents of the 
 letter itself cannot now be said, but presently the 
 reader wrenched his high collar from its gold stud 
 and flung it fiercely into one corner, with a string 
 of muflfled sentences which, though they were not 
 borrowed, this time, from the Scots engineer on 
 the Dutch man-of-war, might have been sufficiently 
 alarming to Miss Lavender had she been present 
 and heard them. 
 
 We may take the liberty of glancing over his 
 shoulder and picking up the thread of Beresford's 
 discourse as follows: — 
 
 " Now that I have told you all about the voyage, 
 I come to something which will interest you, I know, 
 even more. I went down at once, after I had got 
 
 364 
 
Dick's Letter 
 
 myself a few clothes, to the admiral's place. I don't 
 think of it as mine even now. I had never 
 seen it before, as you know; I fancy my father 
 and the old sailor were not very good friends. 
 It is a lovely place, with a sweet old vUlage cluster- 
 ing round it, and the people were very nice and 
 kind, and made me feel more at home than I had 
 ever done in England in my life. They were 
 almost as kind as the Dutch in Java." Van 
 Delden broke off at that point, to drink to Dick 
 and their very good friendship. "So I made 
 up my mind that I had better stop there for a bit 
 and get to know them. There were things also to 
 be looked into, about the estate. My uncle was 
 an old man, and the steward had never dared to 
 bother him about a lot of sanitation, and some 
 new model cottages he wanted to build in the 
 village. We were in the midst of that, and 
 I had got an architect down from town, when 
 I had an invitation to a big charity bazaar 
 in the nearest county town. I don't know if 
 you give charity bazaars in Holland; they are as 
 plentiful as mushrooms here, and are very rum 
 proceedings altogether. A man goes in, and if he 
 hasn't a heap of money he very soon comes out 
 again. They rooked me, of course, and I went 
 about like a lamentable beast of burden, laden with 
 fat pin-cushions, and pink and white satin sachets, 
 
 365 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 and a lot of women's flummery that I heaved into 
 the housekeeper's room when I went home. While 
 I was in the midst of this my man of business 
 came up and said he wanted to introduce me to 
 our member. 
 
 "'What member?' I asked. 'Oh, you mean 
 Member of Parliament!' Somehow it made me 
 think of Elspeth then, and of that man. Well, it 
 seemed almost as if he had read my thoughts, for 
 he went on : 'It is Mr. Walter Herbert, you know, 
 Sir Eichard, he is a very good man, very well 
 known. I dare say you remember seeing his name 
 in the papers. We are all very proud of him. He 
 will be in the Cabinet, some people say, when his 
 party comes into power.' 
 
 " I stood still, feeling first hot and then cold. 
 You remember, old chap, how we both loathed the 
 sound of his name, though I don't suppose we 
 had much reason, then. And then he went on: 
 ' There he is on the platform. He is going to give 
 a bit of a speech presently, and explain the ini- 
 quities of the last government bill. That's his 
 wife, that pretty, fair woman with the white furs.' 
 I gazed at him, feeling as if either he or I must be 
 mad. 'His wife?' I gasped, for I had seen the 
 lady and it was not Elspeth, not our Elspeth at all. 
 
 "'Are you quite sure that is Mrs. Herbert?' I 
 said. ' I have heard of him, and I thought he 
 
 366 
 
Dick's Letter 
 
 was engaged.' — I broke off then, for he was look- 
 ing at me as if he thought I was rather odd. 
 
 " ' Yes, I am quite sure that it is his wife,' he 
 said. " She is the niece of the Countess of Mull, 
 and the marriage has given him a great leg-up. 
 She is a distant cousin of the Prime Minister's, and 
 very rich besides.' 
 
 " I didn't say another word, I was taking it all in. 
 He had thrown over Elspeth for this girl! It was 
 all in a nutshell. I was still standing thinking of 
 it, and I think I was cursing him under my breath, 
 when he came up, very suave and dapper, and we 
 were introduced. I don't know that my manners 
 were ever much to boast of, but I know that to 
 say they were bad on this occasion expresses the 
 matter mildly. I felt a kind of insensate fury for 
 a while, when I thought of her hurrying home, 
 when I thought of the colour that came into her 
 face that night at the temple when she spoke his 
 name. And there he was, another woman's hus- 
 band! 
 
 " ' I am sure I may reckon on your support. Sir 
 Eichard,' he said last of all, after talking a lot of 
 nothings. He kept gazing over my head all the 
 time, smiling and bowing to people, though he was 
 very pleasant and patronizing, and I imagine I 
 answered by a kind of growl, for I could see him 
 start and look at me, and half- frown and change 
 
 367 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 colour. I went off then, with my sachets and pin- 
 cushions, and that is the last I saw of Mr. Walter 
 Herbert. The other fellow, the lawyer, was pull- 
 ing his sleeve and whispering something in his ear. 
 I dare say he was telling him that I had lived 
 among savages so long that I had picked up some- 
 thing of their manners. I thought a lot about it, 
 and yet I could not write to her, or say anything. 
 I felt as if I could not go and see her. I wanted 
 to wait till she had got over it and put that man 
 in his proper place, which was in the background 
 of her life. Yet somehow. Van Delden, and I 
 know you will understand, I could not rest till I 
 had seen her! I did not write to ' Oom Tobbs', 
 but I took the train down to Drelinford one 
 Sunday, and I went for the night to a little inn I 
 used to know, outside the village. The old ladies 
 were not back yet, I heard, but she was there with 
 her father. It was the queerest thing going about 
 that village; I felt like my own ghost. There 
 was the place where I hooked my first trout, and 
 the wood where I got caught in a rabbit snare, 
 and the road where I broke my leg; it was the 
 strangest sensation. And then I went to church 
 in the evening, and got behind a big stone pillar, 
 close beside an old monument of a crusader which 
 I used to sit and look at when I was a little kid. 
 It all came back to me as if it had been yesterday, 
 
 368 
 
Dick's Letter 
 
 and I could see my aunt staring at me over her 
 prayer-book, and frowning when we fidgeted, or 
 giggled and nudged each other. But by and by I 
 forgot all these things, for I saw her come into 
 church. She was a good deal paler, or she seemed 
 so to me, and of course she was dressed differently. 
 Her face was thinner, too, and there was a different 
 look about it. I sat and watched her — her profile 
 was right in my view — I sat and watched her all 
 the time. It seemed to me, Van Delden, almost 
 as if I could read her thoughts. I used to feel as 
 if I had a kind of way of reading her thoughts in 
 Java. ' Oom Tobbs' was the same as ever; his fat 
 Father Christmas sort of face was as placid as of 
 old, and he looked just as he used to do, somehow 
 as if he were stuffed with saw-dust. I suppose he 
 is a good little parson, but his sermon was awful 
 stuff, and I couldn't have caught on if I'd wanted to. 
 Once or twice he said a funny thing, with such an 
 awful air of having found out something original 
 and new, and I could see her lips twitch in the old 
 humorous way. I knew she was dying to laugh, 
 as I was myself. And then they sang one of the 
 sweet old hymns, and the music and the words 
 carried us right away, far beyond Uncle Tubbs's 
 poor little sermon. Carried her, I dare say, into a 
 realm where I could not follow her, and her eyes 
 looked sad and tired for a little, and I could see 
 
 (B30) 369 2 A 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 her clasp her bare hands in her lap. I dare say 
 she was thinking of him; there hasn't been time 
 enough yet for her to place him in the background 
 that I spoke of You will wonder, perhaps, that I 
 did not go up and speak to her, but somehow I 
 could not, Herman ; I felt as if I should make her 
 think of how she had told me about that man. I 
 wanted to wait till she had forgotten. 
 
 "And now, old friend, I want just to say one 
 thing. We both loved her, and as you spoke first 
 before, I want you to have a fair chance, as you 
 are not on the spot, and speak first, if you want to, 
 this time, too! I know she liked you, and you are 
 such an awfully good fellow. But there, I can't 
 say any more, only you see how it is." 
 
 Dick was not, perhaps, at all a model letter- 
 writer, but Van Delden quite understood all the 
 unfinished sentences. And he let the letter fall 
 on his knee for a moment now, as he sat there 
 thinking, his pleasant face grave and set, his 
 mind groping back in the past. 
 
 Presently he got note-paper and envelopes, and 
 placing them near the lamp with its circles of 
 buzzing insects, and the musical hum of the mos- 
 quitoes in his ear, he sat down to send Dick an 
 answer. Last of all he wrote this: — 
 
 "It is very good of you, my friend, to say what 
 you have said about my writing to Elspeth by and 
 
 370 
 
Dick's Letter 
 
 by. I quite agree with you that the place for the 
 hateful M.P. is in her background, and I have no 
 doubt that he will very soon indeed be there. I 
 have said to myself some very bad words, which 
 I know would have shocked the old ladies very 
 much if they had heard them, when I have read 
 your telling of him. It would to me have been a 
 relief if I could have boxed with him; you know 
 what I would say, and his head have badly punched, 
 but, after all, this may be a blessing in a different 
 dress — you have the expression, I think. But, 
 Dick, old chap, I will not write to Miss Macdonald ! 
 It is not that I do not feel the same to her, for to 
 me she is the one star in my sky, and so wUl ever 
 be, but I know that I have no chance, and that it 
 would only be to pain her to me refuse. For, Dick, 
 I have seen her face when she has helped me to 
 nurse you, when you so nearly dead have been. I 
 have said to myself then, that had not the M.P. 
 lived, you would have won your suit with her; she 
 has liked you very much even then. I have seen 
 the tears come in her so sweet eyes, when the doctor 
 has said that you had not many chances for the 
 return of life. She and I together, I think we have 
 saved your life, old chap, and I write this now to 
 say that I give up my share of you to her. By and 
 by she wUl smile again, and the red will be once 
 more in her cheek, and she will laugh again, the old 
 
 m 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 laugh that was like no other I have ever heard. 
 So I wiU not write; I too wUl wait, and by and by 
 you will send me good news. But it is you who 
 will to her speak, not I." 
 
 He finished the letter and dried it carefully, and 
 then he sat for a long time thinking, his head sunk 
 forwards on his chest, his kindly eyes very fixed 
 and stern. Yet there was a strange peace at his 
 heart, and the renunciation was not so hard as it 
 might have been. 
 
 " For Dick is the very good chap," he murmured 
 to himself in English, "and he will make her so 
 happy as the day is long ! And I — I will only think 
 of that." 
 
 Things had quietened down all round by this 
 time, and people began to forget all the old storms 
 and terrors. The men were back at work in the 
 mill, Pa-Reis and the hadjis were banished, and, 
 more than this, sugar prices were going up. Some- 
 times it seemed difficult to Van Delden to believe 
 that the old ladies and their charge had ever been 
 in his house. There was prospect, too, of a change 
 for him, and he too would presently leave Seradjo 
 to take charge of a certain important mill which 
 had been offered to him. The page of his life was 
 about to be turned, and by and by there would be 
 his vendutie (sale). He was going to make a clean 
 sweep of all his furniture, he said, only one thing 
 
 372 
 
Dick's Letter 
 
 would go with him, and that was the piano on 
 which he and she had played and sung together. 
 For that piano would never be sold! 
 
 It was the last thing left in the veranda, when 
 everything else had gone to the sale, and he stood 
 alone in his bare and desolate house. He could 
 conjure up the whole scene as he stood there in 
 the darkness; the sweet scent of the orange blos- 
 soms mingling with his memories, and seeming to 
 form a subtle undercurrent to them all. He could 
 see Elspeth in her white dress, and could hear 
 again the low sweet timbre of her voice. He had 
 taken pains to learn several of her Scots songs, and 
 it was natural, perhaps, that the last verse of his 
 favourite one should come again to his memory as 
 he stood there. It was quite wonderful, Elspeth 
 had always said, how Van Delden seemed to ap- 
 preciate the minor subtleties, the unstrained pathos 
 of the Scots language. 
 
 " It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, 
 It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava 
 
 That maks my heart eerie when a' the lave 's cheery, 
 But just that she '11 aye be awa', awa, 
 But just that she '11 aye be awa." 
 
 Yes; but now it was different, and though she 
 would " aye be awa' ", she was with someone whom 
 he knew and loved! 
 
 Dick was not the kind of man to let a fellow 
 
 373 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 drop. Dick was the kind of fellow who would be 
 just the same though thousands of miles of stormy 
 waters rolled between them, though they were of 
 another race and country, though there were many, 
 many things to separate them. Dick would be 
 always Dick; and she, yes, she would be always 
 Elspeth! 
 
 Some day they would all clasp hands again ; he 
 felt sure it would all come right. 
 
 " I think she did not know, but I think she has 
 loved him a little all the time," Van Delden said to 
 himself " No one has seen it but me, but I have 
 seen it, because I loved her, and because I waited 
 and watched for that look in her eyes which never 
 came there for me. Yes, it will all come right, and 
 I am glad. It will be there in her eyes for Dick." 
 
 The piano went with him to his new home, and 
 never, it may be said, took part in any vendutie. 
 
 374 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 Van Delden gives his Blessing 
 
 It was one year later, and Elspeth was just turn- 
 ing in at Bouverie gate on her way to welcome the 
 old ladies home. They had lingered long in Japan, 
 where Miss Horatio had been ill, and then they 
 had gone to the Hague with Madame for a little. 
 People began to conclude that they were chronic 
 travellers. 
 
 " A most extraordinary thing," as Mr. Tubbs 
 used to say sententiously. "At their age too! 
 And without asking advice from anyone" (he 
 meant himself). " And with the parish requiring 
 them! When the big house of the parish is 
 empty it almost trebles the work in the clergy- 
 man's hands. And with Dissent really advancing 
 with such strides!" 
 
 Elspeth had heard from him of his nephew Dick's 
 good fortune, but she did not know that Sir 
 Eichard Beresford had been to Drelinford, though 
 the whole family of Tubbs had paid a long and 
 ecstatic visit to Beresford Place, where, the children 
 
 375 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 told Elspeth, there were more strawberries than 
 anywhere else in the world, and where Uncle Dick 
 was "just a ripping good fellow". 
 
 She had smUed at that. 
 
 She thought of Dick oftener than she knew. 
 He was mixed up with all her Java dreams — in- 
 extricably mingled. Only last night she had 
 dreamed of the flood, and everything had been 
 so vivid that she had wakened half-expecting to 
 find the white mosquito-curtains around her, and 
 Malia, with her little tray of fruit, waiting for her 
 to wake. She had found out one day that Dick 
 always chose her morning fruit himself. 
 
 The freshest pine, and the largest bananas — the 
 best mangosteens! How kind he had been to 
 everyone — but surely most of all to her! She" 
 had seen, lately, love defined by Stevenson as 
 " passionate kindness ". She had thought at the 
 time of Dick. His love would have been pas- 
 sionate kindness! Something made her remember 
 the scene on the Bbra Bofedor terrace, and as she 
 opened the gate now she thought of Dick's eager, 
 loving look. How the light had died out of his 
 face when she had told him of Walter! 
 
 Walter was getting on very fast. He was spoken 
 of as a man sure to be included in the new Cabinet; 
 a certain big post was mentioned in connection 
 with his name. Nowadays, through his wife, he 
 
 376 
 
Van Delden gives his Blessing 
 
 had relatives in very influential quarters. But 
 Elspeth did not hover over political gossip in these 
 days. She had shut that door in her heart for 
 ever and ever. 
 
 The house was very bright and warm when she 
 entered, using, as was her wont, a little side en- 
 trance. She had brought some flowers for Miss 
 Horatio's bureau — some white carnations from her 
 own little greenhouse, — and she was making her 
 way through the corridors to the drawing-room, 
 when she met Betty, the old ladies' housekeeper, 
 hurrying along with some linen over her arm. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Elspeth, I'm so glad to see you!" she 
 said. " We were just hoping you would come, for 
 there is a gentleman waiting to see the ladies. He 
 said he would wait — and didn't give his name — 
 and they arriving, and all! We didn't know who 
 he was — though we did think a gentleman — and 
 he just sat down — as if so very determined." 
 
 " I'll go and interview him, Betty," Elspeth said, 
 rather amused. "It does seem odd; but I don't 
 think he can be anyone very dreadful." 
 
 She opened the drawing-room door then, and 
 saw a man's tall figure standing by the mantel- 
 piece, where he was steadfastly regarding her own 
 picture. 
 
 Elspeth did not recognize Dick — in a brown 
 tweed suit. She had always seen him in white 
 
 377 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 linen. She gave a little gasp when he turned 
 round. 
 
 "Dick! You!" 
 
 The words escaped her before she thought; per- 
 haps more escaped her than she knew, in the 
 lovely leaping red in her cheek, in the gladness 
 of her voice. Somehow it seemed so bewilder- 
 ingly delightful to see Dick again! His face 
 glowed in answer, and a radiant and eager joy 
 sprang into his blue eyes. He was by her side in 
 a moment, his hands gripping hers. For once Sir 
 Eichard Beresford found speech easy. That lovely 
 colour, these smiling eyes, had unlocked his heart. 
 
 " It is herself!" he said. " It is her very self! 
 And I've been a starving man — for a year! But 
 I didn't like to come. I heard of his — mar- 
 riage! I wanted to — kill him! So did Van 
 Delden. Shouldn't I say that, Elspeth? I always 
 say the wrong thing. But I'm so — so happy — 
 I don't know what I'm saying!" 
 
 " It is wrong to wish to kill people," Elspeth said. 
 
 Dick's delight was so infectious that she could 
 not help smiling too. And then she moved away. 
 But Dick followed, and caught both hands. He 
 could not wait. He could not! He had waited 
 for a year. 
 
 "Elspeth!" he said. "Could you ever — " 
 
 "What, Dick?" 
 
 378 
 
Van Delden gives his Blessing 
 
 "Forget!" 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 He put both hands on her shoulders. The 
 bronze hair, all sun-flecked, was near, the sweet 
 creamy face was upraised. 
 
 " You are all the world to me," Dick whispered, 
 his hands encircling it fondly then. " From the 
 very first moment I saw you my fate was sealed! 
 And that night, in the flood — " 
 
 "When you carried me through the water! I 
 dreamed of it only last night! And the dawn in 
 the sky! The white silvery radiance!" 
 
 " I will carry you above all the troubles of life 
 in the same way!" Dick whispered, "Tell me. 
 Whisper! May I?" 
 
 She whispered — in his ear! 
 
 "And to see Dick — ^to find him here, on the 
 threshold, as it were," Miss Lavender murmured 
 that night at dinner. " It is quite like Java. We 
 only want the boy waiting — " 
 
 " And greasy soup," Dick put in, " and Van 
 Delden using language that would drive the ' Oom 
 Tobbs' into seven fits. Van Delden thinking all 
 the time he was extremely fluent and easy! Do 
 you remember the day he told you to ' dry up ', 
 Miss Lavender?" 
 
 379 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 "That was your mischief, Dick; and he was a 
 most agreeable man ! But oh, do you know I have 
 lost all my notes? I mix up his stories worse than 
 ever. It is a pity, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes — I'm not sure." Sir Eichard twinkled 
 wickedly over at the other two. " Never mind, he 
 is coming over next long leave. He will tell you 
 a brand-new collection. Van Delden's imagination 
 is as good as ever. He is coming to visit Elspeth 
 and me." 
 
 "How nice it sounds!" Miss Lavender said. 
 
 Miss Horatio looked over at the two with very 
 gentle eyes. 
 
 " And your father, my dear?" 
 
 " Father is going to live with us. Dick insists. 
 He will have time at last to write his great book 
 on diseases of the chest. I took Dick over. The 
 Dad and Dick smoked an interminable pipe. 
 Father says he has just the same mischievous eyes 
 he had as a boy." 
 
 " I think they are very kind eyes," Miss Lavender 
 said, " if they are mischievous." 
 
 She was afraid, evidently, of Dick's feelings being 
 hurt. 
 
 Later the old ladies saw the lovers to the door, 
 when they were to walk home under a very starry 
 sky. 
 
 " That sky makes me think of Java," Miss 
 
 380 
 
Van Delden gives his Blessing 
 
 Lavender said, "only we miss the Cross. I did 
 like the Cross! Java seems like a dream now. 
 Sometimes I wonder — it is so ridiculous of me, 
 for I suppose I knew — why we ever went. Why 
 did we, Horatio?" 
 
 Miss Horatio's eyes, a little wistful, with a 
 hidden ache and shrinking, met Elspeth's. She 
 did not reply, and Miss Lavender babbled on 
 about something else. 
 
 But both saw, as in a vision, Harry's dead face, 
 with the white moonbeam falling over it. Both 
 remembered why they had gone — and how they 
 had failed. 
 
 But no one spoke. 
 
 Sir Richard and Lady Beresford are settled at 
 the Place now, where Doctor Macdonald is tasting 
 the sweets of leisure after a long working day, but 
 they come to Drelinford very often, and one day 
 they will revisit Java, where Van Delden has now 
 his own mill. 
 
 Everything there is prosperous and quiet. 
 
 He sent them a cable on the wedding-day, 
 which Dick showed his wife after the ceremony: 
 
 " I send to each my best blessing, and I drink 
 to-night to the happiness of both the two in Scots 
 whisky! — Van Delden." 
 
 "He is the best fellow in the world!" Dick said. 
 
 381 
 
Strangers in the Land 
 
 " I wonder if he will sing ' Scots wha haver ' in our 
 honour. Do you remember, Elspeth, that night?" 
 Elspeth's smile seemed to tell them that she 
 remembered, very well. 
 
 By the side of the sluggish little stream where 
 Eedjo's house stood, Nami sits sometimes in the 
 swiftly-falling dusk, her small brown hands clasped 
 round her knees. 
 
 The natives are praying on their mats, their 
 faces turned to the glowing West. On the stately 
 shaded road the sapies pace slowly, and the creak- 
 ing wagons move slowly homewards. 
 
 Her mournful eyes are turned to the West — 
 seeking, always seeking. They will seek till the 
 cool touch of death quietens and satisfies; gives 
 to them the mysterious contented surrender of the 
 last look. 
 
 Redjo is buried in the European quarter. It was 
 so arranged. 
 
 There are English words on the white marble 
 cross — words which Madame translated for Nami, 
 but which Miss Horatio chose: 
 
 "And God shall wipe away all tears from their 
 eyes, and there shall be no more death." 
 
 Nami did not quite understand. 
 
 All along she had not understood. 
 
 But the little one had been hers! And Madame 
 
Van Delden gives his Blessing 
 
 told her he and the little one were together — some- 
 where ! White women spoke the truth. Also they 
 knew a great deal. 
 
 If that was so — one day — might she not creep 
 in "somewhere" — somewhere, where, even afar off, 
 she could see them? Just to sit, afar off, and look 
 upon them! 
 
 Nami waits still — and thinks, and remembers, 
 and tries to hope. 
 
 THE EWD 
 
 388