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SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
LONDON : 
 ROBS03J AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 £(){ Storu of a Manbtm. 
 
 By JAMES GRANT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' THE ROMANCE OP WAR,' ' UNDER THE RED DRAGOX, 
 ■ FAIRER THAN A FAIRY,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 YOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8 CATHERINE ST. STRAND. 
 
 1874. 
 
 [All rights reserved.. ] 
 
f^ 3 
 
 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1 Well, by Jove ! Dick, of all the strange ad- 
 ventures it has been my lot to have, this meet- 
 ing with you in the bush here is certainly the 
 strangest of all. Tell me all about it — how it 
 has come to pass, I mean.' 
 
 ; It is most singular, Gerard,' replied the 
 other, with sadness in his tone, as he clasped 
 his friend's hand for the third time ; ' and there 
 was a period when you little thought to see 
 
 - Dick Haddon in such a guise as this.' 
 
 The speakers were Gerard Douglas, a cap- 
 
 i tain of the 74th Highlanders, then proceed- 
 ing with a party of that regiment towards 
 
 <^5 tne Amatola mountains, and myself, Eichard 
 Haddon, whilom an officer in the Queen's 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 
 * 
 
2 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 service, but now, by the freaks of fortune, a 
 C afire trader, and the scene of our sudden 
 meeting and mutual recognition was near 
 Hell's Kloof, on the Great Fish Kiver — a wild 
 spot in Southern Africa, distant about fifty 
 miles from Algoa Bay. 
 
 The May evening was closing, but the 
 southern sky was clear and bright. Rocky 
 hills shut in the landscape, and in the light 
 of the two huge watch fires — prepared by the 
 halted Highlanders and the Hottentot helps 
 of your humble servant, the Caere trader — 
 the prickly pears, the scarlet and lilac gera- 
 niums, the African aloes in full flower, were 
 distinctly visible in the foreground; while be- 
 yond and around spread the silent and voice- 
 less forest and jungle, out of which there flew 
 from time to time the bright golden spreuw, 
 the honeybird, and the oriole, scared by our 
 lights and voices; while there were gloomier 
 features to the picture, for among the millet 
 and melons that grew wild under the pine 
 trees the bare brown feet and muscular legs 
 of some dead Caffres protruded, and more 
 than one feathered assegai, or reedy lance, 
 with its steel head stuck in the turf, just as 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 3 
 
 the hands of the dead had launched it, bore 
 evidence of a recent conflict. 
 
 Our two fires burned brightly. Near one 
 stood my travelling waggon, seventeen feet 
 long, covered by a tarpaulin roof, drawn by 
 twelve tough little Faderland oxen, and at- 
 tended by four Hottentots, who had all served 
 in the Cape Mounted Rifle Corps, their attire 
 consisting of tattered vests and pantaloons, 
 with quaint cloth caps, and each was armed 
 with a heavy musket and knife, and had a 
 large powder-horn slung over his left shoulder. 
 
 Captain Douglas and his party of High- 
 landers were somewhat quaint in aspect too, 
 their uniform not being precisely such as 
 would pass muster at Aldershott or St. 
 James's Park. Their bonnets and plaids, red 
 coats, and other bravery, had been replaced 
 by a costume more suitable to a warfare in 
 the wild bush of the Cape Colony. They still 
 retained their tartan trews, but wore under 
 their pipeclayed cross-belts short blue blouses 
 of canvas, with felt shoes, and pouches of un- 
 tanned hide. They had forage-caps with large 
 square leather peaks, and all were weather- 
 beaten and service-like fellows. 
 
4 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Advanced sentinels had been judiciously 
 posted by Douglas, so the rest had piled their 
 arms, and were preparing to make a meal of 
 the contents of their havresacks, sharing their 
 biscuits with the captain's two horses, which 
 were grazing near, knee-haltered — a colonial 
 method of securing a nag when turned afield 
 — a leather thong being attached to the neck, 
 passed round a knee, and tied there. 
 
 Gerard Douglas, a fine-looking man of 
 five-and-thirty, who had been almost eight- 
 een years in the service, and was every inch 
 a soldier, yet not the less a thorough gentle- 
 man, surveyed me with a kind and earnest 
 eye, which grew moist when we spoke again, 
 for we had last met under very different cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 He was a man with perfectly regular fea- 
 tures, a straight nose, having well-curved 
 nostrils, and keen, resolute, dark gray eyes. 
 Like the most of his name he was dark-com- 
 plexioned, and had a handsome, curling brown 
 beard, with which his moustaches mingled. 
 He wore a kind of braided blue blouse, to as- 
 similate his appearance with that of his men, 
 for the Caffre marksmen were deadly shots, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 5 
 
 and when levelling their muskets from amid 
 the dense green jungle strove always to pick 
 off the officers. Over this was slung his 
 havresack and telescope, and at his waistbelt 
 hung his basket-hilted claymore and a pair 
 of revolver pistols. 
 
 We were somewhat similar in personal 
 appearance and stature; but. though I was 
 his junior by a few years, the life I had led 
 latterly made me seem older than I was in 
 reality. 
 
 ' And you are en route for the Amatolas ?' 
 said I. 
 
 1 Yes — following up the regiment,' he re- 
 plied, while stretching himself on the grass, 
 and then thankfully taking a pull at my 
 brandy flask. ' We have been ordered to the 
 front, against those rascally Caffres.' 
 
 4 But, Douglas, old fellow, this is not the 
 route to the Amatolas. ' 
 'The deuce it isn't!' 
 
 ' You should have marched by the Go- 
 vernor's Kloof towards the narrow province 
 of Victoria. You are thirty-five miles at least 
 to the eastward of the proper way, and your 
 o-uide— ' 
 
6 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 'Was a corporal of the Cape Mounted 
 Rifles, who bolted the moment he heard the 
 firing of your muskets.' 
 
 'He must have misled you, for there 
 seems to be a secret understanding between 
 that corps and some of the Caffre chiefs ; but 
 it has proved a fortunate circumstance for 
 me,' I added, smiling, for I had just made a 
 narrow escape. 
 
 In a deep poort — or glen, as we call it at 
 home — I had been pursued, and had to main- 
 tain a running fight for some miles, with my 
 team of oxen going at full speed, while my 
 four Hottentots, the chief of whom was Adrian 
 Africander, an ex-corporal of the Cape corps, 
 kept up a fire from the rear of the waggon, 
 and but for our coming suddenly and most 
 opportunely upon Douglas's marching party 
 in the bush, we should all have been slain, 
 with every cruelty that the most artful savage 
 nature could devise. 
 
 'I never in my life was so glad as when 
 I saw your fellows in their crossbelts and 
 blouses, Douglas, and when I heard your 
 piper waking the rocky echoes of Hell's 
 Kloof.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 7 
 
 'Is that the name of this lively locality?' 
 
 < Yes.' 
 
 ' Kather appropriate, isn't it?' 
 
 ' Being a southland-bred Scot, I have often 
 laughed at the bagpipes, and thought them 
 barbarous ; but here in the dingles of the 
 Caffre forest, while those wild devils were 
 launching shot and assegais at us, their 
 screeching was, by Jove ! the sweetest music 
 I ever heard.' 
 
 ' And you sold out of the old — th Fusi- 
 liers, Dick?' 
 
 ' Yes ; debts, and mishaps concerning that 
 property out of which I was so shamefully 
 tricked, and by which I lost something that 
 I value more than the property by a thou- 
 sand times, proved too much for me in the 
 end.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know — Clarice Haywood,' said he, 
 lowering his voice. 
 
 A gesture of sorrow and impatience es- 
 caped me. 
 
 ' The Fusiliers must have seen some ser- 
 vice since I left them?' said I, after a pause, 
 to change the subject. 
 
 4 Yes ; we lay with them in Cork just be- 
 
8 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 fore we sailed. They have been changing 
 fast.' 
 
 'Indeed!' 
 
 4 Yes ; as the song says : 
 
 " Some have got shot, and some got drowned, 
 And some, beyond the seas, 
 Got scraped to death with oyster-shells, 
 Among the Can-iDees.'" 
 
 'Don't jest, Gerard; for my heart sinks 
 when I think of our happy mess-table — of the 
 kind faces of the brave and handsome young- 
 fellows I shall never see more. My life, since 
 I left them, has been cast among deuced hard 
 lines, I can tell you, Gerard.' 
 
 1 Who were those that were attacking you 
 when we came so promptly to the rescue in 
 extended order?' 
 
 4 Caffres.' 
 
 4 Of course.' 
 
 4 A party of darkies under a savage bush- 
 ranger, who is said to be a European — some 
 say a Briton; any way, an escaped convict, 
 who has fraternised with the Caffres, and 
 married at least one of their women. Oddly 
 enough, he has acted more than once as my 
 unrelenting enemy ; and in several of my 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 9 
 
 trading expeditions tried to cut me off before 
 the war began. He was the moving spirit 
 this afternoon ; but I rather think I put a ball 
 in his shoulder.' 
 
 ' Who is this man, Dick ?' 
 
 ' No one knows with certainty.' 
 
 ' I mean, what is his confounded name ?' 
 
 'MarkGraaff.' 
 
 'Mark GraafF! Why, that is the very fel- 
 low who, when the Caffres first began to rise 
 in arms and trouble the Colonial Government, 
 attacked a party of the Queen's 45th, or Not- 
 tinghamshire Regiment.' 
 
 * I never heard of it ; I must have been far 
 away in the bush.' 
 
 'A sergeant and fourteen privates, when 
 escorting waggons to King William's Town, 
 were surprised on the Debe Neck, and over- 
 powered by a vast body of Caffres, who bar- 
 barously murdered the whole. They were 
 found by Colonel Mackinnon's men with their 
 throats cut from ear to ear ; and what further 
 infuriated the troops was the discovery that 
 they had all been horribly mutilated before 
 death. Their next exploit was roasting three 
 men alive on the Kat River, near the Little 
 
10 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Winterberg, which compelled General Somer- 
 set to march there and give them a scourging.' 
 
 c If this Mark Graaff attack me again — ' 
 
 ' There is no chance of that while we are 
 with you, Dick. My sentries shall be relieved 
 every hour till daybreak, when we must march 
 again, and retrace our steps, you think ?' 
 
 1 Nearly so. I shall be your guide to the 
 Amatolas. Now that the Caffres are every- 
 where in arms, my peaceful occupation of 
 trader is completely gone; so I may as well 
 join the camp.' 
 
 'All right, old fellow,' replied Douglas. 
 C I think you might easily get on the staff, 
 with local rank. But, Dick, my dear old 
 friend, I can't get over the surprise and coin- 
 cidence of our meeting here, and in such a 
 strange fashion.' 
 
 1 Ah, you little thought to sit by my fire- 
 side — ' 
 
 ' In the bush? — ugh !' 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 In my waggon there was a complete canteen 
 — I'd had it in the Fnsiliers — with breakfast 
 and dinner equipage for two. It was speedily 
 brought forth by my dusky attendant, Adrian 
 Africander ; and Gerard and I had a tasty 
 supper on a brace of broiled guinea-fowls 
 which I had shot that morning by the margin 
 of the Great Fish River. 
 
 The wooden canteens of the 74th men con- 
 tained only aqua pura ; but Adrian supplied 
 them liberally with Cape Madeira from my 
 keg in the waggon. So they drank the healths 
 of Douglas and myself with three ringing 
 cheers, that made the pine-woods of Hell's 
 Kloof echo and reverberate again, while the 
 piper struck up a merry runt on his warlike 
 instrument. 
 
 1 1 am soldier enough to applaud that great 
 
1 2 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 principle of Major Dugald Dalgetty as a first- 
 rate one on service.' 
 
 c What principle was it, Douglas ? I don't 
 remember.' 
 
 ' To lay in grub and grog whenever you 
 have the chance, lest a time should come when 
 you can get neither.' 
 
 ' Another wing of the guinea-hen, Douglas.' 
 
 1 Thanks. " May good digestion wait on 
 appetite !" ' 
 
 'Ah! wonder when we shall ever see a 
 play again; but I have been a leading char- 
 acter in many a queer sensation scene since I 
 crossed the Equator.' 
 
 ' In Africa, Dick, we have a change of life 
 with a vengeance,' exclaimed Douglas. 
 
 ' We are among a rum lot, certainly.' 
 
 4 Xo mess now, no pool in the evening, no 
 balls or flirtations, with champagne iced, pink 
 cream, and white kids ; not even a quiet little 
 rubber — no society whatever. A roadside 
 snack off a buffalo hump; a shot at a tiger- 
 wolf, a philander with a Caffre girl, a Bosch- 
 mans belle, or a Fingo flirt in a necklace and 
 nose-ring; and nothing more — a picnic in the 
 Quagga Flats, a row with the Hottentots, or 
 
SHALL I WIN HEK? 13 
 
 a rough brush in the woods with the naked 
 rebels. Queer change, isn't it, from Britain 
 and civilisation?' 
 
 4 More queer than pleasant,' said I. ' But 
 I had no idea that the 74th were in the Cape 
 Colony. Away in the bush for so many 
 months of every year, I rarely hear of aught 
 that passes in the great world beyond it.' 
 
 4 Three months a£o, I had little thought of 
 being here. The regiment had received " let- 
 ters of readiness" from the Horse Guards ; and 
 though the actual route had not come, all were 
 packed up, and all were prepared to start at 
 a moment's notice. All were unsettled: in- 
 vitations were declined, or accepted condition- 
 ally ; men on the verge of being hooked plead- 
 ed duty to keep aloof from the divine parties. 
 We were lying at Cork, and were actually un- 
 der orders for Old Gib ; and for that place our 
 heavy baggage, mess -plate, and spare arm- 
 chests had already departed. Her Majesty's 
 ship Yulcan, hove short on her anchor, lay at 
 Queenstown to take us on board. We thought 
 only of Spanish eyes and Andalusian ankles, 
 of yachting at Algesiras, and shooting in the 
 cork woods beyond the lines of San Roque, 
 
14 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 when their high mightinesses, the Horse 
 Guards, countermanded the first order, as the 
 demands of Sir Harry Smith for reinforce- 
 ments were most urgent, as heaven only knew 
 how many Caffres were in arms ; and thus, 
 after a three days' notice to prepare for a tro- 
 pical climate, the 16th of March saw us off 
 under sail and steam for the Cape of Storms. 
 As we swept past the admiral's ship at Queens- 
 town, with our pipers on the poop playing 
 "Farewell to Lochaber," the crews of the 
 Hogue and Ajax mounted the yards and 
 gave us three hearty cheers ; so that was our 
 last of old England — of jolly old Ireland, I 
 mean. Our voyage out was stormy. Our 
 women and children were left to weep and 
 wait at Cape Town ; the regiment pushed on 
 to the front towards the Amatola mountains 
 (pretty name that, by the way) ; I was left to 
 follow with one piper, two sergeants, and forty 
 rank and file ; and here I am, Dick Haddon, 
 hobbing and nobbing with you, my oldest and 
 dearest friend.' 
 
 ' And now, Douglas,' I asked in my turn, 
 4 what have you been doing with yourself all 
 these years since we separated ?' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 15 
 
 4 Doing! 0, playing the stale old game 
 of life.' 
 
 1 Married yet ?' 
 
 'No/ lie replied, a slight flush crossing his 
 sunburnt cheek. 4 I am one of those who in 
 the great lottery of the world have drawn only 
 blanks. With me, life has been too often a 
 desperate and a losing game.' 
 
 4 This is more like a portion of my history 
 than yours, Douglas; but you used to be 
 somewhat tender, I remember, on Fanny Hay- 
 wood.' 
 
 4 As you were on her sister Clarice. But 
 she threw me over for another.' 
 
 4 Another !' 
 
 4 Yes, and married him too. That fellow 
 Carysfort, who is now here on the staff.' 
 
 4 Here — do you say here V I exclaimed with 
 a nervous start. 
 
 4 Yes. He came out before we embarked. 
 I always meant to marry,' resumed Douglas, 
 speaking very fast, 'after knocking about a 
 few years with the regiment, and after becom- 
 ing sick of balls and billiards, flirtation and 
 flattery, and all that sort of thing. I don't 
 like barrack-room matrimony — it takes the 
 
16 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 gloss off the most polished woman ; but when 
 I am major, or perhaps brevet-lieutenant-colo- 
 nel, if I can forget little Fanny Haywood, I 
 may marry some one, cut the service, and 
 settle down into a quiet life of fogydom in a 
 snug cottage at home. I have no greater am- 
 bition.' After a pause he asked, ' How long 
 have you led this queer kind of life, Dick ?' 
 1 For four years, Gerard, 
 
 " The world forgetting, by the world forgot." ' 
 
 4 Four years!' reiterated Douglas, looking 
 kindly and earnestly into my bronzed and 
 bearded face, with much of commiseration in 
 his tone. ' You were ever supposed to be the 
 patent axle-box of the wheel of the Blind 
 Goddess, born with a silver spoon in your 
 mouth.' 
 
 4 Was I ? Well, it has only proved to be 
 a wooden ladle, and of the largest dimensions 
 too.' 
 
 ' Four years,' resumed Douglas, musing. 
 
 4 Yes, Gerard, ever since that miserable 
 time when I lost my commission and Clarice 
 together. From being a fashionable fellow in 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 17 
 
 a crack regiment like the Fusiliers, it was a 
 change, by Jove, to become a barterer of pow- 
 der, shot, and old Tower muskets !' 
 
 'To those Caffre fellows who are now in 
 arms against us.' 
 
 ' Unwittingly I have done mischief that 
 way. A barterer of glass beads and brass 
 buttons, wire, cheap trinkets, snuff, tobacco, 
 and gew-gaws for Caffres and their squaws, 
 receiving in exchange ivory, skins, and so 
 forth ; but I liked the roving life. I had sick- 
 ened of civilisation and all its trammels; so 
 the hourly danger encountered among Fingos 
 and Caffres, escaped convicts, and other bush- 
 rangers, to say nothing of wild animals — the 
 hyaena, the tiger- wolf, even the lion — was a 
 species of intoxication, and taught me for a 
 time to forget — well, yes, to forget — even 
 Clarice Haywood.' 
 
 'Poor Dick Haddon!' 
 
 ' I have become hardy as a Greenland bear, 
 and as handy as Robinson Crusoe — a crack 
 shot, a finished waggon- driver and horseman, 
 a keen trader, an intrepid hunter of the ele- 
 phant and tiger- wolf. 1 have sold and bar- 
 tered more in ivory and skins than any man 
 
 vol. i. c 
 
18 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 of the Faderland from Kamiesbergen to the 
 Forest of Ingora. It is a jolly life, I can tell 
 you, but a dangerous one ; and now that the 
 CafFre devils are in arms, like the jealous 
 Moor, my occupation's gone.' 
 
 'Well, old fellow, I suppose you have 
 made a nice pot of money ?' 
 
 'Perhaps. It was deuced hard work at 
 first. All the more so that I had left my 
 heart behind me.' 
 
 'And so, after sending in your papers to 
 the Horse Guards, you grew sick of Europe.' 
 'Sick of Europe!' I exclaimed bitterly. 
 1 Douglas, I grow sick of the world.' 
 ' Stuff, man; don't be melodramatic' 
 ' Fact, though. ' ' Few men long so ardently 
 for another world as they whose hope has gone 
 from this." ' 
 
 'Yet you have made money,' persisted 
 Douglas. 
 
 ' The money made itself, or came upon me 
 as if I had the power of Midas, the Phrygian 
 king.' 
 
 ' What kind of power was that ?' 
 1 The art of turning into gold everything 
 he touched.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 19 
 
 'By George!' exclaimed Douglas, laugh- 
 ing, as he twirled his long, dark brown mous- 
 taches, ' a noble art. Wish we possessed it in 
 the 74th. You were rather a wild fellow, 
 Dick, in your Fusilier days.' 
 
 'All that is changed now, for I have be- 
 come a man of thought. Don't laugh at me, 
 Gerard — yes, thought. Often amid the terrible 
 desolation of these wild deserts, so lone and 
 silent, a sense of religion and awe has stolen 
 over me, filling my heart with unuttered 
 prayer. I have felt it under the shadow of 
 the Amatolas, by the silent shores of the Great 
 Fish River, and the murmur of many a stream 
 as yet unnamed in the green savannahs, and 
 among the dingles of the untrodden forest.' 
 
 ' And what about little Isabelle Walmer ? 
 Every one knew how fond you were of her.' 
 
 ' IFas-a-belle, I should think now.' 
 
 ' But you loved her ?' 
 
 'Not at all. Only grew spooney in that 
 dull country house, when we lay at Colches- 
 ter, and where there was no one but her old 
 aunt, an older Abigail, and the tom-cat, so 
 Isabelle had the preference.' 
 
 'And kept your hand in.' 
 
20 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ' Just so,' said I, impatiently. 
 
 4 You know, perhaps, the unfortunate end 
 of my love affair with Fanny Haywood ; but 
 yours with Clarice was always a mystery to 
 me. Our regiment was ordered abroad just 
 about the time, and I never got a clue to the 
 story, or why you sold out, and disappeared 
 from society so completely.' 
 
 'You shall have a clue to the mystery 
 now ; but if told in all its details, as I after- 
 wards heard them, my story may prove rather 
 a long one. There is a bag of cavendish, or 
 if you prefer cigars there are plenty in my 
 waggon.' 
 
 'Why, Dick, your waggon is a perfect em- 
 porium. I am all attention, so fire away, my 
 friend.' 
 
 Most of Douglas's men, muffled in their 
 gray greatcoats, had gone to sleep under and 
 about my waggon. They were wearied by 
 a long day's march, and slept soundly, each 
 man with his crossbelts on, and a knapsack 
 under his head. 
 
 Adrian Africander threw some fresh wood 
 on the two fires, which burned cheerily. In 
 their glow we could see the bayonets of the 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 21 
 
 advanced sentinels glimmering redly. We re- 
 plenished our horns from the keg of Cape 
 Madeira, and then I related my story some- 
 what in the following fashion. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 This singular meeting with you, Gerard 
 Douglas (said I), has led ruy thoughts back 
 into an old, but not forgotten track — to a life 
 that seems long, long past — to sorrows and 
 memories crushed out and conquered, if not 
 for ever stifled. To suffer keenly, how often 
 do we need but to revert to the memory of 
 other times? 
 
 As for the years to come, c the veil which 
 covers futurity has been woven by the hand 
 of mercy.' This is good and well, for could 
 we but see the future, we might never in 
 almost any^instance act as we do for the 
 present. 
 
 'There are few lives,' says a writer, 'in 
 which there has not been some incident, which, 
 if candidly told, would not possess the power 
 to stir another human heart, raise one throb 
 of sympathetic emotion, or, perhaps, draw a 
 sudden burst from eyes that are dry to their 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 23 
 
 own sorrows. But who living possesses such 
 candour as to tell the true story of his life?' 
 
 Despite this doubter, Gerard, I shall en- 
 deavour to be candid with you, and tell you 
 how it came to pass that I, the senior lieu- 
 tenant of the — th Fusiliers, and one of the 
 most popular fellows in that crack regiment, 
 am now, as you see me, a humble Caffre 
 trader, half waggoner and wholly wild bush- 
 ranger, under the shadow of the Amatola 
 mountains. 
 
 I was at home on a year's leave at my 
 uncle's house of Haddonrig, in Roxburgh- 
 shire, when I first met the Haywood girls, 
 who had come there on a visit with their 
 father, old Toby Haywood, of Walcot, whose 
 residence, as I need scarcely remind you, 
 Douglas, is a kind of fortified tower of the 
 old Border days, and lies between the south- 
 ern slope of the Cheviots and the moors. 
 
 I had a natural interest in Haddonrig, as 
 I knew that one day the place would be 
 mine ; for I was the only son of Halbert Had- 
 don's only sister, and he never concealed the 
 fact, that, when his time was over, the old 
 house and lands must come to me. 
 
24 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 The mansion is a small but picturesque 
 and antique place. In memory I can still 
 trace its quaint outline, which exhibits the 
 Scottish architecture of two distinct as;es. 
 The characteristic ashlar-built tower of the 
 reigns of the earlier Jameses, with the addi- 
 tions made in the time of Charles I., having 
 crow-stepped gables and narrow, grated win- 
 dows, each with a shot- hole in its sill, for the 
 house was near the English border, being only 
 five miles or so from the fanciful line which 
 divides the countries, and it had seen much 
 of war and rapine round its walls since the 
 time of their erection. 
 
 Indeed it was at Haddonrig that, until 
 within the last few years, the English and 
 Scotch farm labourers were wont to meet on 
 the Saturday evenings for a weekly row with 
 fist and cudgel — a folly only suppressed when 
 the rural police were constituted. 
 
 The interior of the house had every mo- 
 dern luxury, for Uncle Halbert w r as a bachelor 
 who loved his ease, and was, moreover, a man 
 of taste. His library and wines were unsur- 
 passed for careful selection, so was his assort- 
 ment of pictures. He had great pieces of 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 25 
 
 Flemish tapestry, woven after the cartoons of 
 the masters of the sixteenth century ; and 
 trophies of swords and arquebusses that had 
 figured in the Border wars, and helmets that 
 had been cloven at Flodden Field and An- 
 crumford ; Venetian and Bohemian glass, out 
 of which the fifth James, after his Border raid, 
 and his hapless daughter, after his progress to 
 Jedburgh, had both drunk when they tarried 
 at Haddonrig. There, too, were Aubusson 
 and Smyrna carpets, and Heaven knows all 
 what more ; but any way it was a delightful 
 old house to wander over. 
 
 One of Uncle Halbert's chief whims — you 
 remember he was full of them — was to culti- 
 vate from seedlings numbers of the old Scots 
 thistle in clefts about the rock on which the 
 house is built. But the plant must always 
 have been reared about old houses in Scot- 
 land, as it is so plentifully found among their 
 ruins. 
 
 There was one feature, or personage rather, 
 in my uncle's household, that I by no means 
 relished or admired. 
 
 This was Mrs. Prudence Grubb — old Prue, 
 as uncle called her — svho, by years of cunning 
 
26 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 assiduity and watchful anticipation of every 
 want and wish, had obtained — as housekeeper, 
 nurse, and factotum — a wonderful, and, as it 
 proved in the end, a dangerous ascendancy 
 over the poor old gentleman ; who, at the time 
 I came home on leave, was past his seventieth 
 year, and evidently used up, for he had lived 
 a jolly life in his youth and prime. 
 
 In memory I can see the old man yet, clad 
 in his unvarying suit — a blue coat with wide 
 skirts and gilt buttons, an ample white waist- 
 coat coming over his swelling paunch, his 
 sturdy legs encased in corded breeches and 
 top-boots ; his silver hair, and his kind, benign 
 smile, as he would linger in the window-seat 
 over a glass of fine old port in the summer 
 evenings, and gaze dreamily over the far ex- 
 tent of fertile country that was bounded by 
 the Cheviots, with the spires of Kelso rising 
 through the golden haze in the middle dis- 
 tance, the shining waters of the Teviot ming- 
 ling with those of Tweed under the stately 
 bridge in the middle distance, with Ducal 
 Fleurs crowning its grassy plateau on one 
 side, and the wooded mound where stand the 
 ruins of Eoxburgh on the other. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 27 
 
 When I last came home, after a seven 
 years' absence, I found him sorely changed, 
 and apparently older even than his years ; but 
 a fall in the hunting-field had conduced to 
 bring this about. Yet he was cheerful and 
 jolly, and as Captain Toby Haywood and his 
 two daughters, Clarice and Fanny, were at 
 Haddonrig on a visit, our time was spent 
 pleasantly enough. 
 
 The two old friends dozed about together 
 among the stables and conservatories, and 
 talked of stock and cross-breeds, of Cheviots 
 and Southdowns, of copse-cutting, subsoil, and 
 tile draining; while I rode with the girls, or 
 drove them in the pony phaeton to various 
 places of interest in the neighbourhood — to 
 Abbotsford, to Scott's grave, at Dryburgh; 
 to the Thorn, where James II. was killed ; to 
 Melrose, which we ' did' by moonlight, and so 
 forth. 
 
 Then we had music and singing and great 
 jollity in the evening, though the austere 
 housekeeper, Mrs. Prudence Grubb, more 
 than once had the assurance to resent the 
 'innovation of such doings as allurements of 
 the Evil One,' and while speaking thereof she 
 
28 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 raised lier eyes, not to heaven, but to the 
 ceiling. 
 
 I had left Clarice Haywood a hoydenish, 
 lanky little gipsy of twelve, with whom I 
 often squabbled because she quizzed my 
 Scotch accent. I found her now expanded 
 to a tall and beautiful English girl of nine- 
 teen, in the full bloom of her years, tender, 
 gentle, soft and winning in manner, and in 
 her perfect guilelessness she was totally un- 
 like any girl I had met wherever the Fusiliers 
 had been ; and while with them I had seen 
 and flirted with some of the prettiest women 
 our garrison towns can present. 
 
 She had, as you know well, features that 
 were far from regular, yet which were, when 
 taken as a whole, perfectly lovely — her hair a 
 bright chestnut, that seemed half golden in 
 the sunshine ; her laughing eyes a soft hazel ; 
 her ears, neck, and hands were faultless ; and 
 to enhance her beauty to the utmost in my 
 own eyes, I loved her ! 
 
 You know how I loved that girl ; but, 
 Gerard Douglas, one thing you never can 
 know — the strange magic, the magnetic power, 
 her eye and presence — more than all, the most 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 29 
 
 trivial touch of her little hand — had over 
 me! 
 
 I felt for her, and when with her, as I had 
 never felt when in the society of any other 
 woman ; and if there be any faith or truth in 
 the idea or system of the duality of human ex- 
 istence, then Clarice Haywood is my other half. 
 
 The Haywoods were three months at Had- 
 donrig, yet in all that time, though every ac- 
 tion of mine implied that I loved her, I did 
 not dare to tell Clarice so. 
 
 Why was this ? you may ask, for certainly 
 I was not wont to be a bashful fellow. 
 
 I had left the regiment while loaded by 
 gambling and other debts, and already my 
 creditors and the colonel, with whom they 
 had, perhaps, spitefully put themselves in 
 communication, were hinting at the necessity 
 for selling my commission, unless my uncle 
 relieved me. Yet, influenced by some one 
 against me on this occasion, he had not only 
 withheld my usual allowance for six months, 
 but further refused to advance me a shilling 
 in my necessity. 
 
 Crops had been bad for some time past ; 
 rain had spoiled one thing, and excessive 
 
30 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 drought another; the rinderpest had de- 
 stroyed whole herds of his cattle ; some of 
 the tenants had totally failed in paying their 
 rents ; thus, though Haddonrig stands in the 
 very garden of Scotland, the lovely border- 
 land, his exchequer was unfortunately very 
 low; mine was lower still, and I dared not 
 speak of love to Clarice, trembling, as I was 
 then, on the verge of the Bankruptcy Court, 
 unable alike to pay my debts or return to the 
 regiment, while her father's lands of Walcot 
 were, as I knew, entailed, and would pass 
 from his daughters to a distant heir of his, 
 leaving them with only a pittance each ; so I 
 loved Clarice, and writhed in silence under 
 the bitter conviction that my love was a mad 
 and desperate one. 
 
 Who was the enemy that had influenced 
 my usually kind old uncle against me at this 
 most critical time ? I was not long in dis- 
 covering her to be Mrs. Prudence Grubb, his 
 old female factotum. 
 
 She was a tall, thin, prim-faced personage, 
 in her forty-fifth year, with a reddish nose, 
 and a red spot on each of her high Scotch 
 cheek-bones, the result perhaps of her brandy 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 31 
 
 cordials. She had cold, gray, glistening, gim- 
 let eyes, that seemed to look through one. 
 She always wore a dark stuff dress, with a 
 clean starched collar, and a cap like a Quaker- 
 ess; and she glided about with the soft stealthi- 
 ness of a cat, with her hands meekly crossed 
 before her, and her eyelids cast down; yet, 
 the beldame was remarkably wideawake for 
 all that, 
 
 She had a frequent visitor in the shepherd 
 of the flock to which she belonged — some 
 very low species of dissent indeed ; and she 
 had, as I afterwards learned, a friend of a 
 more questionable kind, in the character of a 
 certain Mark Sharkeigh, a convicted thief and 
 inveterate poacher of the preserves and rivers, 
 who loafed about the adjacent village with a 
 ticket-of-leave in his pocket. 
 
 During my uncle's illness and weakness, 
 consequent on the fall from his horse when 
 hunting, she had wormed herself into his most 
 secret confidence, and even contrived to en- 
 graft some of her hypocritical cant upon him, 
 while giving out in the neighbourhood that 
 he meant to marry her, to marry her and — 
 credat Judceus ! — bestow upon her the estate 
 
o2 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 of Haddonrig, while cutting off me, c his dis- 
 solute nephew, the brand which would not 
 be rescued from the burning,' with the shilling 
 usually bequeathed to such prodigals for the 
 purchase of a halter. 
 
 It was by the merest chance, while waiting 
 at a lonely smithy to have a cast shoe of my 
 horse replaced — a smithy at which I was quite 
 unknown, a sequestered place on the Melrose 
 road — that I overheard something of these 
 rumours, and mentioned them over our wine 
 after dinner to Uncle Halbert. 
 
 He reddened with anger, and said : 
 
 1 Poor Prue is not to blame for the gossip 
 of a rascally countryside. She is a servant 
 devoted to my interest — a faithful house- 
 keeper — a pious, enthusiastic, and most disin- 
 terested vessel.' 
 
 ' Vessel !' I echoed ; c have you actually 
 caught the spirit of her cant — of her shabby, 
 out-at-elbow shepherd, uncle ? She is a cursed 
 old utensil I would send to the right about,' I 
 added angrily. 
 
 c Don't say so, Dick. You misjudge her, 
 and I fear you shock her greatly by your 
 rough, barrack-room ways.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 33 
 
 She had been close by — when was the wo- 
 man ever otherwise? — and had overheard my 
 remarks, and her gray eyes glared at me with 
 malice and hate. I could see her pale, 
 pinched features reflected in a mirror oppo- 
 site, and felt instinctively that she would work 
 me a mischief if she could, and in the sequel 
 she did so with a vengeance. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Uncle Halbert was a keen sportsman ; bnt 
 the time was past now for his going forth in 
 search of game, so all the preserves were at 
 my disposal. Prior to leaving Haddonrig on 
 a visit to Walcot, for whence the Haywoods 
 were departing, I was not sorry to kill the 
 time and the birds together; but my mind 
 was so occupied by the thought of Clarice, 
 and every feature of the scenery so reminded 
 me of her that I made but an indifferent 
 sportsman, and expended so much ammunition 
 on the sky that the dogs cocked their ears in 
 bewilderment, and Bagshot, the old game- 
 keeper, was aghast. 
 
 To the susceptible or imaginative there 
 are few emotions more sad and depressing 
 than to revisit alone the places where we have 
 been happy in the society of others, of those 
 we have loved, the absent, or the dead. 
 
SHALL T WIN HER ? 35 
 
 But inexorable time pressed upon me, and 
 in the wretched state of my monetary affairs I 
 had permitted my brown-eyed Clarice to de- 
 part without telling her that I loved her. 
 
 4 My blessing go with you, young ladies,' 
 said Mrs. Prudence Grubb, curtseying, with 
 secret dislike lurking in her gray eyes while 
 pocketing the sovereigns given for distribution 
 among the servants, as I handed the girls to 
 their carriage ; c accept my thanks, too,' she 
 added, in her drawling tone, c as I care not 
 for the dross — the lucre of this earth. Oh! 
 what availeth it us if we "lay up gold as dust, 
 and the gold of Ophir as the stones of the 
 brooks"? You laugh, Miss Haywood,' she 
 added severely, for Clarice did laugh pretty 
 openly. 
 
 i Pardon me, Mrs. Grubb, but really I 
 could not help it,' replied the girl, blushing. 
 
 1 Laughter out of season is dangerous. 
 u Woe unto ye who laugh now, for ye shall 
 mourn and weep," so said our worthy shepherd 
 at the tabernacle yesterday.' 
 
 1 Pray don't preach a sermon out of church, 
 Mrs. Grubb,' said the bluff captain bluntly. 
 ' Thanks for your attention to my girls. I'll 
 
36 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 send you some prime rum that has twice 
 doubled the Cape, and you are welcome to 
 comfort the shepherd with a drop of it.' 
 
 At this remark she scowled after the car- 
 riage that bore the Haywood s away. 
 
 Clarice was gone ! 
 
 Restless, sleepless, unable to eat, or to 
 concentrate my thoughts on anything save on 
 her — her face ever before me in memory or 
 imagination, her voice seeming ever to linger 
 in my ear. Thus, if I attempted to shoot, I 
 missed every bird ; to hunt, and I, who 
 whilom was the first to run in upon the fox, 
 was often left in the lurch ; and once, by 
 Jove ! up to the neck in a wet ditch. 
 
 At the parish cricket match, the first ball 
 bowled me out — I, who could keep my wicket 
 against any man of Ours, officer or private. 
 
 All other women, however pretty or win- 
 ning, bored me. I was bewitched, in fact. 
 When not with her I was lonely indeed, and 
 in my day dreams I was ever communing 
 with her, and placing loving speeches in her 
 pretty mouth. 
 
 At last, my uncle roused me to action by 
 the information that I must attend to his in- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 37 
 
 terests, because that, since he had become an 
 invalid, his lands were overrun by poachers, 
 but chiefly by a rascal named Mark Sharkeigh, 
 whom I was to capture if I could. 
 
 ' If you can't catch him, Dick, for the 
 fellow is as strong as a bull, just shoot him 
 down like a dog, and I'll back you up against 
 all the pettifogging lawyers in Scotland,' said 
 the old gentleman, his face crimsoned with 
 gout and passion, as he struck his cane on the 
 floor, and half wheeled his elbow-chair round 
 in his energy of purpose. 'When Haddonrig 
 is yours, Dick — ' 
 
 ' Long may that day be of coming, uncle.' 
 1 I hope so too ; but when it does come, 
 as come it must, you will then know some- 
 thing of the troubles we country gentlemen 
 are subjected to. By midsummer the news- 
 papers teem with advertisements, offering 
 dogs, guns, breech-loaders, bags, and ammu- 
 nition for sale ; and then every fellow, even 
 to a tailor's apprentice, aspires to be a sports- 
 man. We must fire off our counter-adver- 
 tisements concerning poachers, trespassers, 
 spring-guns, man-traps, and the utmost ven- 
 geance of the law. Begad, Dick, between 
 
38 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 keepers, prosecutions, and so forth, I calculate 
 that the game on Haddonrig costs me fully a 
 guinea a head ; and yet rascals like this Mark 
 Sharkeigh supply the markets of Edinburgh 
 and elsewhere with grouse and pheasants 
 from my preserves — with salmon from the 
 Tweed after the net- fishing closes.' 
 
 To capture this fellow and his companions, 
 whose guns were frequently heard waking the 
 echoes of the woods and on the hill slopes in 
 the twilight, was to me rather a congenial em- 
 ployment, as it smacked of professional strategy 
 and danger ; besides, I was nothing loath that 
 Clarice Haywood should see my name figuring 
 in the Kelso Chronicle, and other local papers. 
 
 On the 1st of September — the day on which 
 all sportsmen know that partridge shooting 
 begins — old Bagshot, the head keeper, and I 
 sallied forth by daybreak, on such a morning 
 as a keen sportsman would have chosen, and 
 proceeded straight to a place where on the 
 preceding evening we had seen several plump 
 coveys whirring about. 
 
 Not a bird was to be found. 
 
 There were the strongest symptoms of the 
 place having been netted on the preceding 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 39 
 
 night, and that a clean sweep had been made 
 of every partridge. A fragment of a dirty 
 red and blue worsted cravat, such as Mark 
 Sharkeigh was well known to wear, was found 
 in the coppice, fluttering from an alder bush. 
 So we returned with a clue to the culprit, to 
 breakfast at the lodge, and with amazement 
 and anger withdrew the useless charges from 
 our guns. 
 
 My uncle was furious, and urged us to go 
 forth again, for he knew well that the contents 
 of that preserve had been sped, ere sunrise, 
 along the line of rail to Edinburgh or Berwick, 
 and were now, doubtless, fluttering in braces 
 at the windows of the game -dealers' shops. 
 
 4 Retake the field, Dick, and try your luck 
 in the Chapel Hopes,' said my uncle; 'but 
 capture that scoundrel Sharkeigh if you can — ' 
 
 'And if I cannot ?' 
 
 4 Then put a charge of buck-shot into him, 
 and level straight at his brisket.' 
 
 Mrs. Prudence turned up her pale gray 
 eyes, and raised her hands, on hearing this 
 order given — 'this barbarous order,' as she 
 ventured to say. 
 
 We had scarcely commenced operations in 
 
40 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 the Chapel Hopes — a hollow place, full of rich 
 fern and stunted fir-trees, where in ancient 
 times a chapel had stood — when certain shots 
 drew us off to the right. Running, with our 
 guns at the trail, and stooping behind the 
 crest of a grassy ridge, we came suddenly 
 upon three tattered-looking fellows, who were 
 deliberately loading their guns, after having 
 knocked over several birds in light of open 
 clay. 
 
 ' Surrender, Mark Sharkeigh !' cried Bag- 
 shot, our keeper, advancing resolutely upon a 
 tall, powerful, and ferocious-looking fellow, 
 evidently of gipsy blood by the blackness of 
 his eyes and his tangled locks, and the swarth}^ 
 hue of his complexion. Around his neck was 
 a fragment of the same red and blue worsted 
 muffler which we had found in the copse that 
 morning. 
 
 ' Surrender, all of you,' I cried, c and give 
 up your guns and game.' 
 
 Sharkeigh laughed scornfully, and dis- 
 played in doing so a white and glistening row 
 of large and strong teeth. He stood on his 
 guard, but his two companions fled into the 
 thicket, pursued by the keepers, while I alone 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 41 
 
 advanced on Mark, never doubting but that 
 he would yield. 
 
 I, however, had completely mistaken my 
 man. 
 
 ' Come, fellow, don't make a fool of your- 
 self,' said I calmly; 'you know you have no 
 business here, and that I, as my uncle's repre- 
 sentative, have both law and right on my side.' 
 
 But he stood boldly confronting me, with 
 his gun cocked and the stock resting at his 
 thigh, as if about to charge bayonet. 
 
 'Stand back, Captain Haddon,' said he; 
 ' I mean not to harm you, but you are speak- 
 ing to one who is desperate and reckless of all 
 consequences.' 
 
 'Why so?' 
 
 'Why so? Men in this world must be 
 either scoundrels or fools — wolves or lambs. 
 
 'Indeed!' 
 
 ' Yes ; so I prefer being a scoundrel and a 
 wolf,' replied the poacher savagely. 'Yet I 
 am only what men and misfortune have made 
 me. I warn you that, so sure as heaven hears 
 me, if you advance one step nearer I will 
 lodge the contents of both these barrels in 
 your skull.' 
 
42 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 His teeth were set, his black eyes shot fire, 
 his swarthy cheek grew deadly pale, and the 
 veins on his forehead were swollen like cords ; 
 and every way he seemed perfectly capable of 
 putting his daring threat in execution. 
 
 1 Dare you talk thus to me ?' said I sternly. 
 4 You, a felon, the holder of a ticket-of-leave, 
 which this night shall see cancelled.' 
 
 He uttered a laugh so wild and hollow, 
 while a spasm worked all his pale face, that I 
 became startled, and felt something like com- 
 punction steal into my heart when he said — ■ 
 
 'Ever and always that taunt. In vain 
 have I searched for honest employment, for 
 hard work and bare food, even bread and 
 water, but who would employ the felon — the 
 convict? I have been an Ishmael, an outcast 
 among you, every man's hand against me, and 
 mine against all. So keep back, I say, Captain 
 Haddon, or I shall shoot you like a dog.' 
 
 The fellow spoke well, for he was a Yet- 
 holm gipsy, and had been educated at the 
 parish school; but for me to stand idle after 
 such a threat — I, a gentleman on his own 
 land, an officer in Her Majesty's service — was 
 not to be thought of. The insult was intoler- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 43 
 
 able. I, too, cocked my breech-loader, and 
 advanced warily, with the intention of firing 
 or rushing upon him as necessity might re- 
 quire, when the sudden barking of dogs in 
 our rear made him pause with irresolution, and 
 look round for a moment. With their pointers, 
 our two keepers were issuing from the copse, 
 covered with blood, and severely beaten, having 
 evidently got the worst in their scuffle with 
 Sharkeigh's companions. 
 
 In the excitement of the moment, even the 
 slight action of turning half-round caused his 
 fingers to press the triggers of his gun. The 
 cap on one barrel snapped, the other exploded, 
 and the contents whistled past me closely. 
 
 I then rushed furiously on with my clubbed 
 rifle, and dealt him a dreadful blow on the 
 head. The powerful ruffian reeled and stag- 
 gered wildly about, as if striving to grasp the 
 air or grapple with something. His head was 
 not fractured, though terribly cut; yet the 
 stock of my rifle was snapped in two at the 
 small part of the butt. 
 
 On seeing the keepers approaching, he 
 uttered a hoarse exclamation of rage and defi- 
 ance, and rushed down a steep bank to where 
 
44 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 the Teviot, still swollen by the torrents of the 
 last Lammas floods, was rolling past in foam. 
 
 ' Stop, for the love of heaven !' I exclaimed. 
 ' Stop, poor wretch— you will certainly be 
 drowned!' 
 
 But he plunged recklessly in, swam over 
 in safety, and disappeared in a dense thicket 
 on the opposite side. 
 
 Ere he did so, however, he shook his 
 clenched hand at me, in token that he would 
 yet be revenged; and, oddly enough, he joined 
 issue with Mrs. Prudence Grubb to achieve 
 that desirable end, which they brought about 
 in a very remarkable manner. 
 
 Tidings of this encounter, and of Shar- 
 keigh's escape, had a serious effect on my now 
 irritable uncle, and brought on an access of 
 gout, which prostrated him in bed. 
 
 Time stole swiftly on. My creditors were 
 becoming more and more pressing ; my leave 
 of absence was gradually drawing to a close, 
 and if my uncle's health permitted, the last 
 few weeks of it were to be spent at Walcot 
 with the Haywoods. 
 
 ' To quit the service is to court utter ruin,' 
 I would say to myself at times. ' Shall I take 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 45 
 
 a middle course, and only quit the Fusiliers : 
 what the deuce is to be done then? A bunsc- 
 alow among the Pandies — a log house in 
 Canada — a shy at the hill tribes of Madras, or 
 the Maories of New Zealand. But Clarice — 
 how about Clarice? Can I leave her? And 
 yet, to marry on a subaltern's pay is a mad- 
 ness not to be thought of in these days.' 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 After the brawl I have just described, many 
 days passed on without any event. We were 
 disturbed no more by trespassers, and neither 
 I nor the rural police heard anything of Mark 
 Sharkeigh or his companions. They were 
 supposed to have crossed the Border, and to 
 have transferred the scene of their nefarious 
 poaching to some of the English estates in 
 Northumberland. 
 
 My uncle was ailing and confined to bed, 
 but was reported by the doctors to be pro- 
 gressing favourably, and as a pressing invita- 
 tion came to me from old Captain Haywood, 
 reminding me that I had promised to shoot 
 over the moors with him for a few days, I pre- 
 pared to set out for Walcot, with but one idea 
 in my mind, to bring to an issue for good or 
 for evil my love affair with Clarice, if I can 
 so term it, for as yet all the regard seemed on 
 my side — a wretched species of silent love. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 47 
 
 Ere leaving Haddonrig I was most anxious 
 to bring before my usually kind uncle the 
 painful state of my money matters, and my 
 views with regard to his favourite, Clarice 
 Haywood, in the hope that he would make 
 some settlement, however small, upon me, 
 pay something to my creditors, or enable me 
 to effect an exchange into a less expensive 
 corps; but a strange coldness with which he 
 had treated me of late, and my knowledge of 
 a constitutional horror he had imbibed of 
 making wills, last testaments, and settlements 
 of all kinds withheld me ; and, moreover, Mrs. 
 Prudence Grub, with folded hands, downcast 
 eyes, and cat-like footsteps, haunted his apart- 
 ment like a veritable spy. 
 
 ' What the devil does that old woman 
 want?' thought I. ' What can her little 
 game be?' 
 
 On the day I was to leave, when the dog- 
 cart which was to take me to the train was at 
 the door, with my dogs, guns, and portman- 
 teau, when I came to bid him adieu, he drew 
 back the curtain of his bed, and regarded me 
 with more kindness than usual, and with a 
 ghstening eye. I then saw that his cheeks 
 
48 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and temples were sunk and hollow, and I felt 
 conscious that he looked seriously ill : but the 
 selfish longing to see Clarice lured me from 
 the old man's side, and, as it proved, at a 
 critical time too. 
 
 ' Take care of yourself, Dick, my boy,' he 
 whispered, as I bent over him. ' This is but 
 the beginning of the end, for the gout is 
 mounting; fast, and Haddonris; will soon be 
 yours, farm and moorland, hill and wood. 
 Love to old Toby Haywood, kiss his girls for 
 me, and for yourself too, if you please.' 
 
 A well-known suit of clothes which he 
 wore daily, and which he seldom or never 
 varied in fashion or colour, had been removed 
 from the side of his bed by Prudence Grubb, 
 carefully brushed, and, as she said, c put past,' 
 as if some time must certainly pass before he 
 could wear them again. Even his broad- 
 brimmed white hat and yellow cane were re- 
 moved. 
 
 I know not why it was that I marked 
 those little trifles then, but I remembered 
 them all afterwards with a terrible signi- 
 ficance. 
 
 We parted — on my side with some uncle- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 49 
 
 finable forebodings of evil to come, and I drove 
 off to reach the station of the North British 
 Kailway, from whence a branch line would 
 take me to that part of Northumberland where 
 "VYalcot Tower stood among the moors. 
 
 I had plenty of time. The down train 
 from Edinburgh was not due for an hour yet, 
 the morning was lovely, and involved in re- 
 verie I walked the horse through one of those 
 narrow paths we call a loan — the Chapel Loan, 
 between high and thick hedgerows, where the 
 tall purple foxglove and the variegated fern 
 grew rank upon the old, old oak trees, that in 
 other days had seen the monks pass th ence to 
 serve mass in the chapel, of which the last 
 stones had long since been obliterated by the 
 ploughshare. 
 
 I heard voices on the other side of the 
 hedge, which was in full leaf, and too dense 
 to permit me to see the speakers; but their 
 voices were familiar enough to me. My horse 
 was going at a slow walk, the soft, thick grass 
 muffled the tread of his hoofs, and as for the 
 patent axles of the trap, they emitted no 
 sound. 
 
 c Unless, with the help of the Lord, this 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 game is played at once and surely too, we 
 need never play it at all,' said a woman's 
 voice. 
 
 1 Mrs. Prudence Grubb, for fifty pounds,' 
 thought I. 
 
 ' Well, I'm your man for it, whenever you 
 like,' responded her companion. 
 
 'You are going to Satan, at all events, 
 even as a brand goeth to the burning, Mark.' 
 
 ' Come, don't cant, whatever you may do, 
 Mother Humbug; and as for going to Old 
 Nick, there's a pair of us, and there are two 
 advantages in doing so. I've heard the road 
 is easy, and we are sure to get there. But I'm 
 your man as I said, mistress, and I'll meet 
 you at Church Walcot on the English side. 
 You've made all square there, I hope.' 
 
 4 All — everything.' 
 
 1 He taunted me as a ticket-of-leave man ! 
 By heavens, I'll see him a beggar and an out- 
 cast in his uncle's house yet.' 
 
 'Hallo, Mark Sharkeigh,' cried I, reining 
 in ; ' what game is this you and old Prue are 
 up to?' 
 
 The voices ceased at once, and when I 
 stood up in the trap to look over the hedge, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 51 
 
 the speakers had disappeared where the trees 
 were dense beyond; but that they were the 
 pious housekeeper, one of the shining lights 
 of the shepherd's tabernacle, and the crime- 
 blackened poacher Sharkeigh, I could not for 
 a moment doubt. The plot or plan they had 
 in view was beyond my comprehension, save 
 that it had some reference to me. 
 
 The train soon whisked me along the 
 southern base of the Cheviots and past the 
 Moor of Kidland. I soon saw the quaint 
 border tower, which was the residence of the 
 Haywoods, rising above the coppice, and the 
 sight of the roof under which she whom I 
 loved dwelt made the pulses of my heart beat 
 quicker. 
 
 Old Toby received me with open arms, and 
 Clarice with an air of coy reserve, a timid, 
 downcast expression in her soft brown eyes, 
 that was very enchanting, and from which I 
 augured well. But the sturdy and impetuous 
 Squire of Walcot scarcely left us a moment 
 together. After luncheon, when I was dying 
 to ' do' the conservatories and forcing-houses 
 with Clarice, he hurried me over his stable, 
 his kennel, his gun-room, and on the first 
 
 2SS«n««*» 
 
52 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 morning, dragged me all over the property, to 
 show me where the thickest coveys were to be 
 found; where he had cultivated ferns for one 
 species of birds, and planted belts of small 
 firs for others, with strips of turnips to lure 
 the little deer and rabbits out of the planta- 
 tions, and so forth. 
 
 Next day, by gray dawn, and ere the first 
 red ray of sunlight had brightened the sum- 
 mits of the Cheviot range, we had opened the 
 campaign against the feathered tribe, and in 
 our first engagement, which was a sanguinary 
 one, for Toby's preserves were among the best 
 along the English border, we were accompa- 
 nied by two or three keen sportsmen, one of 
 whom was a total stranger to me, but who 
 proved to be the Reverend Mr. Flewker, curate 
 of the parish, who, as he had once been an 
 officer of the line, was — for that reason and 
 no other — an especial favourite with old Squire 
 Haywood. 
 
 On this morning he declined the most 
 pressing invitations to breakfast with us at 
 Walcot Tower, and saying that he had a mar- 
 riage ceremony to perform at his little church 
 by the moor side, threw an ample bag of game 
 
SHALL I WIN HEE ? 53 
 
 over his shoulder and strode away, promising 
 to ride over to dinner at an early day — a pro- 
 mise which, it is worth remarking, a sudden 
 and severe illness prevented him from fulfil- 
 ling, otherwise I might have made a singular 
 discovery in time. 
 
 My uncle's dangerous illness led me to 
 fear — loving him as I did, I shrank from think- 
 ing of the phrase to hope — that Haddonrig 
 would soon be mine to share with Clarice; 
 and feeling confident in the good old man's 
 regard for us both, I cast prudence to the 
 winds, and resolved to tell her of my passion, 
 and, if possible, engage her to me. 
 
 It would be intolerable if we were to cal- 
 culate every eventuality in life, for then the 
 world would stand still. To let to-morrow 
 take care of to-morrow, has been too often 
 my maxim — or necessity, rather. 
 
 In the evening, after a long day's shooting, 
 I pretended to have a headache, consequent 
 on so much firing with my double-barrelled 
 breech-loader, and tolerating all old Toby's 
 quizzing on the subject of any amount of firing 
 giving one of the — th Fusiliers such an ail- 
 ment, leaving Fanny with Isabelle Walmer 
 
54 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 at the piano, I succeeded in drawing away 
 Clarice from the house, through the conserva- 
 tories, and even beyond the gardens. We 
 chatted of various indifferent subjects, while 
 the sun sank behind the Cheviots, and the 
 shadows were beginning to deepen on the 
 moors, and we reached a green knoll which 
 was crowned by the ruin of an old border 
 tower, burned by the Scots in some long-past 
 raid or invasion. 
 
 How well I can remember every detail of 
 this delightful evening, when I learned for the 
 first time that Clarice Haywood loved me, and 
 me only. 
 
 She seated herself on a fragment of the 
 moss-grown wall, and playfully twirled her 
 parasol to and fro on her shoulder with a 
 rapid motion of her tightly-gloved little hand, 
 permitting the red rays of the sinking sun- 
 light to flash on her rounded cheek, and to 
 tinge, as if with gold, her bright brown hair. 
 She seemed to become thoughtful, and I grew 
 silent, as I reclined on the turf at her feet, 
 and looked, not at the bold and beautiful 
 Northumberland scenery, the deep, narrow, 
 and sequestered glens of the Cheviots, which 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 55 
 
 ostensibly we had sallied forth to admire, but 
 into the soft and earnest hazel eyes of Clarice. 
 And as she twirled her parasol playfully, 
 with much of witchery in her eyes and tone, 
 she sang a verse of our favourite song, 4 Re- 
 membrance.' 
 
 1 Ah, to forget ! the wish were vain ! 
 
 Our souls were formed thus fond to be ; 
 No more I'll murmur and complain, 
 
 Tor thou, my love, wilt think on me.' 
 
 4 I have lured you to some distance from 
 Walcot Tower,' said I, in default of something 
 better to say. 
 
 4 About three miles.' 
 
 4 Three miles ! They have seemed to me 
 but a hundred yards.' 
 
 'Has the time passed so swiftly — so plea- 
 santly?' 
 
 4 How could it pass otherwise when with 
 you?' 
 
 4 How Scotch you are,' said she, laughing, 
 'answering one question by asking another. 
 Are you already longing to return V 
 
 4 Longing, Miss Haywood ! Not at all !' 
 
 4 Not even to see Isabelle ?' 
 
 4 WhatIsabelle? Who?' 
 
56 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 Isabelle Walmer, with whom I saw you 
 flirting so furiously after dinner.' 
 
 'We were merely talking and laughing,' 
 said I, with something of pique. 
 
 1 Pretty loudly too.' 
 
 1 The surest sign that there was no flirta- 
 tion in the case/ I urged. 
 
 1 True ; for the deepest kind of flirtation 
 is that which meets neither the eyes nor ears 
 of outsiders.' 
 
 < Exactly.' 
 
 c You can flirt, I have no doubt,' continued 
 Clarice, bending her clear brown eyes with a 
 waggish smile down on mine ; i officers gene- 
 rally become pretty good hands at it. But 
 who, now, would believe that my dear old pet 
 papa was once a great man in that way, and 
 such a " round" dancer, too, as I have heard 
 old ladies say ?' 
 
 'The same wonder may — nay, must — be 
 expressed about us in our turn. But as for 
 flirting with your friend Miss Walmer, I might 
 do that easily enough with her or any other 
 pretty girl.' 
 
 ' Then I must conclude that I am a plain 
 girl?' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 57 
 
 ' Why?' 
 
 ' Because you never flirt with me.' 
 
 This was a leading remark. 
 
 ' With you !' said I, in a low voice. ' No ; 
 that, indeed, I could not do.' 
 
 'Why so?' she asked, almost in a tone of 
 pique, while her fine eyes dilated. 
 
 'It would be playing with fire. More- 
 over, we cannot flirt where we feel deeply, 
 and for me to attempt it with you, Miss Hay- 
 wood, circumstanced as I am, would end — ' 
 
 'In what?' she asked tremulously, as I 
 paused. 
 
 ' In loving you madly.' 
 
 Her eyes drooped, but they were dancing 
 with delight and triumph, yet the girl was the 
 reverse of a coquette. My heart beat wildly 
 — I was approaching the Rubicon. I stole her 
 hand in mine, but she withdrew it, and with 
 this little action, and the thought of all my 
 difficulties, my heart sank, and for a time I be- 
 came silent. She, too, was silent, and the pause 
 was full of mingled awkwardness and joy. 
 
 She knew that I loved her, and fully ex- 
 pected me to tell her so. At last 1 summoned 
 courage to say — 
 
58 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 i Dear Miss Haywood — nay, permit me to 
 say, dear Clarice — ' 
 
 'Well,' said she, trembling more and 
 more. 
 
 c Yes ; flirtation with you would end in my 
 loving you madly — 'aye, perhaps more than I 
 do now.' 
 
 1 Oh, Mr. Haddon— ■' 
 
 4 Listen to ' me,' I continued rapidly. ' In 
 a month or so I must be far away from this, 
 but for which quarter of the globe I know 
 not — however, certainly not to rejoin the Fu- 
 siliers at Gibraltar. I have here a farewell 
 gift, a gold chain, for you. In exchange for 
 it, will you give me the blue ribbon that is 
 round your dear little neck V 
 
 She grew very pale now, and the long 
 lashes drooped lower over her eyes. Then, 
 with fingers that trembled a little, and while 
 a beautiful smile spread . over her sweet and 
 downcast face, she nervously unfastened the 
 velvet ribbon from her slender, white throat, 
 and gave it to me. 
 
 I kissed it and saying : 
 
 1 Wear this for my sake, Clarice — dearest 
 Clarice,' I clasped a gold necklet in its place. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 59 
 
 Then our lips met for the first time, and 
 from that moment I was a lost man. 
 
 A strange silence seemed to steal over us, 
 and over all the twilight scenery. We heard 
 only the rustle of the old trees about the 
 ruined tower, and the murmur of a mountain 
 burn at the base of the green mound. I did 
 not press her then to give me promises, but 
 our hearts were full of our new happiness — 
 the great and pure happiness of a first love. 
 
 (At this point of my story I drew from a 
 secret pocket of my rough, patched, and shabby 
 hunting blouse a little morocco case, and, 
 opening it, showed Gerard Douglas the velvet 
 ribbon. Its tint of blue had almost faded into 
 white now, for it had been with me in all my 
 wanderings amid the hot African deserts, and 
 I treasured it even as a pilgrim might treasure 
 his fragment of the true Cross.) 
 
 I was first roused from my dream by see- 
 ing a figure appear suddenly at a little dis- 
 tance between two clumps of trees — a figure, 
 the outline of which was distinct in the clear 
 but fading twilight of the summer evening. 
 
 It was that of my uncle H albert, so far as 
 costume went ; his wide-skirted blue coat with 
 
60 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 shining brass buttons, his ample white vest, 
 his corded breeches and top-boots, even his 
 peculiar hat and yellow cane were there, but 
 the figure seemed ungainly, and taller, and 
 thinner than his. 
 
 Could it be mv uncle who had risen from 
 his bed of sickness? or, heavens! was it — if 
 such things could be — his wraith — his double- 
 gauger — or his spirit, after death ? 
 
 I started to my feet, but the figure in- 
 stantly disappeared among the trees, and I 
 passed my hand across my eyes, believing that 
 what I had seen was but an optical delusion. 
 
 I gave my arm to Clarice — my Clarice 
 now — whom I could not leave to pursue or 
 investigate this appearance, and with her hand 
 tenderly clasped in mine, we slowly proceeded 
 homeward; and as we did so, the usual vows 
 and rings were exchanged, and our new en- 
 gagement was duly signed and sealed without 
 the aid of lawyers. 
 
 I made no secret of my monetary difficul- 
 ties, and told how long they had fettered my 
 tongue by a just spirit of honour, and in the 
 fulness of her happy heart Clarice made light 
 of them. I spoke of the hopes I had that my 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 61 
 
 uncle would deal kindly with me — with us 
 (how sweet the conjunction sounded) — and 
 added, that when God took the good old 
 gentleman to Himself that Haddonrig would 
 then be ours, and so forth, with much more 
 to the same purpose ; so that on this evening 
 the world looked, somehow, remarkably 'rosy,' 
 if one may use a phrase so slangy. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The figure I had seen in the twilight proved 
 to be that of the fugitive poacher, Mark Shar- 
 keigh, and not to keep you behind the curtain 
 I may as well mention that on the very morn- 
 ing of the day on which I had played a part 
 so important to my future happiness in life, a 
 plot for my utter destruction had been ably 
 worked out elsewhere. 
 
 On that forenoon, when the Rev. Mr. Flew- 
 ker declined to favour us with his society at 
 Walcot Tower, a couple, armed with proper cre- 
 dentials, as I was afterwards fully informed, 
 had the hardihood to present themselves at 
 the little and sequestered fane of Church Wal- 
 cot, to be bound in the holy state of matri- 
 mony. 
 
 The aspect of the man was odd, and his 
 bearing vulgar; but the manner and dress of 
 the woman, in her black silk gown, clean and 
 modest crimped cap, were unexceptionable in 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 63 
 
 respectability and tone. However, their names, 
 when read over by the stolid and immovable 
 clerk in his thick Northumbrian burr, caused 
 the Rev. Mr. Flewker to start. 
 
 4 Halbert Haddon, of Haddonrig, bachelor, 
 and Mrs. Prudence Grubb, widow of the late 
 Judas Grubb, schoolmaster and session clerk 
 there.' 
 
 ' Are you Mr. Haddon, of the Rig, in Rox- 
 burghshire?' asked the clergyman, raising his 
 eyebrows with wonder. 
 
 ' The same, sir,' replied the unabashed 
 Sharkeigh, somewhat nervously, however, po- 
 lishing the nap of my uncle's peculiarly broad- 
 brimmed white hat, which was so well known 
 in the hunting-field. 
 
 1 You are surely a very young-looking 
 man — for your years, 1 mean.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so ; but I don't believe we have 
 ever met before, sir.' 
 
 c No, I do not think I have had the plea- 
 sure ; but your name has been so long before 
 the public as presiding at county and agricul- 
 tural meetings, that I certainly expected to 
 see a much older gentleman.' 
 
 ' Appearances are often deceptive,' replied 
 
64 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 the confident rascal, who was closely shaven 
 and well polished up for the interesting occa- 
 sion, but who tugged his forelock in a groom- 
 like fashion, which increased still more the 
 bewilderment of Mr. Flewker, and even that 
 of his clerk and an assistant gravedigger, who 
 had been hastily summoned from his grim oc- 
 cupation to witness the ceremony. 
 
 4 Yes, sir, appearances are deceptive,' said 
 Mrs. Grubb, who stood near the altar-rail, with 
 folded hands and meekly- downcast face; 'too 
 often deceptive in this valley of tears,' she 
 added, lifting her pale cunning eyes, not to 
 heaven, but to the whitewashed ceiling. 
 
 Great though the game in view, dangerous 
 though the terrible farce in hand, they could 
 not have practised it with success before the 
 shepherd of her tabernacle, the Rev. Benjamin 
 Bareham, who was sufficiently familiar with 
 the personal appearance of my uncle ; and as 
 AValcot was only some twenty miles or so from 
 Haddonrig, the border-line lying midway be- 
 tween, they had crossed into England to be 
 married there, all the required certificates and 
 formulas having been procured or prepared 
 before. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 65 
 
 Still lingering, book in hand, and eyeing 
 dubiously the bride and bridegroom, Mr. 
 Flewker remarked : 
 
 ' Three Sundays in succession did I read 
 out your banns in this church without having 
 the slightest thought of who Halbert Haddon 
 was. I have been shooting over the moors all 
 the morning with your nephew, Mr. Richard 
 — why is he not here ?' 
 
 The loving pair seemed somewhat discom- 
 posed by this question; but Mrs. Grubb re- 
 plied, in her most whining tone : 
 
 c We have the best of reasons for keeping 
 him in ignorance of all this. The blessed 
 Lord alone knoweth what a heart-break he is 
 to his good uncle there.' 
 
 4 Ay, the Lord alone,' added Sharkeigh, 
 with a wink at the clergyman, who was be- 
 coming somewhat irritated by his irreverent 
 bearing. 
 
 4 1 trust to your honour as a gentleman, 
 and to your character as a Christian clergy- 
 man, that you will keep our wedding a secret 
 till the time comes for divulging it/ said Mrs. 
 Grubb with great earnestness. 
 
 Mr. Flewker bowed an assent, and desired 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 them to kneel down, and then the terrible 
 mockery began, while the rays of the summer 
 sun stole through the painted glass and stone 
 traceries of the old church windows, and fell 
 on the bowed heads of those two wretched 
 conspirators, till the last irrevocable words 
 were uttered, the book was closed, and the 
 poacher and the hypocrite were united till 
 death should part them ! 
 
 Mr. Flewker and his clerk unluckily kept 
 'the wedding' a secret long enough to ruin 
 me. The lines and register were duly signed 
 — the gravedigger, who was as deaf as a post, 
 making his mark as a witness — and then the 
 ' happy couple' adjourned to the nearest pub- 
 lic-house, the "Walcot Arms, to have a glass of 
 something over it. 
 
 There ensued a conversation which was 
 overheard by the landlady, who, being of an 
 inquiring disposition, applied her ear and eye 
 alternately to a hole in the wooden partition 
 from which a knot had fallen out, thus leav- 
 ing a useful orifice ; and of that conversation, 
 which excited her curiosity to the utmost, I 
 had duly a report, but it also came too late 
 to help me. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 67 
 
 'Drink your ale, sir,' said Mrs. Grubb 
 sharply. 'I must not miss the two o'clock 
 train; and now that we are married, and the 
 game — ' 
 
 ' Is not yet played out, mistress,' said he 
 with a hideous leer. 
 
 6 What do you mean ?' 
 
 6 That I won't leave you till to-morrow, my 
 pigeon, and not even then, unless — ' 
 
 ' Dare you threaten me ?' asked Mrs. Grubb, 
 trembling. 
 
 Sharkeigh grinned, and said : 
 
 ' Unless you hand over to me, Mrs. Shar- 
 keigh or Haddon, whichever you please — ' 
 
 ' The sum agreed upon, of course.' 
 
 ' Ten times the sum agreed upon !' cried 
 Sharkeigh, striking the table with his hand; 
 'though, to be revenged on Richard Haddon 
 for the blow he gave me, I'd freely have done 
 all this for a stoup of whisky.' 
 
 ' Without the help of the Lord, where am 
 I to procure ten times the sum? You are 
 mad, Mark Sharkeigh.' 
 
 ' Stop your confounded whining !' said the 
 other furiously. 'Where can you get it? Out 
 of that black box in your room, mistress. Do 
 
68 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 you think I've never peeped through the 
 house windows when after the game of a 
 night?' 
 
 4 But if I won't?' 
 
 1 Then I'll split on you, wife of my bosom, 
 and go to the nearest magistrate to make my 
 solemn 'davy about all this business.' 
 
 The prudent and pious worshipper at the 
 Tabernacle grew pale on hearing this threat. 
 Hatred and fear alike filled her heart, yet she 
 was compelled to dissemble. 
 
 ' Here is the fifty pound note I promised 
 you, Mark,' said she in a low voice, which she 
 meant to be insinuating. 
 
 ' Nine more like it must come,' replied 
 Sharkeigh, as he clutched and pocketed the 
 money. 'You have shown yourself deuced 
 sharp in roguery, mistress,' he added, as he 
 buried his lip and nose in a foaming tankard 
 of ale. 
 
 4 All who are sharper than their neigh- 
 bours, or whom the Lord has gifted with any 
 talent, are deemed rogues by the less lucky, 
 Mark.' 
 
 1 Less lucky — curse you! — meaning such 
 as I, perhaps?' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 69 
 
 ' Yes ; but it is different if one turns their 
 sharpness to good rather than to selfish ends.' 
 
 ' How about you, then?' asked Sharkeigh, 
 with a stare, or rather a glare, in his eyes ; for 
 the blow I had given him was said to have 
 affected his brain, especially when he drank. 
 
 ' My end is good and unselfish,' replied 
 Prudence. 
 
 1 The deuce it is !' 
 
 ' I save Haddonrig from that spendthrift 
 nephew, who would make ducks and drakes 
 of it, every rood and acre. The blessed Ta- 
 bernacle and our good shepherd shall benefit 
 thereby — ' 
 
 'The deuce take them both!' said Shar- 
 keigh, as his eyes flashed. ' Once the old fel- 
 low goes, why should I not stay in his com- 
 fortable diggings, and be laird of Haddonrig, 
 you infernal beldame?' 
 
 'For two very simple reasons, Mark Shar- 
 keigh.' 
 
 ' And these are — ' 
 
 ' That I can only procure possession of the 
 place through old Hab's death, on which I 
 come forth as his widow.' 
 
 4 What more ?' 
 
70 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 4 Your necessary disappearance. You are 
 known over all the border side as Mark Shar- 
 keigh, the poacher, the Yetholm gipsy, the 
 ticket-of-leave man ; and money elsewhere is 
 more useful to you than to remain here for a 
 day longer in your real character.' 
 
 4 True,' said he sulkily; adding, with an 
 oath, ' and money I shall have, mistress, by 
 fair means or foul !' 
 
 So the worthy couple separated. 
 
 On that night Mrs. Prudence Grubb's 
 chamber at Haddonrig was found to have been 
 forcibly entered. Her beloved strongbox, with 
 the savings and peculations of years — an ac- 
 cumulation known to herself alone — was gone ; 
 but in its place lay the entire suit of clothes 
 worn so recently by her bridegroom at Church 
 Walcot. 
 
 Mark Sharkeigh was never seen on the 
 borders again; but rumours said that he was 
 afterwards transported for life in conse- 
 quence of crimes committed by him in Eng- 
 land, and that the ship which was conveying 
 him and others to a penal settlement had per- 
 ished at sea. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In total ignorance of all this deep-laid scheme, 
 I spent a happy, happy fortnight at Walcot 
 with the Haywoods. I soon had a most satis- 
 factory explanation with dear old Toby — not 
 a solemn one in the library, but a jolly inter- 
 view over our wine and post-prandial cigar in 
 the smoking-room ; and he promised to see 
 6 all square,' as he phrased it, with my uncle. 
 
 Knowing how his own estate was situated 
 by the entail, and how dependent his girls 
 would be. on the next remote male heir, he 
 was not sorry to see the eldest in so fair a way 
 of being settled for life as the bride of one he 
 had known from boyhood. 
 
 How joyously the summer days flew past 
 Clarice and me ! Our hearts were full of love 
 — we forgot all about money, or that there 
 was any necessity for it. 
 
 'Don't fancy,' says Lever, 'that you are 
 
72 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 going to get love and money too. It is only 
 in novels that such luck exists.' 
 
 From our happy daydreams we were roused 
 by a messenger on horseback — old Bagshot, 
 the keeper — from Haddonrig. My uncle was 
 dangerously ill, and I must return at once if I 
 would see him alive, for the gout had mounted 
 to his heart and lungs. 
 
 4 My poor old friend,' said Toby Haywood, 
 as I mounted his best horse ; c I fear it is all 
 up with him now. But send us over word as 
 soon as you can, Dick.' 
 
 I kissed Clarice. The honest and kind- 
 hearted girl was weeping freely, for she loved 
 my old uncle well. 
 
 ' Clarice,' said I, ' our joy cannot come 
 without the alloy of sorrow; but heaven ar- 
 ranges all things.' 
 
 Then I gave my horse the spur, and ac- 
 companied by Bagshot, took the nearest road 
 over the Cheviots homeward, and soon reached 
 Haddonrig. 
 
 On entering my uncle's chamber, the 
 changes I saw there shocked me. There was, 
 of course, the close and oppressive atmosphere 
 usual in the chamber of the sick; but num- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 73 
 
 bers of unopened letters and unread news- 
 papers littered the floor and the table by his 
 bedside, as if to show by the neglect of them 
 how heedless he had already become to the 
 affairs of this world, and there, too, were 
 physic phials, pill-boxes, and a cord that com- 
 municated with the room bell. 
 
 He mingled a malediction with his wel- 
 come, for he was in great agony, and then he 
 added — 
 
 1 Hand me the colchicum bottle. Six-and- 
 twenty drops, my dear Dick — six-and-twenty 
 — I can't do with less for a dose.' 
 
 I speedily gave him what he required, and 
 then he spoke again. 
 
 ' I wish you had come sooner, Dick ; but I 
 suppose Clarice Haywood was more attractive 
 than your old growling bear of an uncle. I've 
 been sadly neglected of late, so pardon my 
 irritability. Old Prue, who used to be so 
 faithful, leaves me almost entirely to myself 
 now, and for two whole days she — she was 
 absent collecting for the missionary fund of 
 her Tabernacle at Church Walcot, 'tother side 
 of the border — at least, so she said. So par- 
 don my irritability,' he repeated, and spoke at 
 
74 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 long intervals, tears filling his e} r es the while. 
 ' My poor old nerves are — utterly shattered by 
 the agonies I have undergone and am — now 
 undergoing. The doctor and minister have 
 been with me — about a — a will; but no will 
 is required. You shall have all, Dick — herit- 
 able and movable — all — all — and old Prue 
 agrees with me that there is no use in addling 
 my poor head with lawyer's rubbish.' 
 
 After this he seemed to sink fast, for the 
 village doctor had utterly failed in all his art, 
 by the application of blisters and so forth, to 
 confine the gout to the feet. He became so 
 very faint that I hurried away in search of 
 Mrs. Grubb, for whom I had thrice rung the 
 bell without obtaining the least attention. 
 
 I found her preparing to enjoy a luxurious 
 luncheon in her own room, where, unlike my 
 much-neglected chamber, there were the per- 
 fumes of flowers and fresh air, with the songs 
 of birds coming through the open window; 
 and there, seated on the softest of sofas, sat 
 the shepherd of the Tabernacle, a pale, thin, 
 cadaverous, and red-nosed man, with a great 
 gingham umbrella beside him, and a glass of 
 brandy and water in his hand. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 75 
 
 ' Will you attend to your master, Mrs. 
 Grubb ?' said I sternly, for I had an intuitive 
 dislike of the woman. 
 
 'Master, indeed — ' she was beginning, 
 impertinently. 
 
 'When you ha ye quite done praying, per- 
 haps you will be pleased to attend to his bell.' 
 
 ' Praying, young sir,' began the shepherd, 
 in a drawling tone ; ' we were but craving a 
 humble blessing for the food which heaven in 
 its goodness giveth us.' 
 
 1 Unlike you,' added Mrs. Grubb, lifting her 
 stealthy eyes to the ceiling, ' we never break 
 bread without thanking the heavenly donor.' 
 
 1 Bah ! My poor uncle is sinking fast — I 
 don't think he can live an hour.' 
 
 ' If my humble ministrations can smooth 
 the way,' began the shepherd; but he almost 
 choked himself by the haste in which he swal- 
 lowed his jorum of stiff grog, while Mrs. 
 Grubb covered her face with her handkerchief 
 'to hide the tears she did not shed,' and hur- 
 ried from the room in what appeared a very 
 well-acted paroxysm of grief. 
 
 Incidents followed each other fast after 
 this. Though he rallied a little, ere a month 
 
76 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 was past poor old Uncle Hab fell into a state 
 of coma, and died in my arms one evening 
 about sunset. 
 
 Old Toby Haywood came specially over 
 to give me all his advice and assistance, and 
 the funeral was to follow in four days, in our 
 family burial place under the old towers of 
 St. Mary of Kelso. 
 
 As the time for this closing scene drew 
 near, Mrs. Grubb seemed to grow more and 
 more inconsolable, and I began to fear that I 
 had really misjudged the selfishness of her 
 character, and, acting on a remark of Captain 
 Haywood's, who was completely deluded by 
 her, I patted her kindly on the shoulder, and 
 told her that 'for her long and faithful ser- 
 vices she was yet to consider Haddonrig as 
 her home; for, of course,' I added, 'as my poor 
 Uncle Hab has died without a will, all, you 
 know, is mine.' 
 
 'Indeed!' said she suddenly, looking me 
 fully, boldly, and defiantly in the face ; ' but 
 your uncle, if he died without a will, has left 
 a certain domestic ingredient in the family you 
 little dream of, but one that may prove very 
 disagreeable to you.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 77 
 
 1 What the deuce do you mean ?' I asked, 
 astonished by the change in her tone and 
 bearing. 
 
 ' Swearing so near the good man's coffin ! 
 It is like you, profligate.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Grubb— ' 
 
 c Mrs. Halbert Haddon, if you please.' 
 
 4 A wife!' 
 
 c Yes — a wife,' she replied, mimicking my 
 tone. 
 
 ' When — what — where — who ?' spluttered 
 Toby Haywood. 
 
 c Me — I, Prudence Had don, legally and 
 lawfully his wedded wife.' 
 
 ' Wedded by whom, and where V I asked, 
 truly aghast at her cool effrontery. 
 
 ' By Mr. Flewker, at Church Walcot.' 
 
 I was utterly bewildered and struck dumb 
 by these circumstantial details. 
 
 Old Toby Haywood swore that the whole 
 affair was a fabrication — a falsehood — and 
 rode over to Church Walcot, where he was 
 shown the marriage register, and had an in- 
 terview with Mr. Flewker and his clerk, both 
 of whom set the stubborn fact of the espousal 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
78 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Mr. Flewker arrived at Haddonrig with a 
 certified extract from the marriage register, 
 and with his own private duplicate, in which 
 the event was duly recorded. He at once 
 knew Prudence Grubb as the bride, but ut- 
 terly failed to recognise the man who married 
 her in the poor pale corpse that lay in its 
 silver-mounted coffin. 
 
 However, he fully identified my uncle 
 Halbert's well-known suit of clothes — the 
 blue coat with the brass buttons, the ample 
 white waistcoat, corded breeches, and yellow- 
 topped boots, the hat and cane, as having 
 been all used by the bridegroom on the mar- 
 riage day at Church Walcot. 
 
 I added to the bewilderment of all by 
 foolishly admitting that, on the evening of 
 the day in question, I had seen a figure in 
 the twilight which closely resembled that' of 
 my uncle, but thinner, taller, and somewhat 
 ungainly. 
 
 The date, so recent, barely three months 
 ago, when all knew that my uncle was fettered 
 to his deathbed by illness, puzzled us all ex- 
 tremely. 
 
 4 It is a strange case,' said Toby. ' There 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 79 
 
 are no fools like old ones, and this Prudence 
 Grubb has been an artful huzzy. She may 
 have got to windward of my old friend some- 
 how ; and if the worst comes to the worst, 
 you must pay her her widow's share, and 
 turn her out of doors.' 
 
 But the worst had not come, for the fune- 
 ral was barely over when Mrs. Prudence, who 
 had donned a most effective suit of weeds, 
 announced that she was about to increase the 
 number of Her Majesty's lieges, by presenting 
 a posthumous heir or heiress to the estates of 
 my late uncle; and that she was thus full 
 mistress of Haddonri^. 
 
 I lost all temper then, and, openly charg- 
 ing her with felony and conspiracy, applied 
 to the procurator fiscal for the county. 
 
 The fact of a marriage having taken place 
 — the lines with a signature so closely like 
 my uncle's, that Sharkeigh must have prac- 
 tised it well and often — the register, and so 
 forth, were all gone thoroughly and legally 
 into. 
 
 The landlady of the Walcot Arms was 
 precognosed as to the conversation she had 
 overheard while seated within her bar ; my 
 
80 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 uncle's servants were questioned and cross- 
 questioned as to whether he had left the 
 house or even his bed on the day in question. 
 
 The lawyers were likely to make a fine 
 affair of it, for agents and counsel were fee'd 
 on both sides; and as my leave of absence 
 was nearly expiring I was hovering on the 
 verge of monetary ruin, for my late uncle's 
 funds were arrested in the hands of his factor 
 for the behoof of the widow and her expected 
 bantling. So Clarice and I saw our hopes 
 shattered, and our golden dreams passing 
 away like mist in the sunshine. 
 
 I shall never forget the scowl, so trium- 
 phant, so full of malicious exultation and vul- 
 gar assurance, with which the successful 
 impostor greeted me when, portmanteau in 
 hand, I descended for the last time the stair- 
 case of my uncle's house — the house which 
 was mine, mine by the right of inheritance — 
 and issued from the avenue with barely 
 enough in my purse to take me to Walcot 
 Tower. 
 
 I have little more to tell you, Gerard; 
 and perhaps you may think my story has 
 already been long enough. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 81 
 
 Though many averred that she was some- 
 what overripe in years for such an event, Mrs. 
 Grubb produced a baby heir to the lands of 
 Haddonrig — a black-haired little imp, I be- 
 lieve, and most unlike my uncle : but ere this 
 all my affairs had come to grief. 
 
 I had no money wherewith to effect an 
 exchange, and at the same time to satisfy my 
 creditors, so there was nothing left for me 
 but to sell out, and my fatal papers were 
 posted to the Horse Guards. 
 
 When I first came to know that I must 
 quit the service I was cut to the very soul. I 
 had no ideas, hopes, or feelings but those of a 
 soldier; no other sentiment blended with my 
 life or its aspirations save my love for Clarice, 
 and now, without winning her and Haddonrig, 
 I had to give up the splendid and happy mess, 
 my jovial friends the Fusiliers, with all their 
 memories and associations, and in my six and 
 twentieth year to be cast upon the world 
 without a penny, and, what was worse, with- 
 out a profession — to leave a dashing regiment 
 — a career of which you know well I was so 
 proud — and to sink, after two Indian cam- 
 paigns, into hopeless and aimless obscurity — 
 
 VOL. t. G 
 
82 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 to become, it might be, a gentleman jockey or 
 a billiard-marker. 
 
 Crushed, as it were, upon the very thres- 
 hold of life, by a dark, an undeserved, and 
 terrible reverse, the words of Othello's farewell 
 seemed ever on my tongue — 
 
 •' Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars 
 That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! 
 Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, 
 The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
 The royal banner, and all quality, 
 Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war !' 
 
 Kelinquishing all these, and, more than 
 all, my Clarice — my sweet young love, who 
 clung to me as one in despair when we parted 
 — I can see her still in memory, Douglas, 
 'with all her brown-golden hair, her morning 
 dress of white muslin, trimmed with blue 
 ribbons, her bright hazel eyes, and looking so 
 fresh and charming — relinquishing even her, 
 I say, I had to become a civilian, without 
 prospects or means to begin the new and 
 vague career to which all my habits and in- 
 stincts were hostile — to do something for my 
 daily bread — yet I knew not what that some- 
 thing should be. 
 
 Times there were when I thought of en- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 83 
 
 listing, but shrank from following where I had 
 led — from being commanded where I had 
 held command. 
 
 In this state of doubt, Gerard, I found 
 myself in London, where it seemed to me that 
 there was not, amid its vast world, a more 
 hopeless wretch than Dick Haddon. 
 
 But I was then, as I have said, only six 
 and twenty, so, thank heaven, I took heart 
 again, though that heart bled for my lost 
 Clarice. I thought of trying my fortune at 
 the diggings. I had heard of many who in 
 an incredibly short space of time had amassed 
 vast wealth in that field for the desperate and 
 adventurous. 
 
 An old brother officer kindly advanced me 
 the means, and I sailed for Australia ; but the 
 ship foundered at sea in the South Atlantic, 
 twenty miles from Saldanha Bay. Luckily I 
 was one of the few who escaped in a boat and 
 reached the western coast of our Cape Colony. 
 
 There, with the few remaining sovereigns 
 I possessed, I bought a waggon, a team of 
 oxen, and rifles, engaged old Adrian African- 
 der as my factotum, and became what you 
 find me now, Gerard — a Caffre trader. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 'Your story is a strange one,' said Douglas, 
 after a pause; 'but were there no means of 
 proving fully and satisfactorily who the rascal 
 was that passed himself off as your uncle 
 Richard in this sham marriage at Walcot ?' 
 
 ' No other means than those I have men- 
 tioned, and our evidence was deemed barely 
 circumstantial, though an infant was missing 
 in a neighbouring county about the time of 
 the alleged heir's appearance. So thus 1 lost 
 Clarice and my position, while that woman — 
 that confounded old catamaran, Grubb — re- 
 mained in possession. Mark Sharkeigh, as 1 
 have told you, was nowhere to be found, and 
 he alone could have disproved the story.' 
 
 ' By criminating himself.' 
 
 ' Exactly, and that he was neither bound 
 nor likely to do ; but, since my separation 
 from Clarice, how often have I thought that 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 85 
 
 " Death and absence differ but in name." I 
 have, of course, lost her for ever — the first 
 and only girl I ever loved — yet I have learned 
 to be, if not happy, at least content and in- 
 dustrious. I need not rehearse to you the 
 misery of our hopeless parting before I set out 
 for London.' 
 
 ' You corresponded for a time, I believe ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I sank lower and lower in for- 
 tune and in prospects, and then, somehow, our 
 letters ceased. The learned tell us that our 
 bodies, bone, muscle, and flesh, are renewed 
 every seven years. Would that every seventh 
 year we could start with mind and hope, en- 
 thusiasm and passions, fresh again. I would 
 gladly ignore my past periods — even existence 
 — in every sense.' 
 
 'Clarice Haywood included?' 
 
 c No, Gerard. There I own my theory at 
 fault. I would shrink from committing her 
 memory to oblivion. Yet to what end do I 
 brood over and cherish it? She may now be 
 the wife of another — the mother, perhaps, of 
 his children.' 
 
 Douglas uttered a chuckling laugh, so 
 strange, at this gloomy remark, that I stirred 
 
86 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 up the embers with the branch of a pine tree 
 and stared at him. 
 
 'And so, in this hopeless fashion, you 
 parted, before old Toby's death at Walcot ?' 
 he resumed, after a pause. 
 
 4 Alas, yes.' 
 
 i And have never met since, I understand? 7 
 
 ' Never ! How could we meet, circum- 
 stanced as I was ? Thus, as I say, I know not 
 whether she be wedded or single, alive or 
 dead — ' 
 
 ' She is alive and well, thank heaven !' 
 
 ' And single ?' 
 
 i Yes, old fellow — at least, she was single a 
 few weeks ago. She is here — here, in this 
 precious Cape Colony — with her sister Fanny 
 — Mrs. Carysfort, I mean. So you are a hap- 
 pier man than I, Dick Haddon, for you have 
 still your chances, while mine are gone — gone 
 for ever.' 
 
 4 Clarice Haywood here, say you?' I ex- 
 claimed, starting up. 
 
 4 Precisely,' replied Douglas, quietly light- 
 ing a fresh cigar ; ' and now I think that things 
 are about to mend, perhaps, and that Fortune 
 has played her worst tricks with you.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 87 
 
 'But why — how — here?' I asked, in utter 
 bewilderment. 
 
 ' Where could the poor girl go, or with 
 whom, after her father's death, and the loss of 
 Walcot by the entail— all but a little pittance 
 — but with her married sister, Mrs. Carysfort?' 
 
 I was speechless for a time. At last I said 
 mechanically— 
 
 i Her married sister ?' 
 
 ' You know, no doubt, how my affair went 
 with Fanny Haywood?' said Douglas, with 
 some irritability of manner. 
 
 'Impossible. I had left England before 
 your return home/ said I gently. 
 
 'Ah, true. One knocks about the world 
 so fast now that one is apt to forget many 
 things. That fellow, Carysfort, a handsome 
 but coldblooded and insinuating dog, he was 
 my marplot — my bete noire' 
 
 ' Carysfort ? I remember that the last let- 
 ter I had from Clarice, just before I sailed, a 
 gloomy and crest-fallen steerage passenger, 
 from London, mentioned that a Captain Carys- 
 fort had rented some shootings on the moor 
 adjacent to Walcot Tower.' 
 
 'Exactly — Chandos Carysfort, of the Royal 
 
88 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Welsh. He's a major on the staff now, and 
 with the era of his " shooting" comes the darker 
 portion of my story. While you were at home, 
 you knew, of course, all about my three years' 
 engagement with Fanny — though a mere girl, 
 and too young, perhaps, to be judged severely 
 — a golden-haired and blue- eyed little flirt 
 and jilt as heaven ever created.' 
 
 4 1 heard it spoken of, of course, among the 
 Haywood family and their circle.' 
 
 4 1 came home on leave from Malta to fulfil 
 that engagement, but found every reason to 
 fear that Fanny had ceased to love me — she 
 whom I thought was to be, of all women in 
 the world, my fate. Well, Fanny, though beau- 
 tiful enough for one, was not like the heroine 
 of a novel — j)erfection an d insipidity. She was 
 wonderfully piquante and attractive, sharp and 
 brilliant, yet very far from perfect. Carysfort 
 had been about Walcot for some four months, 
 and I, to use a slang phrase, found myself 
 " nowhere." And yet I loved her,' continued 
 this big, burly, and moustached soldier, with 
 a sudden gust of emotion, as his eyes filled 
 and his lips trembled ; ' heaven knows how I 
 loved her, Dick. Year by year the deep ten- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 89 
 
 clerness — that deep tenderness that filled my 
 heart — seemed also to have inspired hers, and 
 little could I then have thought that a time 
 for disgust and hopeless separation would 
 come.' 
 
 c When did you first begin to perceive that 
 this fellow, Carysfort, had an undue influence 
 over Fanny — beyond yours, I mean?' 
 
 c From the moment of my arrival. She 
 had then begun to sing his songs in lieu of 
 those I admired, and to study his tastes in 
 place of mine. Once, I remember, he admired 
 scarlet-striped piques in lieu of blue, which 
 became her complexion best, and, by Jove, 
 she wore scarlet ever after. Another time he 
 admired mauve, and she was for a week or 
 two an eruption of mauve ribbons and gloves. 
 All had been fair and square between us, Dick, 
 till this insinuating fellow got an introduction 
 to Walcot Tower, and in my absence too, and 
 then all was over with him, though I had a 
 firm ally in old Captain Haywood, and an- 
 other in Clarice, who possesses a strength of 
 character unknown to her sister. 
 
 ' Fanny, a flirt, a coquette by nature, was 
 so weak and unstable that a lover absent, how- 
 
90 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ever tender and true, and however solemnly 
 betrothed, had no chance whatever with an 
 admirer, a mere dangler present ; and yet I 
 loved her, honestly, earnestly, devotedly loved 
 her. But when hints fed my growing sus- 
 picions — hints which were too readily given 
 me by the idle and the mischievous — of their 
 long rides and secluded rambles by Wooler 
 and Flodden-field, by Thirlmoor and Otter- 
 burn, their evening walks and open philanders, 
 coupled with the too-evident constraint and 
 confusion of our first meeting — constraint on 
 her side I mean, with pique and mortification 
 on mine — I left her to Carysfort, resigned my 
 leave, and rejoined the depot of ours in dis- 
 gust. He cut in and won her, and I have been 
 a lonely, sulky fellow ever since.' 
 
 'You parted in anger, then?' 
 
 c Yes — actually in vulgar anger. One day 
 I called him a snob to her face, on which she 
 burst into a fit of laughter, and said, 
 
 " Don't talk to me of Captain Carysfort. 
 The man is a snob — to repeat your coarse but 
 excellent phrase — one who parts his hair in 
 the middle and bandolines his moustache; 
 but, don't be afraid, my poor Gerard, that 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 91 
 
 though I dance with him, ride with him, walk 
 and talk, waltz and flirt with him I shall 
 marry him." 
 
 " You are at perfect liberty, so far as I 
 am concerned, to wind up by doing so, if you 
 please," said I. 
 
 'And then we parted, never to meet again, 
 as I thought. But, lo ! on our landing at Cape 
 Town, whom did I see first among the spec- 
 tators on horseback but Mrs. Carysfort and 
 her husband the Major, both of whom bowed 
 and smiled to me very affably — just as plea- 
 santly as if we had parted yesterday the best 
 of friends instead of in ret-hot anger, two 
 years ago, and far away in England. Deuced 
 cool that, wasn't it, Dick ? But there too was 
 Clarice, mounted on a bay horse, with a white 
 hat and blue veil, and a white holland riding- 
 habit braided with blue, showing off her fine 
 figure to perfection. She was looking bright, 
 beautiful, and handsome as ever she did at 
 home among the heathery hills and breezy 
 glens of her native Northumberland, and her 
 soft hazel eyes were filled with tears as I 
 shook her hand, for there came over her too 
 evidently thoughts of home and the past — ' 
 
92 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 1 Of me, perhaps ?' 
 
 c I doubt it not, old fellow. They all swelled 
 up in her affectionate heart on seeing an old 
 friend. I could not, for the life of me, take 
 the hand of Fanny or of her husband, for 
 there was a choking sensation in my throat, 
 and an angry fury in my heart conflicting 
 with something of my old love for her — the 
 love that has never been replaced — and, 
 touching my cap, I pushed on past Carysfort 
 at the head of my company. What else 
 could a fellow do?' added poor Douglas, 
 as he took a vicious puff of his cigar, and 
 tossed the fag-end of it into our sinking 
 watch-fire. 
 
 Then he started and laid his hand on his 
 sword when hearing a rustling sound in the 
 bush close by, and seeing me cock my rifle. 
 
 I levelled and fired. 
 
 'What do you see?' he exclaimed. 'A 
 Caffre?' 
 
 4 Only a bush-bok — an antelope — at the 
 foot of that mimosa tree,' said I, while drag- 
 ging forward by the hind legs the handsome 
 little animal, which 1 had hit in the head. It 
 was about two feet long, with erect and spiral 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 93 
 
 horns of twelve inches, and skin of a brilliant 
 chestnut brown. 
 
 ' You've alarmed my sentries by firing in 
 their rear,' said Douglas, laughing. 
 
 4 Egad, so I have !' said I, as this trifling 
 incident brought our whole little camp under 
 arms for a few minutes, and the wild, dark 
 visage of Adrian Africander was visible as he 
 peered from the covered waggon, with his 
 double-barrelled rifle at full-cock, and his 
 shaggy, black hair hanging over his gleam- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 Late though the hour, Douglas and I had 
 so much to say that we were loth to part 
 yet. 
 
 'A strange coincidence it is, Dick,' said he, 
 ' that we should both have been in love with 
 the same sisters, and both unlucky in our cir- 
 cumstances with them.' 
 
 'But from very different causes. How- 
 ever, as Thackeray says, " The whole world 
 throbs with vain heart-pangs, and tosses and 
 heaves with longings and unfulfilled desires," 
 so, if this is the case, why should we be dif- 
 ferent from the rest, Gerard ? If Clarice still 
 loves me — ' 
 
94 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 l IfF interrupted Douglas, with some bit- 
 terness of manner. c It is one of the smallest 
 and yet most important words in the English 
 language. But this I may tell you, that 
 Clarice Haywood never spoke of you with- 
 out a deep interest — an emotion which she 
 could not conceal.' 
 
 ' Heaven bless her ! But I implore you, 
 Douglas, not to fan anew the embers of hope 
 — hope that had died out, as I thought, for 
 ever. She may have changed since those 
 pleasant days in old Northumberland.' 
 
 1 True. Carysfort is on the staff, and, 
 being always in and about head-quarters and 
 Government House, is considered "first chop" 
 here, so the ladies of his family — ' 
 
 c You mean Clarice and Mrs. Carysfort.' 
 
 ' Of course, being young and pretty women, 
 they have no end of danglers about them.' 
 
 This information stung me a little. I sighed, 
 and after a pause, said, 
 
 'And has Clarice had no proposals since — 
 since — ' 
 
 1 Your days ? I know not.' 
 
 1 She, with all her beauty — ' 
 
 ' You forget that, save once at Colchester, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 95 
 
 once at the Curragh, and at Aldershott, I have 
 never heard of the sisters, and that until the 
 day we landed here I have never seen them 
 since we parted so gloomily at Walcot.' 
 
 1 Has Clarice, then, no admirers ?' 
 
 ' She has many. I heard our mess speak 
 pretty pointedly of one for certain.' 
 
 'One? 
 
 ' I am wrong, perhaps, in admitting it.' 
 
 ' Nay, nay ; she knows not even of my 
 existence now, so I have no claim on Clarice 
 — but this one — ' 
 
 'Has been pretty constant in his atten- 
 tions ever since — ' 
 
 1 Since when T I asked impetuously. 
 
 'Well, since the Carysforts came out here 
 some months ago. 5 
 
 'Who is he? 
 
 ' The general's extra aide-de-camp.' 
 
 'What's his infernal name?' I asked, gnaw- 
 ing my moustache. 
 
 ' There ! I knew I was wrong to speak of 
 him, Dick.' 
 
 ' But his name ?' 
 
 ' Percival Graves, a lieutenant of the Cold- 
 stream Guards, who came out here on the 
 
96 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 staff, as he said, " to see what fun was going 
 on in Caffr eland." ' 
 
 'What kind of man is he ?' 
 
 c Young, handsome, and rich, too — his fa- 
 ther has no end of property in the midland 
 counties somewhere — but, so far as his dang- 
 ling goes, I don't think there's anything in it.' 
 
 ' How can you possibly know 7 I asked 
 sulkily. 
 
 i True ; but now we must positively tuck 
 ourselves in, Dick, for forty winks ere we quit 
 this pleasant locality of Hell's Kloof.' 
 
 I dragged a bundle of skins — the spoil of 
 my rifle — from the waggon, and under these 
 we coiled ourselves away for the night, or 
 rather what remained of the morning. 
 
 I strove hard to sleep, for a long and ex- 
 citing day of travelling in hot haste, with a 
 pursuit, a conflict, and most unexpected rescue 
 at the hands of Douglas from Mark Graaff and 
 his mixed band of Caffres and bush convicts, 
 had preceded our halt in the Kloof; but sleep 
 was long of coming, I had so much to think 
 of. 'Deferred hope is heart-sickness to all 
 manner of men — to a lover, deferred hope is 
 akin to despair.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 97 
 
 Now I had survived all that. Hope had 
 utterly passed away, and I had learned to be 
 content. I had lived on in a new world — a 
 new species of existence — and schooled myself 
 to think of Clarice Haywood as a portion of 
 the past, of a life that would return no more ; 
 but now Douglas had brought all the past in 
 one wild gush back upon my heart. 
 
 Clarice was here — here in the Cape Colony ! 
 
 Here had she been for many months while 
 I was wandering far away in the wild bush, 
 and now a hundred — yea, a thousand — dim 
 foreshadowings of the future that might be 
 possible floated before me, killing sleep. 
 
 The familiar sounds of the African forest 
 — familiar, at least, to me — the whirr of a 
 passing night bird, the melancholy and pro- 
 longed howl of a prowling jackal, the occa- 
 sional voices of the Highland sentinels as they 
 kept each other on the alert — all lingered 
 drowsily in my ear; but beyond all there 
 was the stinging consciousness that Clarice 
 knew not, or thought not of me, and had 
 a lover — this 'young, rich, and handsome' 
 Percival Graves, whom I had already learned 
 to detest. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 Shall I ever win her T thought I again 
 and again, and at last I slept, with my loaded 
 rifle beside me, for five years now nearly my 
 inseparable companion. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 From a dream of Walcot Tower and of the 
 quaint little room I used to occupy when 
 there — a room decorated with many a draw- 
 ing by Clarice — and where I could lie abed 
 in the pleasant mornings and hear the chimes 
 in the distant village spire, the birds twitter- 
 ing in the sunshine, and where I could even 
 venture forth in my dressing-gown to smoke 
 a cigar or pick up a ripe nectarine, or to in- 
 hale the sweet air that came from the purple 
 moors on one hand, or the blue Cheviot 
 mountains on the other — from a dream of 
 that little chamber wherein I had made many 
 a careful toilette in anticipation of meeting 
 the blooming Haywood girls, the soft-eyed 
 Clarice and the golden-haired hoyden Fanny, 
 at breakfast — I was roughly roused by Mac 
 Gillivray, the piper of Douglas's party, making 
 
100 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 the rocks and dingles of Hell's Kloof reecho, 
 as he blew the warning for the march towards 
 the Amatolas — prior to which, however, a 
 hasty meal was prepared. 
 
 Assisted by my useful retainer, Adrian 
 Africander, pots of hot coffee were soon 
 prepared and distributed in the tin can- 
 teens; and with these and a ration biscuit 
 per man the Highlanders made their morning 
 meal. 
 
 My team of oxen were then traced to the 
 waggon, and we prepared to leave the Kloof, 
 after burying in a hole some half-dozen of 
 dead Caffres who lay shot in the bush, and 
 over whose remains the hungry crows were 
 hovering in the pine trees. 
 
 ' Do we part here ?' asked Douglas, as we 
 exchanged our cigar-cases for a morning weed ; 
 'part as suddenly as we have met?' 
 
 4 By no means, Gerard. I was making my 
 way towards Port Elizabeth, on the shore of 
 Algoa Bay, as I have a considerable quantity 
 — about two hundred pounds' worth — of ivory, 
 aloes, skins, and ostrich feathers to dispose of. 
 But I shall get rid of the entire stock at Gra- 
 hair's Town, and from thence I shall be your 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 101 
 
 guide to the Amatolas. Trading is over, and 
 war is the word now.' 
 
 'Will you come into camp, then?' asked 
 Douglas with a kindling eye. 
 
 ' I shall — yes. I'll join you as a volunteer, 
 or anything you choose.' 
 
 i Bravo ! There are many of " Ours " who 
 must remember you at Malta and Old Gib, 
 and they will give you a hearty welcome, 
 Dick.' 
 
 1 My position will be rather an anomalous 
 one.' 
 
 1 Not at all ; but how far is Graham's Town 
 from here?' 
 
 1 About twenty-five miles.' 
 
 c We shall be there to-morrow.' 
 
 ' And I shall introduce you to a delightful 
 old Dutch herr, with a most popular young 
 barmaid.' 
 
 In my waggon I placed two of Doug- 
 las's soldiers, Privates Robert Bruce and Don- 
 ald Farquharson, who had ' broken down ' 
 on the march under heat, exhaustion, and the 
 weight of their accoutrements. 
 
 He mounted me on his spare horse, and we 
 set forth about seven on a cool, delicious May 
 
102 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 morning, taking an eastern direction, to strike 
 upon the main road that leads from Bedford 
 to Graham's Town. 
 
 I could soon perceive that Douglas had an 
 admirable mode of comporting himself to his 
 soldiers, with whom he seemed an especial 
 favourite. 
 
 He rode alongside the inarching party, with 
 whom he conversed from time to time, with a 
 tone and bearing of comradism that knit the 
 men to him, without loosening in the least the 
 bonds of discipline, for he was a strict hand 
 at all times, and kept every man under him 
 to his duty. 
 
 For some miles of the way we had the piper 
 playing, and the echoes of his wild and pierc- 
 ing instrument scared the monkeys in many 
 a thicket of pine and mimosa trees, and once 
 or twice a spotted tiger crossed our line of 
 march, swift as a flash of lightning, when 
 hounded from one jungle or clump of bushes 
 to another. 
 
 ' Your pipes, I repeat to you, Gerard, were 
 a most welcome sound to me last night,' said 
 I. ' By Jove ! I little thought ever to hear 
 them thus in the wilds of Southern Africa.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 103 
 
 ' In what part of the world, where blood 
 has been shed and battles won, have our pipes 
 not been heard?' said Douglas, with some- 
 thing of fiery enthusiasm in his manner. l I 
 have often reflected that there is something 
 alike strange in the antiquity and association 
 of the pipe-music played by our Scottish regi- 
 ments. To the English and foreign ear it 
 sounds, I doubt not, but as a concatenation of 
 barbarous sounds; yet that very air that Mac 
 Gillivray has been playing before us just now 
 — " Righ Alisdair '' — must have been heard by 
 King Alexander seven hundred years ago, and 
 may be old, perhaps, as the days of Macbeth. 
 And is it not odd, in this age of progress and 
 paper-collars, to hear at Aldershott, at the Cur- 
 ragh of Kildare, and elsewhere, our regimental 
 pipers summoning the Scottish corps by the 
 same music with which Bruce marched his 
 men to Bannockburn— by which Black Donald 
 led his Islemen to Harlow, and the Jacobite 
 clans to many a battle against the House of 
 Hanover? But now that Mac Gillivray is out 
 of wind, I shall strike up a song, and you, my 
 lads, shall give the chorus.' 
 
 The soldiers clapped their hands as they 
 
104 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 slung their rifles, for all were now marching 
 at ease, and Douglas sung a long ditty, of 
 which I can remember but a few lines : — 
 
 ' Jack spent all, then borrowed at twenty per cent, 
 His mistress fought shy when his money was spent ; 
 So he went for a soldier — he couldn't do less — 
 And left his fair Fanny to hug old Brown Bess. 
 
 " Halt !" " Wheel into line !" and " Attention— eyes 
 
 right !" 
 Put Bacchus and Venus and Momus to flight ; 
 But who can depict half the sorrows he felt, 
 When he dyed his moustaches and pipeclayed his belt?' 
 
 After a time we all became silent enough, 
 for the kind of path we traversed now was 
 rough, and at times deep. "We crossed more 
 than one small river by a drift or ford, and 
 pushed on over slopes studded by scattered 
 mimosas and gigantic white thorns. Once we 
 traversed a high hill, completely covered with 
 African aloes, where the ascent was so steep 
 that the Highlanders had to put their shoul- 
 ders to the wheels of my waggon, or its team 
 of fourteen oxen, even lashed to frenzy as they 
 were by Adrian's long whip, or jambok, of 
 white rhinoceros hide, would have failed to 
 drag it upward. 
 
 In some places the track was lost amid 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 105 
 
 soft sand, where we sank ankle deep; but I 
 knew the natural features of the country well, 
 and assured Douglas that within fifteen miles 
 from the place of our starting, I should bring 
 him and his party to a snug little poort, or 
 green, grassy hollow, where we might halt 
 safely for the night. 
 
 I knew the place well, having there once 
 brought down an elephant with a gun which 
 was slung at the back of my waggon — one of 
 large calibre, fashioned for such sport, and 
 throwing balls of which four go to the pound. 
 
 Thrice we passed some naked Fingoes — 
 tall, lithe, and active-looking savages — armed, 
 as usual, with muskets and assegais, their felt 
 hats ornamented with plumage of the ostrich, 
 or the Caffre crane, and the brush of the 
 jackal, and having at their waists, suspended 
 from steel hooks of their own manufacture, a 
 large bag made without a seam from the skin 
 of the wild cat. In these pouches they car- 
 ried their tobacco, their iquako or snuff-box, 
 their food, and sometimes ammunition, while 
 on the outside were stuck a knife and spoon 
 of metal. 
 
 These warned us in their guttural dialect 
 
106 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 that numerous parties of Caffres under Ma- 
 como, and rebel Hottentots — many of the 
 latter being deserters from the Cape Mounted 
 Rifles, with some half-caste Boors under Mark 
 Graaff — were in motion in the bush, and nu- 
 merous enough to cut us off to a man. 
 
 c Mark Graaff ! Is not that the fellow I 
 saved you from last night?' said Douglas. 
 
 ' The same scoundrel. He has been on 
 my trail ever since I set out from Zwagens 
 Hoek, more than sixty miles from this, on my 
 homeward journey to the coast. I hope to 
 have the fellow covered by my rifle yet, and 
 if I can get him within eight hundred yards, 
 may heaven help him.' 
 
 This was, as Douglas said, ' lively intelli- 
 gence' for our little party to receive in the 
 wild and open bush, far from succour, and 
 the men looked blankly yet resolutely in each 
 other's faces as they pushed on with scorched 
 and blistered lips, for the sun was fierce and 
 hot now, and in their hearts they were well 
 inclined to anathematise a war in which much 
 toil must necessarily be undergone, and many 
 brave lives lost without honour being won, 
 for the Caffre contest was one of those petty 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 107 
 
 strifes of which John Bull makes no account 
 at home. 
 
 Only once did we pass anything like a 
 human habitation — a house and cattle kraal, 
 once the dwelling of a Dutch farmer and ex- 
 field cornet, by whose table I had more than 
 once enjoyed a meerschaum. It stood in an 
 open place, enclosed by stockades, and its 
 windows appeared to be all barricaded with 
 bags, boxes, and barrels filled with sand — im- 
 promptu fascines — and its walls were loop- 
 holed ; but whether it had been attacked we 
 knew not, for it was empty now, and aban- 
 doned to the snakes and crows. 
 
 ' Push on, my man,' said I to a High- 
 lander, who was beginning to lag a little. 
 c To drop to the rear here is only to court 
 assassination.' 
 
 ' A knapsack, havresack, and blanket, with 
 sixty rounds of ammunition, are a hard load 
 on a long march, sir,' replied the soldier; 
 1 but a sad heart is the heaviest load of all !' 
 
 ' Is this your case ?' I asked. 
 
 ' I've left my poor wife and three bit 
 bairnies behind me at Cape Town, and heaven 
 only kens if I shall ever see them mair.' 
 
108 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 By Jove, Gerard, this fellow's case is 
 worse than ours.' 
 
 c He is sad when he thinks of his own 
 wife, and I am so when I think of the wife of 
 another,' replied Douglas, in a cynical tone; 
 but I observed that the soldier I had spoken 
 to looked crushed and abstracted in manner, 
 as if a foreboding of coming evil haunted 
 him. 
 
 The sun was setting beyond the range of 
 hills that rise between Albany and Uitenhagen, 
 when we reached the poort or glen, a lonely 
 and most lovely little spot, where a small but 
 deep stream flowed, and our thirsty soldiers 
 greeted it with a shout of rapture as they 
 threw themselves beside it and filled their 
 canteens. 
 
 Around this sequestered hollow were 
 groves of orange trees, covered with ripe 
 golden fruit from their highest to their lowest 
 branches, which were bent to the sward be- 
 neath the juicy load. Of this fruit we all 
 partook freely, and found many fine bananas 
 growing among the trees, where the dense 
 undergrowth was full of buzzing insect life. 
 
 Arms were piled, a fire lighted for cook- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 109 
 
 ing, our horses were knee-haltered, and my 
 team of oxen were untraced to graze by 
 Adrian Africander. 
 
 Douglas and I reconnoitred the locality. 
 The stream protected us from approach on 
 one side and a ridge of rocks upon the other. 
 On the summit of this ridge we posted one 
 sentinel, a second was placed in advance at 
 the head of the ravine, and a third in our 
 rear at the lower end, so that no one could 
 approach us unseen or without being fired on. 
 The night closed quietly in, the shadows 
 deepened in the orange groves, and the sol- 
 diers lay down to sleep under the branches 
 with their greatcoats and blankets only as a 
 protection from the dew, for the party was 
 without a single tent, or the means of con- 
 veying it. 
 
 After a glass of brandy and water and a 
 pipe of cavendish, Douglas had partaken him- 
 self to roost on one shaft of my waggon, and 
 I was seated on the other, lost in thought of 
 Clarice and all that Douglas had told me yes- 
 terday, but watching the first segment of the 
 moon as it rose, broad, vast, and yellow above 
 the opposite side of the glen, the outline of 
 
110 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 which stood darkly defined against the sky 
 about a quarter of a mile distant. 
 
 Up, up she rose, the queen of night, to 
 pour a flood of bright radiance upon the little 
 stream and the orange trees, with all their 
 globes of golden fruit ; but about the moment 
 when her disc, round, luminous, and vast, 
 like a harvest moon at home, but singularly 
 ruddy and fiery in hue, was clear of the 
 ridge, we suddenly saw the figure of a man, 
 armed Avith a long gun, and wearing a Fingo 
 hat, appear in strong and dark outline against 
 the shining circle. 
 
 Looming thus between us and the light, 
 his figure appeared gigantic, and we had not 
 the least doubt of his being a CafFre scout,- 
 who was looking steadily and observantly 
 down upon our bivouac, all unaware that his 
 figure was so distinctly revealed to us by the 
 moon disc behind him. 
 
 The effect of this dark and silent figure 
 was very singular, as he stood motionless and 
 leaning on his gun, until the moon rose sky- 
 ward clear of the ridge, and no farther trace 
 of him could be seen. 
 
 4 1 am certain we might have potted that 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? Ill 
 
 fellow,' said Douglas. c He was not above six 
 hundred yards distant.' 
 
 c But we are uncertain of his character. 
 He did not seem to be a naked savage,' said I. 
 
 ' True ; but the Dutch boors are as much 
 our enemies as the Caffres themselves.' 
 
 This little episode, coupled with the ad- 
 vices of the Fingoes we had met, gave Douglas 
 and me an unpleasant impression of insecurity, 
 and doubts of how the night might pass. He 
 ordered his party to load and cap their rifles, 
 and visited his three sentinels, whom he 
 changed every hour, to urge upon them the 
 necessity of exerting the utmost vigilance, lest 
 we might be stolen upon and all butchered in 
 cold blood, and in such a fashion as savages 
 alone could conceive and execute. 
 
 ' This kind of work is somewhat more ex- 
 citing than mounting guard on an English 
 barrack of orthodox brick — the national 
 colour, red, faced with white corners,' said 
 Douglas, as he filled his pipe again, and 
 handed me his tobacco-pouch. 
 
 ' Yes,' I replied, ' or the daily routine and 
 stupidity of the sham camp at Aldershott, 
 with its dust and sunshine in that infernal 
 
112 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Long Valley, that all the Line know so well 
 about; and then at night the monotonous 
 click of billiard-balls in the gaming hut, and 
 the silly laughter from the open windows of 
 the messrooms — eh ?' 
 
 4 Yes ; but one misses the messroom here, 
 Dick,' said Douglas, laughing ; ' and though 
 out of the service, you still retain a soldier's 
 privilege.' 
 
 1 To grumble?' 
 
 1 Yes. A shot, by heavens !' exclaimed 
 Douglas, starting up, sword in hand, as the 
 crack of a rifle rang at the lower end of the 
 ravine, and we saw its light smoke curling 
 away upward in the moonlight. l Stand to 
 your arms, men ! Fall in, and fix bayonets !' 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 We never doubted but that the Caffres were 
 upon us ; and even Farquharson and Bruce, 
 the two sick soldiers, tottered out of the wag- 
 gon with their rifles, intent on selling their 
 lives as dearly as possible, while the piper, 
 Mac Gillivray, armed himself with one of my 
 double-barrelled pieces, and Adrian Africander 
 ground his sharp teeth with savage fury as he 
 put a fresh cap upon my elephant gun, as 
 being the most deadly weapon he could wield. 
 
 With our revolvers cocked, Douglas and I 
 hastened to the place where the shot had been 
 heard, and the smoke seen to curl upward in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 Our sentinel, who had been posted in the 
 open portion of the ravine, was lying there on 
 his back, stone dead. 
 
 His forage-cap, with its circle of Scotch 
 chequer, had fallen, and already his jaw had 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 become relaxed and his face livid. A ball 
 had pierced his heart, and now over the breast 
 of his coarse blue blouse and his white, pipe- 
 clayed shoulder-belt the blood was slowly 
 oozing in a small dark streak. 
 
 He proved to be the same man to whom 
 I had spoken on the march ; so the poor fel- 
 low's sad presentiment had soon been fulfilled. 
 
 We looked blankly in each other's faces, 
 and searched all the bush in the vicinity of 
 this terrible episode, the soldiers driving their 
 bayonets into the masses of jungle and raising 
 therefrom clouds of insects ; but no trace of a 
 hostile C afire or lurking Hottentot could be 
 found. 
 
 c Can he have shot himself?' suggested 
 Burns, the sergeant, a grave-eyed and hard- 
 featured Scot. 
 
 ' Xo,' replied a soldier; 'the poor fellow's 
 rifle is loaded and capped.' 
 
 ' Post the next man for duty, Burns, and 
 let him keep a sharp look-out; the safety of 
 his own life and all our lives may depend 
 upon his doing so,' said Douglas emphatic- 
 ally. 
 
 And leaving another soldier on this peril. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 115 
 
 ous post, with instructions to watch well the 
 open portion of the ravine, to remain steadily 
 on his own ground and not to walk about, but 
 to listen attentively to every sound, even the 
 stirring of a leaf, we left him, and bore with 
 us the body of the man who had just fallen. 
 
 1 It must be that which a writer terms " the 
 thirst to kill that lies innate in humanity, " 
 which inspires those Caffre brutes,' said Doug- 
 las ; ' but for that, we might feel quite secure 
 here under these lovely orange trees.' 
 
 We, of course, connected this event with 
 the figure which we saw so strangely and pic- 
 turesquely against the disc of the rising moon ; 
 and a great emotion of uneasiness and doubt 
 stole over the whole party. The Highlanders 
 retained their rifles in their hands, and lin- 
 gered about the vicinity of my waggon, smok- 
 ing their pipes, and breaking the long pauses 
 in their conversation by surmises as to c what 
 the deuce would turn up next.' 
 
 But we were not kept long in suspense. 
 
 Another shot, followed by a shrill cry, 
 broke the silence of the kloof, ' piercing the 
 night's dull ear,' and giving us all a species 
 of electric shock. 
 
116 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Again we rushed to the spot, and there 
 lay our second sentinel on his back, writhing 
 apparently in mortal agony. His cap had also 
 fallen off, a bullet had pierced his throat, from 
 the double wounds in which — it had passed 
 clean through — and from his mouth, the blood 
 was pouring in torrents. His tongue, which 
 we eventually found to be frightfully lacerated 
 about the root, was lolled forth amid foam and 
 bloody saliva, distending fast to a terrible and 
 unnatural size, while his eyeballs were starting 
 from their sockets, and protruding horribly in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 A fierce malediction escaped Douglas, and 
 was echoed deeply by all his men on beholding 
 this appalling sight. We were without a sur- 
 geon ; and knowing nothing of the nature of 
 the wound, or how to stop the haemorrhage, 
 were totally without the means of alleviating 
 his sufferings, which were terrible, and excited 
 the commiseration of all. 
 
 We took off his accoutrements, opened his 
 blouse, and removed him to my waggon, where 
 a bed was made for him of the softest skins I 
 possessed ; but there he expired in our hands, 
 almost before Douglas had time to post a third 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 117 
 
 sentinel, which he only did after a long and 
 careful search about the rocks and trees, and 
 bravely standing in many places conspicuously 
 in the moonlight, as if to court a ball from the 
 lurker, that by drawing his fire we might 
 discover his secret hiding-place. The third 
 sentinel was a resolute fellow, and took his 
 post fearlessly. He stood with ears and eyes 
 strained, and kept his rifle at full cock, ready 
 to fire on any object, or at any alarm, however 
 trivial, that stirred near him; but he had not 
 been left by himself for ten minutes when he 
 uttered a cry of pain, and we heard the ex- 
 plosion of two rifles. 
 
 The man was seated on the ground when 
 we gathered about him. A ball had fractured 
 his left leg above the knee-joint, and his rifle 
 had been discharged harmless as he sank be- 
 neath the shot. 
 
 'But where did it come from — did you 
 see?' asked Douglas impetuously. 
 
 c I can't say, sir,' moaned the sufferer 
 through his teeth. ' I heard a jackal howl in 
 the bush, and turned to the left for a moment. 
 Then I heard the firing of a rifle as my leg 
 snapt under me.' 
 
118 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 To the left ! So, then, the shot must 
 come from the right,' said Douglas. 
 
 ' Carry him to my waggon. I can bind 
 the wound up, and to-morrow we shall reach 
 Graham's Town,' said I. 
 
 4 By heavens, the waggon will soon be 
 filled with killed and wounded men, if this 
 infernal work continues!' exclaimed Douglas, 
 as he proceeded, in rage and commiseration, to 
 search the locality for a third time, but in vain. 
 
 I soon dressed the wound temporarily ; for 
 in the bush I had won considerable experi- 
 ence of gunshot scars, bites, cuts, and slashes. 
 I gave the sufferer some brandy and water, left 
 him in my waggon, attended by his comrades, 
 and rejoined Douglas. 
 
 ' There is at least one savage lurking some- 
 where near us,' said I ; ' and as I know some- 
 thing of the ways of these Bushmen, you must 
 leave me to draw the cover. I shall be your 
 fourth sentinel here in the open part of the 
 kloof.' 
 
 ' I was about to take that duty on myself.' 
 
 ' You have your men to lead ; I am with- 
 out care or responsibility. I have not a soul 
 in the world to regret me.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 119 
 
 ' But if you should fall, Dick? 
 
 1 Then I bequeath to you the contents of 
 my purse and hunting-pouch, Gerard — remem- 
 ber that — to bury them with me in the bush,' 
 said I, with something between a sigh and a 
 laugh in my throat. 
 
 ' It is a terrible risk — a mere chance you 
 have for life. Even now the scoundrel's rifle 
 may be covering us both.' 
 
 i True; but remember that, "when chances 
 become desperate, a desperate chance often 
 wins," and we must unearth and kill this fellow.' 
 
 I quickly took up the rifles of the three 
 men who had fallen, piled them in a pyramid 
 by locking the ramrods together; over them 
 I threw a greatcoat and placed on the top a 
 Highland bonnet ; and leaving this dummy 
 figure in a shady place under the trees, Doug- 
 las and I returned to the main body of our 
 party, who seemed to consider my waggon 
 their rallying point or headquarters. 
 
 Returning by a detour, crawling on my 
 hands and knees, with my rifle and revolver 
 carefully capped anew, I drew close to the 
 place where the blood of our three poor fellows 
 was still visible on the grass. 
 
120 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 The moon was waning now, and all was 
 still — so still that I could hear the dew plash 
 heavily as it fell from some overcharged leaf 
 on the grass below. 
 
 On I crept softly, and, as I flattered my- 
 self, unseen, beyond the spot where my mock 
 sentinel stood ; for I knew that the shots must 
 have come from some place a little way down 
 the ravine, and to the right of the sentinel's 
 post. 
 
 I remained in shadow, and concealed 
 among the jungle-grass, with nry drawn hunt- 
 ing-knife in my teeth, as I knew not the mo- 
 ment I might find myself within arm's length 
 of some active and athletic savage, lurking in 
 the bush, and then a hand-to-hand conflict 
 for life or death was certain to ensue. 
 
 At last I found myself close to a natural 
 object in the ravine — a feature which we had 
 overlooked in our first reconnaissance, or of 
 which Douglas, having newly arrived in the 
 country, knew not the precise nature — and 
 my heart beat so wildly that I could scarcely 
 breathe, for it seemed that now this deadly 
 mystery was about to be solved. 
 
 In fact, I found my progress suddenly im- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 121 
 
 peded by one of those vast decayed boulders 
 or hollow blocks which are so common among 
 the hills of South Africa, and which, by falling 
 from the summits of the cliffs as time or tor- 
 rents dislodge them, into the glens or kloofs 
 below, are at times rent asunder by their own 
 weight, and become so completely excavated 
 that nothing but the external crust or shell 
 remains. 
 
 Such hollow boulders are very plentiful in 
 the Cape Colony, but are chiefly to be found 
 in masses between the Lion's Head and the 
 sea; and they are so large that at times they 
 have been adopted as lurking-places, and even 
 as habitations, by runaway slaves. 
 
 Close by one of those hollow blocks did I 
 now find myself, and therein doubtless was 
 the assassin lurking. 
 
 I listened, and heard within it sounds that 
 convinced me it had a tenant. The block 
 was some nine or ten feet in diameter, and 
 must, I knew, be partially open on the other 
 side. 
 
 Relinquishing my rifle, as too long a wea- 
 pon for close quarters, armed with my knife 
 and revolver-pistol, I crept round with soft 
 
122 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 and stealthy steps, and at that moment a man 
 bounded forth. 
 
 I closed with him, and, unluckily, in doing 
 so, dropped my pistol, but grasped him by the 
 throat. My knife yet remained, but he seized 
 my right wrist, letting fall his musket as he 
 did so ; and so fierce and intense was the 
 clutch that Ave had of each other, that not a 
 sound, save our deep breathing, escaped us. 
 
 The moon, I have said, was waning; but 
 her light was yet sufficiently brilliant to show 
 me the features of my antagonist. 
 
 Scorched, sunburnt, blackened, and wea- 
 therbeaten though they were, and surmounted 
 by a Fingo hat, I could see that their owner 
 was no Caffre, with hooked nose and huge lips, 
 no Hottentot, with negro features and yellow 
 eyeballs, but a European man. 
 
 4 Mark Graaff!' I exclaimed, as I recognised 
 the outlaw by a livid scar which traversed his 
 nose and cheeks, when, in some skirmish in 
 the bush, he had come under the sabre of a 
 Cape Mounted Rifleman. 
 
 'Ay, MarkGraafF!' said he hoarsely, through 
 his firmly- set teeth. 
 
 ' Scoundrel and robber, have I got you by 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 123 
 
 the throat at last? You shall han£ like a dog 
 for this murderous night's work.' 
 
 'Shall I, Captain Haddon?' said the fellow 
 mockingly, as he bent me back with a strength 
 superior to my own, and I felt his horrid 
 breath, like that of a wild animal, on my 
 cheek, as he uttered a fierce and half insane 
 laugh in my ear — a laugh I had heard once 
 before; but where? 
 
 And now a bewildering recollection of his 
 face came over me — a recollection that con- 
 fused and deprived me of the full power of 
 resistance, and twice he made an ineffectual 
 clutch at my hunting-pouch, as if plunder was 
 his object quite as much as slaughter. 
 
 Suddenly he flung me from him, and as I 
 was falling he fired a pistol full at my head. 
 The powder scorched and the explosion 
 stunned me, but the bullet only grazed the tip 
 of my right ear. When I sprang up, knife in 
 hand, to renew the struggle, the man had 
 vanished, and I found myself surrounded by 
 Douglas's Highlanders, with their bayonets 
 at the charge. 
 
 But to me the most startling event of the 
 night was the circumstance that the face which 
 
124 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 had grinned so fiercely and so strangely into 
 mine, and wakened an old memory, seemed to 
 have been that of my old enemy, Sharkeigh, 
 the conspirator -with Prudence Grubb, the 
 Border poacher, the gipsy of Yetholm ! 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 The bushranger's musket was found empty, 
 and to have been recently discharged, so that 
 either his ammunition had been expended, or 
 my sudden approach had prevented him re- 
 loading. 
 
 ' Sharkeigh, your Border poacher, here — 
 as Mark Graaff, the alleged Dutch half-caste — 
 the escaped convict and bushranger, who has 
 married, it is said, a Caffre woman ? This 
 must be impossible,' said Douglas, after he 
 had heard my story. ; Depend upon it, this 
 must be illusion — all.' 
 
 ' Why so?' 
 
 c We have been talking [so much of home 
 and the past lately that your imagination has 
 deceived you. Then the weird effect of the 
 moonlight on his scarred visage should be re- 
 membered.' 
 
 ' The likeness utterly bewildered me.' 
 
126 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 Anyway, I am sorry the scoundrel has 
 escaped.' 
 
 ( I would give a hundred guineas to be as 
 close to him once again as I have been to-night/ 
 I exclaimed, with fiery energy ; ' yet he very 
 nearly finished me by that pistol-shot. Oh, I'd 
 have him well jamboked, and then hung!' 
 
 ' This Mark Graaff is a well-known outlaw 
 here, by all accounts, it would seem?' 
 
 ' Too well known. Long before this Caffre 
 war began — for some four years, at least — 
 Mark Graaff has been hunted through the 
 mountains, woods, and kloofs by the troops 
 and Caffre police — especially by the Cape 
 Mounted Rifles — for robbing and murdering 
 farmers or tiek-boors, breaking horse-kraals, 
 firing the karoo-bushes, and committing all 
 manner of outrages against law and good order, 
 till he has every man's hand against him, and 
 has engendered in himself a hatred of all au- 
 thority that amounts to frenzy — to insanity.' 
 
 ' A pleasant character ! Hence his mad 
 assassination of my poor men?' 
 
 ' Exactly ; and should he and Mark Shar- 
 keigh, the transported poacher, prove to be 
 one and the same person, it may in a great 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 127 
 
 measure account for the unrelenting hate with 
 which he has pursued me at times ; and, now 
 that I think of it, by heavens ! the fellow men- 
 tioned me by name to-night.' 
 
 ' By name, did he ?' 
 
 'Yes, as Captain Haddon. Now, here in 
 the Cape Colony I am simply known as Mr. 
 Eichard, the Caffre trader. But during all 
 this last trip he has been close on my trail 
 from Zwagens Hoek. ? 
 
 ' Ah ! the contents of your waggon, skins 
 and ivory.' 
 
 ' Less these than the contents of my purse 
 and hunting-pouch — ' 
 
 c Which you bequeathed to me in case you 
 fell to-night-' 
 
 ' And still bequeath in case I fall in a future 
 time,' said I gravely. 'You will find the 
 legacy a valuable one, Gerard. I have dia- 
 monds which I got among the Griquas worth 
 many thousand pounds, and they are fine peb- 
 bles to pave one's pocket with, 7 
 
 'The Griquas — who are they?' 
 
 ' An African tribe, of mixed race, descended 
 from the original Dutch colonists of South 
 Africa and the aboriginal Hottentots. They 
 
128 SHALL I WIN IIER? 
 
 dwell along the banks of the Orange River for 
 more than seven hundred miles, and Mark 
 GraafF knew I had been among them. But if 
 he should be Sharkeigh — here,' said I, recur- 
 ring to the former idea, 'here in the Cape 
 Colony — ' 
 
 'Why, Clarice Haywood is here, and 
 Fanny, too, for the matter of that,' replied 
 Douglas. 
 
 "Gad! I shall not be surprised if the next 
 party who turns up should prove to be that 
 artful old harridan, Prue Grubb, with her 
 white, sanctimonious visage, and her scriptural 
 quotations. In my CaiFre experiences, I have 
 seen tiger-wolves with all manner of spots, 
 and snakes with many kinds of scales, but the 
 character of this ubiquitous Mark GraafF — if 
 such be his name — is beyond my comprehen- 
 sion.' 
 
 The remainder of that restless night was 
 soon passed, and with early dawn we left the 
 fatal ravine, where, with no small emotions of 
 rage and regret, the Highlanders interred their 
 two dead men, heaping stones and branches 
 of the wache-em-betje, or sharp and prickly 
 Cape thorn, above the double grave, to pre- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 129 
 
 vent wild animals from disturbing the re- 
 mains. 
 
 Then my team was put in motion, and we 
 continued our eastern route, on and on — 
 through groves of the orange and the ingouja, 
 large trees, bearing an oval fruit of the drupa 
 kind, and of a delicious flavour, resembling 
 that of sugar acidulated with lemon juice — 
 over wastes covered with the wild tulip, where 
 the gazelle bounded past and the gentle giraffe 
 reared up his head to look at us — anon over 
 plains of buckwheat and maize, with its huge 
 ears folded in smooth husks that looked full 
 and large, and bent beneath the soft breeze 
 that came from the Zum Bergen. The bright 
 golden heads and long green blades were sway- 
 ing gracefully to and fro, with the yellow 
 cuckoo and the tiny sugar-bird twittering 
 among them, while overhead in the clear blue 
 welkin the black vulture and ravenous kite 
 were hovering ere they made, as they did from 
 time to time, a swoop down to devour them. 
 
 The way was level, and ere long we reached 
 the beaten highway. My waggon rumbled 
 smoothly on now ; but the poor wounded 
 Highlander in it had fevered and sickened fast. 
 
 VOL. I. k 
 
130 SHALL I WIX HER ? 
 
 Oblivious of all about him, he was making a 
 rapid passage from the hearty and stirring life 
 around us, and from the bright and glorious 
 sunshine in which that far and fertile land- 
 scape lay steeped, to that mysterious life that 
 lies beyond the ken of mortal eyes. 
 
 In the extreme roughness of the road when 
 we first toiled out of the poort, or glen, and 
 amid the heat of the day, he rapidly became 
 delirious, and all my little skill failed to al- 
 leviate his sufferings. Hourly he drew nearer 
 the boundary of the unseen world, and ex- 
 pired just as the lovely valley in the centre of 
 which Graham's Town nestles opened before 
 us. 
 
 He was little more than a boy, and died 
 raving of his mother, and her cottage in the 
 Carse of Gowrie. 
 
 He died in the cardell (or cot) of my 
 waggon — a light frame, eight feet long, which 
 occupies the breadth of those vehicles, and is 
 laced together with strips of thong, on which 
 the mattress is placed, though the Caffre trader 
 can seldom taste the luxury of sleep there, 
 even during a halt, having to keep armed 
 watch and ward over his cattle and property. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 131 
 
 Proceeding by the waggon track, ere long 
 we reached Graham's Town, a nourishing 
 settlement situated in a lovely hollow sur- 
 rounded by high green hills. Lately it was 
 only a military post, thirty- five miles distant 
 from sea, but is now a prosperous town amid 
 a rich agricultural district, with some seven 
 thousand inhabitants, of whom more than a 
 thousand are Fingoes and Hottentots. 
 
 In the principal street there still stands the 
 solitary mimosa tree under which Colonel 
 Graham, an adventurous Scottish officer, first 
 pitched his tent, when the fierce Amaponda 
 Caffres held the neighbouring mountains, and 
 the now quiet pastoral kloofs between were 
 full of savage animals. 
 
 As we marched in we felt the influence of 
 the hot wind, which there blows over the 
 sandy surfaces from the interior, rendering 
 the air so dry and arid as to create a parched 
 sensation in the lips, and a longing for pale 
 ale or iced Cliquot. 
 
 The unusual strains of the bagpipe, as we 
 marched in to the air of ' The Haughs of 
 Cromdale,' drew all the population to the 
 principal street, where crowds of Fingoes, 
 
132 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 yellow-brown Hottentots, and even Malays, 
 rushed after and capered around us. Some 
 were gaily attired in wonderful cottons, with 
 douks or bandanas tied round their woolly 
 heads; others, a la Chinese, had long, sharp 
 skewers of brass stuck through their plaited 
 hair, with scales and ornaments of brass sewn 
 upon their cowhides, or the dirty blankets 
 which formed the chief portion of their attire. 
 These were the denizens of what may be 
 termed the ' back slums' of Graham's Town. 
 Of course, the British and few Dutch residents 
 were like comfortable and well-to-do colonists 
 everywhere. 
 
 £ Now for your snug old inn with the 
 popular young barmaid,' said Douglas. 
 
 'It is yonder quaint house with all the 
 gables — said once to have been a residence of 
 General Jansen, who surrendered the Cape to 
 Sir David Baird.' 
 
 < We'll talk " Guide Book," Dick, when I 
 rejoin you.' 
 
 'Where are you going ? 
 1 1 must see the mayor about billets for 
 my men, and arrange about the burial of the 
 poor fellow in your waggon.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 133 
 
 4 True ; then you will find me at the Halve 
 Mone, Mynheer Hendrick Leyden, at the end 
 of the principal street. Inquire for Mr. Rich- 
 ard — I am known by that name here.' 
 
 Douglas halted his men, and thus drew off 
 the obnoxious crowd, while Adrian Africander 
 and his assistants drove my team of weary 
 oxen, with much vociferation and noise, to- 
 wards the great yard of the old inn, shouting 
 to the animals by their pet names, while they 
 panted in the hot wind, strained on their 
 collars, and winced under the lash of the mer- 
 ciless jamb ok. 
 
 c Now, Schwartlande, you verdom kind P 
 'Schotlande, you black duivel!' ' Wo, ha, wo 
 ha!' 4 Creishman, my pooty!' and so forth, 
 using the strange jargon of the Dutch Hotten- 
 tots and cattle- drivers. 
 
 At the back porch of the inn I was met 
 and welcomed by Mynheer Leyden himself, a 
 fine specimen of a portly and sleek old Dutch 
 colonist, who was quite content to learn and 
 use the English language, to make money un- 
 der British rule, and to forget all about the 
 days when the flag of the Dutch admiral 
 waved in Table Bay, and when General Baird 
 
134 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 and Sir Home Popham added the Cape of 
 Good Hope to the British Empire — a time 
 still remembered with bitterness by the Dutch 
 colonists. 
 
 He wore a broad-brimmed straw hat and 
 a very roomy pair of inexpressibles, with a 
 striped linen jacket, over the collar of which 
 his double chin fell in circles. From his lips 
 protruded a handsome pipe, with its bowl of 
 meerschaum, which he removed as he held 
 forth his large, fat hand, saying : 
 
 ' Welcome to the Halve Mone, Mynheer 
 Keechard! Outspan [i.e., unyoke] your oxen, 
 and join me in a bottle of Stellenbosch while 
 something comfortable is prepared for you.' 
 
 And in my usual fashion, though a year 
 had elapsed since I had last been there, I en- 
 tered the quaint, old-fashioned bar of the 
 Halve Mone, where the pretty Gertrude, a 
 blooming Dutch wench, still presided over 
 the liquors; and I found her, as formerly, 
 surrounded by sundry uncongenial, silent, 
 and smoking admirers, in the shape of Vee- 
 Boors, or graziers, Korn-Boors, and traders of 
 various kinds, who had come to the Graham's 
 Town market; and among some of these I 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 135 
 
 hoped to get rid of the contents of my waggon, 
 and even of the waggon and team, as I had 
 fully resolved, from the convulsed state of the 
 colony, to give up trading — for the time, at 
 least — as being too perilous, and to go to the 
 front with Gerard Douglas. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Over our bottle of Cape wine (from grapes 
 raised in the district called Stellenbosch), I 
 learned from Mynheer Hendrick Ley den all 
 the news of the disturbed locality north of 
 Graham's Town; of the progress of the troops 
 past the Coega River to Commando Kraal, on 
 the verge of the dangerous Addo Bush, where 
 our Fingo levies were encamped, and where 
 they joined General Somerset, armed with 
 assegais and old flint muskets. I heard, too, 
 of the spread of the Hottentot insurrection, 
 particularly at Theopolis ; of the night march 
 of the 74th Highlanders under Colonel For- 
 d} 7 ce, the total destruction of the rebel camp 
 and flight of many of the Caflres to join Orna- 
 como, and also Mark GraafF, whose outlaws 
 were, as I too well knew, on the move some- 
 where between Hell's Kloof and Graham's 
 Town, the inhabitants of which were pro- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 137 
 
 tected by a detachment of infantry in Fort 
 England. 
 
 As I listened to all these details of some 
 hard fighting, severe toil, and very barbarous 
 work — of murderous outrages, cruel mutila- 
 tion, and the utter fiendishness of the insur- 
 gent Caffres towards wounded, helpless people 
 or prisoners — told me by Mynheer Leyden, 
 between long, solemn, and laborious puffs of 
 the meerschaum, in the clouds from which he 
 was fast enveloping himself and becoming lost 
 to view — while listening, I say, and gazing 
 dreamily into the straggling street before the 
 inn windows, where the complexions and ap- 
 pearance of the passers-by were so varied and 
 striking — the fair-faced Englishman, the fat, 
 florid, and bulbous-shaped Dutcher, the pig- 
 tailed Chinaman, the brown Hottentot, the 
 swarthier Malay, and the coal-black negro, in 
 every variety of costume, and in some in- 
 stances almost without any — my attention was 
 suddenly arrested by the flashing of accoutre- 
 ments, the tramp of hoofs, and the appearance 
 of a mounted cavalcade, which came cantering 
 in, covered with dust, and drew up just before 
 the great porch of the Halve Mone. 
 
138 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 There were two ladies — English evidently 
 — mounted on nags of very jaded aspect, two 
 officers in staff uniform, whose cattle, like the 
 sumpter or baggage horses, seemed somewhat 
 blown, and there was an escort, which con- 
 sisted of a white sergeant and ten Cape Mounted 
 Riflemen in green uniforms, faced with black, 
 and armed with sabres and double-barrelled 
 rifles. 
 
 Mynheer Leyden, muttering his excuses, 
 hurried as fast as an obese Dutchman might 
 to receive them ; and after a time he returned 
 to inform me, with an air of importance, that 
 the new arrivals were two staff officers — one 
 a major — 'and their vives going to ze frond, 
 and dat dey would purchase my vaggon if I 
 was disposed to zell id — der duivel's braden! 
 I should make a goot bargains vis them if I 
 could — der vives were ver bretty too!' 
 
 4 Who on earth can those fools be who are 
 taking European women with them to the 
 front at a time like this?' exclaimed Douglas, 
 who had just joined us. 
 
 ' They are welcome to my waggon for less 
 than half the sum I paid for it,' said I. ' It 
 cost me sixty pounds last year at Cape Town ; 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 139 
 
 my team of oxen are black, well-trained Zuur- 
 felclt cattle, and cost me three guineas each, 
 and my knecht, or head servant, Adrian Afri- 
 cander, may go with them if the travellers 
 choose. Few drivers can handle a jambok as 
 he does. But, having once been an officer 
 myself, I do not like to chaffer with officers. 
 However, if — ' 
 
 4 1 will arrange all this for you/ said 
 Douglas. c Where are these gentlemen, Myn- 
 heer Leyden?' 
 
 4 In ze great frond room, mynheer.' 
 
 ' Precede me, please, and say that Captain 
 Douglas, of the 74th Foot, will do himself the 
 pleasure of waiting on them.' 
 
 ' Ya, mynheer.' 
 
 c If one is a major, I must, in duty bound, 
 report to him my arrival here with a detach- 
 ment en route to the front.' 
 
 ' Of course — thanks, Gerard,' said I, as he 
 put his claymore under his arm and left me. 
 
 My life of the last five years — a life that, 
 with all its perils, had not been without con- 
 siderable monetary success — was on the eve 
 of chano-ino* now. I might go back and live 
 in ease at Cape Town, or return to Europe, 
 
140 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 as I had recently some thoughts of doing ; but 
 I preferred the excitement of a brush with the 
 Caffres. 
 
 Pondering over the past, and surmising as 
 to the future — my chances of being shot in a 
 petty war, and finding a nameless grave in 
 the desert bush — I sat dreamily surveying 
 alternately the sunny street that extended to- 
 wards the fort, which consisted of detached 
 cottages and a turf-covered square, enclosed 
 by hedges of the prickly pear ; and, on the 
 other hand, the quaint stable-yard, the gal- 
 leries and gables of this old Dutch inn, which, 
 like most of the houses in that region, was 
 built of stone, cemented with a kind of glutin- 
 ous earth, and whitewashed on the outside, 
 with a roof of heavy thatch. 
 
 Its galleries, of which there was a double 
 tier, were composed of timber-work and 
 plaster, with grotesque heads carved on the 
 beam ends ; and its windows quaint, irregular, 
 and divided into many lights by mullions and 
 crossed transoms, glazed in lozenges, while 
 rows of bright- coloured pots with blossoming 
 flowers were placed upon the sills, and nume- 
 rous birdcages were hung on the wooden 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 141 
 
 pillars, all in the true taste of old Holland ; so 
 that the Halve Mone wanted but a stork's 
 nest on the chimney, and the long-legged bird 
 of grace and good omen perched upon the 
 steepest gable, to look like some old mansion 
 by the shores of the Zuyder Zee, or in the 
 Drowned Land at home. 
 
 I was suddenly roused by the hand of 
 Douglas being laid on my shoulder. I looked 
 up, and saw in an instant that there was, in 
 his grave and handsome face, a singular ex- 
 pression of annoyance and confusion, combined 
 with regret. 
 
 4 Dick,' said he, ' who think you those 
 brunettes are, that wish to purchase your 
 waggon and team?' 
 
 'Faith, I know little, and care less/ said I 
 impatiently ; c but you seem interested. Who 
 are they?' 
 
 ' The Haywoods and Chandos Carysfort.' 
 
 'What!' 
 
 c Clarice Haywood, her sister Fanny, and — 
 and Fanny's husband, Major Carysfort, of the 
 staff.' 
 
 I started from my seat, and gazed at 
 Douglas for a minute in silence. 
 
142 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 1 Clarice here in Graham's Town. Who 
 else is with her?' I asked abruptly. 
 
 c That fellow Percival Graves, of the Cold- 
 stream Guards; the extra aide-de-camp.' 
 
 'Mynheer Leyden spoke of two officers 
 and their wives V 
 
 1 Mynheer is a little confused, or mistaken 
 as to the marital arrangement, and blundered 
 the order for the rooms.' 
 
 1 You did not, I hope, speak of me ?' 
 
 1 No, Dick ; I had a somewhat difficult card 
 to play in my interview with the Carysforts. 
 I am the odd man out here. They are, how- 
 ever, just going to have tiffin, and have asked 
 us to join them.' 
 
 ' Us — including me ?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ■ And you consented ?' 
 
 4 For myself and for you — I had no excuse 
 to offer.' 
 
 ' But if all you have hinted about the at- 
 tentions of this Guardsman, Graves, has truth 
 in it, I would rather not meet — ' 
 
 4 Clarice Haywood ?' 
 
 ' Under present circumstances — yes.' 
 
 1 She will never recognise you, my friend, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 143 
 
 in that strange dress, in this out of the way 
 place too.' 
 
 4 You think so ?' I asked earnestly. 
 
 4 No, no more than I did when we first 
 met after the brush with the niggers in Hell's 
 Kloof. Besides, you forget that she knows 
 not that you are in Africa, or even alive ; she 
 thinks that after leaving London your ship 
 was lost, and with it all trace of you.' 
 
 4 True, true.' 
 
 4 So come along, there's a good fellow ; 
 your presence will help me through a deuced 
 awkward interview with Fanny — one I have no 
 wish for, as we parted last in a furious pet, of 
 which she may, perhaps, have repented after. 
 Then you have business to transact about the 
 sale of your waggon and team. How pleasant 
 to do it with Clarice herself.' 
 
 4 Oh, Douglas, how can you jest with me?' 
 I exclaimed. 
 
 The temptation to see her, to hear her 
 voice, to stand in her presence and look into 
 her eyes, to breathe the same air with her 
 once again, proved all too strong to be re- 
 sisted ; and as one in a dream I suffered my- 
 self to be led by Douglas into the large and 
 
144 SHALL I WIN HEK ? 
 
 spacious room in which the four travellers 
 were seated. 
 
 'Well, Captain Douglas/ said Major Ca- 
 rysfort, who was a handsome man in his 
 fortieth year, with something of a lisp in his 
 voice and a decidedly supercilious air, for he 
 knew well enough that he had supplanted, and 
 most tenderly wounded the good soldier he 
 now addressed ; i well, even in this age of uni- 
 versal vagabondism, while all the world is fly- 
 ing about by rail and steamer, you are about 
 the last person I should have expected to 
 meet here — here of all places.' 
 
 1 Why so ? You were aware that my regi- 
 ment is here on service, and had gone to the 
 front,' replied Douglas, so stiffly that Carys- 
 fort coloured for a moment ; ' and you forget, 
 major, that the world is narrowing as civilisa- 
 tion spreads ; so that by some odd chance one 
 becomes known everywhere.' 
 
 ' Ya-as, deuced good, ya-as, even in the 
 Caffre Bush,' drawled Mr. Percival Graves, 
 whose back was yet to me, for he was stooping 
 over Clarice. 
 
 4 Major Carysfort, allow me to introduce 
 my friend, Mr. Eichard, the well-known Caffre 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 145 
 
 trader/ said Douglas; 'Mrs. Carysfort, Miss 
 Haywood — Mr. Richard.' 
 
 ' Aw, the person whose waggon we are about 
 to buy,' whispered Percival Graves, who was 
 undoubtedly a handsome young fellow, but, 
 apparently, an insufferable fop, with a bando- 
 lined moustache and parted hair; and who, 
 w r ith great empressement and fuss, was at that 
 moment buttoning an obstinate kid glove upon 
 the hand of Clarice ; ' a waggon, by Jove ! 
 Only think — aw — of tooling along the Lady's 
 Mile when the carriages are thickest in such a 
 vehicle, with fourteen oxen in hand!' 
 
 'Mr. Graves, Mr. Richard is my friend/ 
 said Douglas, with the slightest detectable 
 asperity in his tone. 
 
 Graves bowed briefly, and surveyed me 
 through his eyeglass, for now the buttoning 
 of the glove had been achieved. 
 
 How often had I held that hand in mine ! 
 How often kissed and fondled it ; how often 
 pressed to my side that treasured and coveted 
 little hand, when it had rested caressingly on 
 my arm, in the pleasant evening walks at 
 home — at home long, long ago ! 
 
 Clarice bowed to me, and so did Fanny, 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 with an air of polite, partly condescending in- 
 terest ; but no sign of recognition shone in the 
 fair, soft face of either sister. 
 
 In the bronzed and bearded figure that 
 stood before them now, with features scorched 
 and blackened by daily exposure to the fierce 
 sun of Southern Africa — this rough-looking 
 fellow, clad in a coarse blouse, to which the 
 weather had given a somewhat neutral tint, 
 girt by a belt of hide, at which hung his 
 pouch, and knife, and pistols, with coarse leg- 
 gings of tiger skin, and rough feldt-shoen, a 
 broad-leaved hat garnished with an ostrich 
 feather — it would be difficult to recognise the 
 smartly-inoustached, glazed-booted, and kid- 
 gloved Fusilier officer of five years ago at 
 Walcot Tower and pleasant Haddonrig ! 
 
 Save that she was more womanly, even 
 matronly in appearance, my Clarice was un- 
 changed since then. 
 
 She and her sister wore white holland rid- 
 ing habits, bordered with blue; their broad 
 hats with ostrich feathers were thrown aside, 
 and notwithstanding the sun of the Cape Co- 
 lony, Clarice had still all that wonderful purity 
 and brilliance of complexion which so often 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 147 
 
 accompany hazel eyes, with hair of her chest- 
 nut, or rather auburn tint. There was a soft 
 delicacy in all her features, with a patrician 
 air of calm somewhat different from the sparkle 
 and abandon of her sister Fanny, whose fea- 
 tures were also very fair and beautiful, with 
 laughing dark gray eyes and a profusion of 
 golden hair, to which the sunlight, as it 
 streamed aslant through a window near her, 
 gave the aspect of a shining aureole round her 
 head. 
 
 ' Be seated, Mr. Richard, please,' said Ma- 
 jor Carysfort. ' 1 have asked Captain Douglas 
 to have a little tiffin with us ; and if you will 
 do us the favour to join him, we shall talk of 
 business after.' 
 
 ' With pleasure,' I replied, as I took a seat 
 near Clarice, and felt my cheek redden at the 
 majors tone, in which there was a marked as- 
 sumption of superiority. 
 
 ' How long have you been in this strange 
 country, Mr. Richard?' asked Miss Haywood. 
 
 ' Five years nearly,' said I, with an effort, 
 for when I heard her well-remembered voice 
 I felt, like Claude Melnotte, in all its force, 
 L the old time come o'er me.' 
 
148 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 An electric thrill passed through every 
 nerve, and, as I listened breathlessly for her 
 to speak again, I seemed to take np a link that 
 had been dropped — the link of a previous 
 period of existence. 
 
 'Five years, and all that time you have 
 been here ?' she exclaimed. 
 
 1 Nearly all that time,' I replied in a chok- 
 ing voice, and half repenting my character of 
 incognito. 
 
 ' Pardon our curiosity.' 
 
 'It is a prerogative of the ladies,' said 
 Carysfort. 
 
 ' You must have seen some wild work — 
 dooced wild work — ya-as, of course,' said 
 Graves, a solemn, slow, and lackadaisical fel- 
 low, who drawled, and used to for r so persist- 
 ently, that I do not mean to follow him ; but 
 he had a cool, patronising air, that wcunded 
 my pride and exasperated me ; ' you must 
 have some queer stories to tell us, wegular 
 waspers, eh — ya-as,' he added, but I did not 
 reply. 
 
 'And you are a Caffre trader, sir?' said 
 Mrs. Carysfort, with a nod of her pretty head. 
 
 ' Yes, madam.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 149 
 
 4 Going always among those dreadful sav- 
 
 ages ?' 
 
 ' From time to time.' 
 
 ' Without fear of them ?' 
 
 1 Hitherto I have had none ; but now times 
 are changed, and we are at war.' 
 
 ' Such a strange life you must lead,' said 
 Clarice thoughtfully, playing with her jewelled 
 riding switch. 
 
 c An adventurous one, certainly, Miss Hay- 
 wood. To procure ivory I must shoot the 
 elephant, or buy his tusks from the natives by 
 giving them beads and buttons, powder and 
 shot; to get the skin of the tiger-wolf and 
 other wild animals, I have to use my weapons 
 and skill, and every day's meal depends upon 
 the accuracy of my aim, and the culinary talent 
 of Adrian Africander, the knecht who attends 
 me.' 
 
 1 Your life must be quite like one of the 
 adventurous romances one reads,' said Carys- 
 fort, laughing. 
 
 ' Do your family travel with you in that 
 huge waggon ? Has your wife no fear ?' began 
 Mrs. Carysfort. 
 
 4 1 have no wife, madam,' said I coldly. 
 
150 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 ' Not here, of course ; but it will be deuced 
 queer if you haven't one in the bush, ya-as — 
 some pretty CafFre girl, eh?' drawled Graves,, 
 as he leisurely bit off the end of a cigar, pre- 
 paratory to smoking, and I gave Douglas a 
 glance expressive of impatience. 
 
 'Pardon me,' resumed the incorrigible 
 Fanny, laughing; 'but is your companion in 
 these wild wanderings always that dreadful- 
 looking Hottentot V she asked, pointing to 
 where my attendant was finishing some mess 
 of his own cooking — a repast contained in a 
 gourd — by carefully wiping his metal knife, 
 fork, and spoon on his own woolly caput, prior 
 to replacing them in his travelling bag. 
 
 4 Adrian Africander is a very steady fellow/ 
 said I ; ' and, moreover, is a pensioner from the 
 Cape Mounted Eifles. I was not always what 
 I am,' I added, with an irrepressible burst of 
 feeling, under which I saw Douglas wince and 
 smile ; ' I was not always the homeless wan- 
 derer you find me now, Miss Haywood. I am 
 one that has known happier times— it may be 
 that I have seen happier and brighter and 
 better days, to use a phrase not much liked in 
 the fashionable world.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 151 
 
 'By Jove, I agree with him, and don't 
 like your a has been," and all that sort of 
 thing,' whispered Graves to Fanny, while Cla- 
 rice gave me a bow, or inclination of the head, 
 with a glance so expressive of inquiry or of 
 commiseration, that I added, though scarcely 
 knowing what I said — 
 
 i I am one of those who, when the blind 
 jade slips, or becomes freakish, have but to 
 resort to their wit or courage. Thank heaven, 
 which has given me a little of both, I am now 
 a man ready to face anything.' 
 
 4 A strange fellow, your friend,' said Airs. 
 Carysfort to Douglas. 
 
 ' But amid all the perils of your Caffre 
 career, you have been, I hope, laying up for 
 the future?' 
 
 1 Laying up — pardon my repetition of your 
 words, Miss Haywood; but I have long since 
 ceased to care about the future. I have 
 sought but to forget the present and the past. 
 Weak, and too often confiding, is he who 
 builds his hope upon the future — in this life, 
 at least.' 
 
 c Ya-as, by Jove !' assented the brilliant 
 Mr. Graves, eyeing me through his glass. c I 
 
152 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 have often made a false book on the Derby, 
 and been sold — doocidly, I have !' 
 
 4 You are quite a cynic, Mr. Kichard,' said 
 the major. 
 
 'I was not always so,' I replied, laughing. 
 
 1 Here's tiffin,' exclaimed our host, as a 
 Hottentot waiter, clad in a spotless white jacket 
 and ditto trousers, with a towel over one arm, 
 appeared, to intimate in his own peculiar jar- 
 gon, that luncheon awaited us in the next 
 room. J Spirit of the immortal Cliquot, oh, that 
 we might invoke thee ! but that would be a 
 vain task in the Halve Mone at Graham's 
 Town. Graves, give your arm to Mrs. Carys- 
 fort — Miss Haywood, Mr. Richard. Douglas 
 and I will bring up the rear.' 
 
 And in this order we left the room, I with 
 Clarice leaning on my arm, and Fanny smiling 
 covertly at my somewhat uncouth attire ! As. 
 I passed Douglas, he whispered — 
 
 ' Is this concealment fair ?' 
 
 'As yet, yes,' said I, 'for I wish to ob- 
 serve.' 
 
 Past relations between Fanny and Douglas 
 rendered them somewhat reserved, even con- 
 strained, in manner ; both were nervously and 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 153 
 
 scrupulously polite, but were evidently desirous 
 of having this chance meeting ended and over. 
 
 Carysfort, a finished gentleman and man of 
 the world, felt and saw the whole situation, 
 and thus hastened to relieve both by engaging 
 Douglas in a close conversation about the 
 chances and turns of the colonial war in which 
 we were involved, of the reinforcements that 
 were coming from Europe, and so forth, so 
 that I had Clarice almost entirely to myself, 
 for Fanny was obliged to occupy her time with 
 the vapid Percival Graves; but all the details 
 of that forenoon tiffin seemed a dream to me. 
 
 Ere long, we shall see how all this ended. 
 
CHAPTER. XIII. 
 
 Fanny — Mrs. Carysfort, I should say — might 
 well smile at my African trader's costume, 
 which seemed somewhat of the Robinson 
 Crusoe order, when contrasted with the well- 
 made blue sur touts, padded and frogged, and 
 the braided pantaloons of her husband and 
 Mr. Graves, or the handsome Highland uni- 
 form of Gerard Douglas, laced with gold, and 
 faced with spotless white ; but it was my safe 
 disguise for the time, though I was piqued 
 that her eyes failed to pierce it. 
 
 Strange indeed it would have been, if a 
 woman of Clarice Haywood's appearance, style, 
 and air of high breeding was without admirers, 
 and in the course of conversation, by the scraps 
 of raillery or quizzing that fell from her sister, 
 and admissions made by Graves, I learned that 
 she had many among the garrison and others 
 at Cape Town, while it was but too evident 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 155 
 
 to me that the young Guardsman was, after 
 his own fashion, devoted to her, and that his 
 attentions did not seem displeasing. 
 
 Her face, though pale, was, as I have said, 
 beautifully delicate and purely patrician, much 
 more so than that of the rollicking Fanny. Her 
 nose was straight, her hazel eyes soft and pen- 
 sive. 
 
 I sat by her side, but not as of old. I was 
 doing the little honours of the table as a 
 stranger, and conversing with her as a stranger, 
 but I scarcely knew about what. 
 
 My heart — yes, my soul — was in my eyes 
 when I looked into hers again, and as I spoke 
 to her, yet she did not seem to observe this 
 emotion, though my earnestness might have 
 excited her attention, if it did not puzzle her. 
 Oh, was I so utterly forgotten? Did neither 
 voice, nor eye, nor hearing, bring back a dreamy 
 memory of the past ? 
 
 Pique grew strong in my heart; yet how 
 or why, suggested reason, should she look for 
 me then, in that far away land ? I was utterly 
 unreasonable — I own it — and playing, perhaps, 
 with my own fate and hers ! 
 
 Oh, it was strange — passing strange ! She 
 
156 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 was there by my side, the same Clarice Hay- 
 wood who had reclined in my arms with her 
 head upon my heart ; she to whose kisses I had 
 clung, whose hands and hair I had caressed a 
 thousand times; and now she was looking at 
 me as coolly and as curiously as if I was some- 
 thing of African growth and culture — a Fingo, 
 a Hottentot or Griqua ! 
 
 She seemed to feel in me but the vague 
 and casual interest with which we view an ad- 
 venturous wanderer whose path in life lies far 
 apart from our own, and ever and anon stung 
 me unwittingly by the marked attention with 
 which she met the somewhat vapid remarks of 
 Mr. Percival Graves ; but then a gentleman so 
 well bred, so well oiled and bandolined as the 
 young Guardsman, was a scarce commodity so 
 far south of the Equator. 
 
 Tiffin, which was rather an early dinner 
 than a late luncheon, fairly over, and more 
 wine declined by me and Douglas, I saw by a 
 glance that Carysfort was about to proceed to 
 business by negotiating for the purchase of 
 my waggon and team for the accommodation 
 of the ladies, for whom — I had gathered in 
 the course of conversation — the exposure of 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 157 
 
 constant travelling on horseback was too 
 severe. I shrunk nervously from this trans- 
 action with him; and now, happily, his in- 
 tention was frustrated for the time by the 
 lively Fanny, who sprang from the table ex- 
 claiming — 
 
 ' Delightful ! here is actually a piano. Oh, 
 Clarice dear — you were always more of a 
 musician than I, play us something.' 
 
 I hastened to open the instrument, which, 
 though not exactly equal to one of Collard's 
 best repetition trichords, was a pretty fair 
 piano of an old London maker. Mr. Graves 
 led forward Clarice, who seated herself with a 
 smile to him and a bow to me ; and then her 
 pretty fingers ran rapidly and skilfully over 
 the ivory keys. 
 
 ' Miss Haywood, you sing, I am sure,' said 
 I softly. 
 
 ' I once did so — a little — a very little ; but 
 I have given up even that.' 
 
 4 Is it not a pity to forget so pleasing an 
 accomplishment? If I could but hear you 
 sing now you cannot know the delight it 
 would afford me, a poor wanderer in the 
 bush/ 
 
158 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 1 1 should be so glad to please you, sir ; 
 but what style of music do you prefer V 
 
 'Anything you please — I have no prefer- 
 ence.' 
 
 'Something foreign, Miss Haywood,' sug- 
 gested the aide-de-camp in his most insin- 
 uating tone. ' English songs are — aw— aw— 
 always, ya-as, such doocid twaddle.' 
 
 'Have you no decided favourite, Mr. 
 Pilchard?' she asked with a smile upward, 
 and without heeding her admirer. 
 
 ' I had, and have still.' 
 
 ' Name it, please.' 
 
 ' A little Scotch song.' 
 
 ' Scotch— oh, horror !' interrupted Graves, 
 twirling his bandolined moustache. 
 
 'And this song, Mr. Richard?' 
 
 ' Is called " Remembrance," and consists of 
 but four pretty verses,' said I, naming thus 
 ■one we had often sung together at Walcot 
 Tower in the days of our love. 
 
 She coloured for a moment, and then 
 grew pale again, as she asked, with eyes full 
 of inquiry, and even of tenderness — 
 
 'Is that your favourite song?' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Haywood.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 159 
 
 ' You have heard it sung in Scotland V 
 
 'Yes, and in the bonnie English border- 
 land, long, long ago. If you would but favour 
 me,' I implored. 
 
 4 1 shall try, though I have not sung it 
 for years. It was the favourite of a — dear 
 friend.' 
 
 My heart vibrated as she spoke, and still 
 more when she sung the plaintive little Scottish 
 song, which I may be pardoned inserting here, 
 as it is, perhaps, little known in England. 
 
 ' "While I behold the moon's pale beam, 
 Her light, perhaps, reflects on thee, 
 As, wandering near the silver stream, 
 Thy sad remembrance turns to me. 
 
 Ah, to forget ! The wish were vain. 
 
 Our souls were formed thus fond to be ; 
 ~No more I'll murmur and complain, 
 
 For thou, my love, wilt think on me. 
 
 Silent and sad I take my way, 
 
 As fortune deigns my bark to steer ; 
 
 Of hope a faint and distant ray 
 Our far-divided days shall cheer. 
 
 Ah, to return, to meet again ! 
 
 Dear, blissful thought ! with love and thee ! 
 No more I murmur and complain, 
 
 For thou, my love, wilt think on me.' 
 
160 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 Her voice was full of tender melancholy, 
 sad in cadence, sweet in tone. Past love and 
 perished hope, I thought, were there, and as 
 she warbled on by my side in the sinking sun- 
 set as of old — even as of old — and then, when 
 the song was concluded, continued to tinkle 
 the accompaniment, as if her thoughts, like 
 mine, were far away, and as that loved time 
 returned under the magic influence of her 
 voice — returned with all its tender associa- 
 tions — the dreary interval of time seemed like 
 a dream — bridged over — half oblivion, for 
 4 the past returned, the present fled.' 
 
 The quaint street of Graham's Town, with 
 its motley crowd of coloured people disap- 
 peared, and I seemed to see the green slopes 
 of the Northumbrian hills, the heather moors, 
 and the long, wavy line of the blue Cheviots, 
 that looked down upon our distant homes, and 
 a sigh of mingled bitterness and joy escaped me. 
 
 I pressed her to sing it to me once more, 
 and with great good nature she did so; then, 
 in the last verse, as almost mechanically and 
 unwittingly my voice mingled and blended 
 with her own, just as it was wont to do of old, 
 I saw her eyes lifted to mine with something 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 161 
 
 of wonder and inquiry, and that they were 
 moist — those dear, tender, and beautiful eyes. 
 
 Fool that I was not to declare myself then ! 
 
 1 And this is your choice ?' said she. 
 
 c Yes — an old remembered song, that was 
 sung to me often in happy, happy times, long, 
 long ago, Miss Havwood. Oh, how shall I 
 thank you? Often when alone in vast soli- 
 tudes, when the silence was broken only by 
 the howl of the jackal, the yell of a tiger-wolf, 
 or the trumpeting of a wild elephant in quest 
 of food or water, I have sung that song to 
 myself in my tent or waggon, with my eyes 
 full of tears and my heart swollen by tender 
 recollections. This I have done so frequently 
 that ere long poor Adrian Africander learned 
 to accompany me on his violin.' 
 
 'Aw — aw — 'pon my soul, you are quite 
 worn antic,' remarked Mr. Graves, pulling his 
 whiskers with a perplexed air, as he hated 
 this style of conversation. 
 
 The afternoon was lapsing into evening, 
 and the shadows of the houses were falling far 
 across the street, when Mynheer Hendrick 
 Leyden came to inform me that several mer- 
 chants with whom I was wont to transact 
 
 VOL. i. m 
 
162 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 business wished to see me, and I was com- 
 pelled to retire, leaving Clarice with Graves, 
 as I had no plea for remaining longer unin- 
 vited by Major Carysfort, who had looked on 
 at the singing with a cloudy or haughty and 
 somewhat disdainful air, which excited con- 
 siderable amusement in the mind of Douglas. 
 
 Major Carysfort, as if determined to re- 
 mind me that I was a mere Caffre trader, fol- 
 lowed me to the door of the room, and said — 
 
 ' By the way, Mr. Richard, about the pur- 
 chase of your waggon, which Captain Douglas 
 tells me you are anxious to dispose of — or to 
 let on hire, perhaps — as the ladies can proceed 
 no farther in the saddle, daily exposure being 
 too much for them.' 
 
 'The waggon, with all its appurtenances, 
 is quite at their disposal, Major Carysfort/ 
 said I, with some hauteur. 
 
 He gave a cold but well-bred smile, and 
 said — 
 
 c I have heard that you paid sixty pounds 
 for it, but are willing to part with it for much 
 less, and the team for a guinea a head.' 
 
 'I shall not dispose of either, Major Carys- 
 fort.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 163 
 
 ' Indeed ; nor let them on hire ?' 
 
 'Nor let them on hire,' I replied, with 
 positive anger. 'But if you will allow me, 
 sir, I shall have much pleasure in presenting 
 waggon, and team also, to Mrs. Carysfort and 
 her sister as a free gift.' 
 
 4 Eh ! What the deuce do you mean, sir?' 
 I cannot permit such an offer to be made, or 
 if made to be accepted. Do you know to 
 whom you are speaking? 7 
 
 'Perfectly, sir; to Major Carysfort, of the 
 Staff Corps.' 
 
 ' I wish your property, but must pay you 
 for it at a proper valuation. Your idea is 
 absurd!' 
 
 ' Then I shall commit the waggon to the 
 flames, and send my team to the slaughter- 
 house.' 
 
 ' Nay, nay ; I would rather accept — ' 
 
 ' As you please, sir,' said I haughtily. ' If 
 you are determined to pay money, hand it 
 over, not to me, but to the fund for the 
 widows and orphans of those who fall in this 
 war, the full value of waggon and team, and 
 they are yours !' 
 
 ' Give me your hand — egad, I like you — 
 
164 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and shall do this with pleasure/ said Carys- 
 fort, and we separated good friends, though 
 his too evident hauteur had keenly piqued me. 
 
 Douglas had the soldiers of his detachment 
 to look after, and I had much property to turn 
 into cash, and also to get my waggon pre- 
 pared for the reception of Clarice and her 
 sister, if they set forth on the morrow. 
 
 Ere I set about these matters I retired for 
 a time to reflect over the false position in 
 which I was perhaps placing myself. From 
 its secret pocket I drew forth the folded blue 
 neck-ribbon, and as I looked upon it, dreamer 
 that I was, the past returned again, even as it 
 returned when Clarice sung, to mingle with 
 the present, for on the morrow — how strange ! 
 — she would be the occupant and proprietress 
 of my old C afire waggon, which had been for 
 so long my ambulatory home. 
 
 Then I remembered with a pang of jealousy 
 that the moment I had risen to retire she had 
 addressed herself to Graves, and seemed almost 
 oblivious of my presence, for they were laugh- 
 ing merrily together. 
 
 As I had bade her adieu, I pressed un- 
 consciously the slender fingers of Clarice, so 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 165 
 
 that I bruised them with the rings that adorned 
 them — one of them a gift of mine in the dear 
 old time — and I hastened away with jealous 
 bitterness in my heart, for it was at this ap- 
 parent gaucherie of mine they too evidently 
 were laughing. 
 
 ' By heaven, Gerard/ said I, c she certainly 
 likes, if she does not actually love, that idiot 
 with the parted hair.' 
 
 c Time will soon show, if you permit it,' 
 was the significant reply of my friend. 
 
 Yet that night, while Douglas and Carys- 
 fort were playing an interminable game at 
 billiards on an execrable table in the inn, with 
 Percival Graves acting as their marker, I 
 lingered long in the street before the Halve 
 Mone, watching the light in a room which I 
 knew to be that of Clarice, and twice my 
 heart leaped when her slender shadow fell on 
 the white window-blind. 
 
 At last the light was extinguished; her 
 soft cheek, I knew, was pressing the pillow ; 
 and I turned slowly and sadly away. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 My interview with Clarice, her singing and 
 so forth, all savoured of romance and the 
 poetry of life; but for all that, I had to turn 
 to the more prosaic matter of transmuting 
 into cash all I possessed in the way of trade — 
 to wit, the contents of my waggon. To one 
 merchant in Graham's Town I disposed of all 
 my karosses or skin cloaks, which I had pro- 
 cured from the Bechuna tribe, and eighty of 
 these brought me two hundred and forty 
 pounds. My ostrich feathers I gave to an- 
 other, disposing of three hundredweight at six 
 shillings per pound. A third person took 
 from me all my ivory, and a bale of thirty- 
 guinea tiger- wolf skins. 
 
 By all this transference I realised a toler- 
 able amount, and spent a round sum in getting 
 the waggon prepared for the use of the ladies, 
 the cardell widened so that two might sleep 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 167 
 
 in it ; and the whole vehicle was made so 
 smart, that even Mr. Graves expressed his ap- 
 proval, by declaring that it was ' doocid snug, 
 awfully jolly, and all that sort of thing; but 
 then the demmed pwopwietaw gave himself 
 the airs of a dook.' 
 
 My most important transaction was yet to 
 be made, by selling the contents of my hunt- 
 ing pouch, as to have taken these to the actual 
 scene of strife would have been an act of folly; 
 and when I learned their value, I knew fully 
 the reason why Mark Graaff had tracked and 
 followed me so assiduously, and why, in that 
 recent personal conflict, he had made such a 
 furious snatch at the accoutrement in ques- 
 tion. 
 
 I possessed several diamonds which I had 
 procured among the Griquas, and there was 
 one which I had found sparkling at the bead- 
 and-button necklace of a CafFre whom I had 
 shot in our skirmish near Hell's Kloof, just 
 before Douglas with his party came to my 
 rescue. 
 
 A jeweller in Graham's Town filled me 
 with wonder and joy, by assuring me that this 
 one — the largest — weighed fully eighty- three 
 
168 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and a half carats ; that it was the finest water, 
 and worth more than twenty-five thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 So the diamond may well be, as Morgan 
 
 says 
 
 the emblem of fortitude !' 
 
 Another, which I had procured from a 
 Griqua doctor, or dealer in medicinal charms, 
 in exchange for a horse, three old Tower 
 muskets, and a Jew's-harp, he valued at four 
 thousand, and the rest I disposed of for a few 
 hundred pounds. Thus I found myself sud- 
 denly beyond all my expectations a rich man; 
 and it was singular enough that this, the last 
 of my many perilous expeditions as a Caffre 
 trader, should have been so eminently a suc- 
 cessful one, and by bills, the value of all I 
 possessed in Graham's Town was speedily 
 transmitted to my bankers at the Cape, 
 who were already the custodians of all my 
 past earnings, which, I have said, were not 
 small. 
 
 To Douglas only did I impart the secret 
 of my good fortune, and in the warmth of his 
 satisfaction and friendship the worthy fellow 
 almost danced with joy. 
 
 Would I not declare myself now to Clarice? 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 169 
 
 he asked; now, when I was rich enough to 
 offer her a comfortable, even a handsome 
 establishment, either here or in Europe ? 
 
 But I shook my head, and pointing to 
 where she was at that moment promenading 
 between two luxurious geranium hedges, con- 
 versing with Percival Graves — and with great 
 animation, too — begged to be left in that 
 matter to my own devices. 
 
 'Why then,' he next asked, ' should you 
 go to the front, a mere volunteer, to be 
 knocked on the head, perhaps, by some of 
 those Caffre fellows, after all you have under- 
 gone, too? 1 
 
 c I have the same reasons for going to the 
 front that I gave you in Hell's Kloof — my 
 occupation's gone.' 
 
 I But you don't require it now.' 
 
 I I like the excitement of the thing. My 
 life is my own, and none depend upon it; and 
 now I have the additional incentive of Miss 
 Haywood's presence to go with you to the 
 Amatolas.' 
 
 ' A most rash and foolish undertaking on 
 the part of Major Carysfort,' said Douglas, 
 with some irritation of manner. ' He should 
 
170 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 have left his women-folk at home, in the rear, 
 at Cape Town.' 
 
 Douglas had now placed himself and his 
 detachment under the orders of Carysfort, as 
 a senior officer, for his ' route' of march was 
 all wrong now, as to dates and distances, 
 owing to his guide, the Cape Mounted Kifle- 
 man, having misled and then deserted him — a 
 fortunate event for me. 
 
 Next day saw us all out of Graham's Town, 
 and again en route for the Amatolas, where the 
 chief strength of the rebel Caffres were in 
 position. 
 
 I had been elaborately, painfully thanked 
 by Clarice for my politeness in presenting her 
 and her sister with the use of ' my beautiful 
 waggon,' which they would and could only 
 accept the use of pro tern., and by the impul- 
 sive Mrs. Carysfort I had the dubious plea- 
 sure of hearing myself designated 'a dear, de- 
 lightful, rough diamond,' as she patted me 
 with two hands, and in the prettiest little 
 gauntlet gloves that ever came out of the 
 celebrated establishment of Houbigant, and 
 which fitted her taper fingers and slender 
 wrists to perfection. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 171 
 
 Eeclining on a couch of soft skins, Clarice 
 and her sister occupied the waggon with their 
 two Hottentot maids. The back curtains 
 were festooned, to enable them to see the 
 country and to converse with us, as we rode 
 behind on horseback — to wit, Douglas, Carys- 
 fort, Graves, and myself. 
 
 The Highlanders, with rifles slung, marched 
 at ease in the rear, and we had an advanced 
 and rear guard, consisting of five of the Cape 
 Corps, and in this order we departed, with 
 the bagpipes playing, and Adrian Africander 
 cracking his long jambok, and vociferating to 
 the team. 
 
 4 Schottlande, you verdom kind ! Creish- 
 man, my pooty ! Ach now, Schwartlande, wo 
 ho ! Acht, Englander, get on, you big paunch 
 — you lazy duivel !' 
 
 But after a short time, when the team 
 were all working together to his perfect satis- 
 faction, he relinquished the terrible jambok 
 for his violin, and perching himself on the 
 front of the waggon, above the two pagies, or 
 water casks, played with great taste a variety 
 of airs, which he had picked up in the bar- 
 racks at Cape Town and elsewhere. 
 
172 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 'We should be strong enough to fight our 
 way, if attacked by a small party/ observed 
 Carysfort, as we gradually ascended those 
 hills of schistus and sandstone that rise north 
 of Graham's Town. 
 
 ' Yes, if these black riflemen remain true, 
 which I very much doubt,' replied Douglas. 
 'We hear of them deserting on all hands 
 now.' 
 
 'Aw, aw, and these Cape Mounted Wifles,' 
 drawled Graves, with a look of decided un- 
 easiness; 'what kind of fawce are they?' 
 
 ' Hav'n't you seen them yet?' asked Doug- 
 las curtly. 
 
 ' Xo, not in a body.' 
 
 'Well, they're mostly natives, and are 
 really mounted riflemen, with a cross of the 
 dragoon, as they carry long, double-barrelled 
 rifles of bright steel. They have a spice of 
 the tirailleur, with a great deal of the savage 
 in their composition.' 
 
 'When weary of conversing, Miss Hay- 
 wood, you will find some English books on 
 the little shelf near you,' said I, after a pause. 
 1 A Caffre waggon is, you see, quite an empo- 
 rium.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 173 
 
 'Thanks, Mr. Richard — ah, Byron, Scott, 
 and Tennyson. Oh, his second volume opens 
 of itself,' she added, taking down the book; 
 ' opens at a place that seems to have been 
 often read. Did you make these marks in 
 pencil ?' 
 
 i Yes,' said I. 
 
 ' Then the passage is a favourite one ?' 
 
 l It is; but I like all that little poem on 
 " Love and Duty."' 
 
 Fanny looked up to listen, and Clarice 
 read the passage with a low and earnest 
 voice. 
 
 ' Should my shadow cross thy thoughts 
 Too sadly for their peace, so put it back 
 For calmer hours in memory's darkest hold ; 
 If unforgotten, should it cross thy dreams, 
 So might it come like one that looks content, 
 With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth, 
 And point thee forward to a distant light, 
 Or seem to lift a burthen from thy heart, 
 And leave it freer.' 
 
 She closed the book somewhat abruptly, 
 and let her small gloved hand drop by her 
 side, retaining still her place between the 
 leaves, and drooped her head as if lost in 
 thought. 
 
174 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 After a time her whole face lighted up 
 with a bright and beautiful expression, as 
 Adrian Africander, by the merest chance, but 
 by a singular coincidence, struck up the low, 
 soft air of ' Remembrance,' which he had 
 picked up from me, and Clarice sang a verse 
 or two of it, to the accompaniment of the 
 hideous old Hottentot, whose eyeballs leered, 
 and whose red tongue was lolled out over his 
 violin, in delight at her condescension, as he 
 deemed it. 
 
 Was she thinking, then, of the past, and 
 of me ? 
 
 Had we met, then, so singularly in that 
 far Cape Colony for good or for evil, for my 
 happiness or for misery? "Were those savage 
 Caffres towards whom we were proceeding to 
 be as the Parcse who were to weave out the 
 thread of our future ? 
 
 The desire to address her again, to look 
 into her eyes, and to touch her hand, came 
 strongly over me. I urged my horse nearer 
 to the waggon, for the purpose of saying 
 something — what I know not — but checked 
 the bridle, for I saw that, as she sang, her 
 eyes were fixed neither on vacancy nor on 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 175 
 
 me, but the face of Percival Graves, who was 
 smiling to her gaily ! 
 
 On this day I observed that Douglas was 
 very silent, and that he often loitered in 
 rear of the whole cavalcade. I suspected his . 
 thoughts were somewhat akin to my own, full 
 of jealousy and bitterness, and said something 
 to rouse him, but he shrugged his shoulders 
 and impatiently cast aside his cigar. 
 
 'Concealment is useless with you, Dick/ 
 said he. 'I would to Heaven that I had 
 never seen — at least, had never met Fanny 
 Haywood again, married as she is now to 
 another. I can't get over it — my old love for 
 her, I mean — and am in actual misery.' 
 
 ' Most unpleasant all this, Gerard, and we 
 shall be some days together yet.' 
 
 1 Yes, for we are fully seventy miles from 
 head- quarters.' 
 
 It was strange to see this tall, dark, and 
 splendid soldier, still the slave of Fanny 
 Carysfort's golden hair, lovely blush-rose 
 complexion, and little retrousse nose — the girl 
 who had fooled and jilted him. 
 
 ' Come, my friend, cheer up,' said I, scarcely 
 knowing what to say. 'What is done is done, 
 
176 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and regrets are unavailing now. What does 
 Byron say about "an honest friendship for a 
 married lady" ? ' 
 
 ' Don't jest with me, Dick Haddon,' replied 
 Douglas, flushing with positive anger; 'how 
 can you do so on such a subject, and at such 
 a time ?' 
 
 It was now my turn to colour. 
 
 'I am wrong. Forgive me, Gerard,' said I. 
 
 'Her sister too — the sister of Clarice!' he 
 continued reproachfully. 
 
 'I was wrong,' I repeated. 
 
 ' But does it not occur to you, Haddon — ' 
 
 ' Hush, I don't wish my name mentioned 
 yet.' 
 
 ' It is of that I would speak.' 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' Does it not occur to you that you have 
 played and are playing the spy upon her, by 
 this plan of accompanying her incog., but 
 doubting her, concealing your identity? If 
 you love her, as you say you do, you are 
 playing a strange and a perilous game, and 
 one that may compromise us both with Major 
 Carysfort.' 
 
 'I have good reason for all I do,' I replied, 
 
SHALL I WIN" HER ? 177 
 
 with an emotion of doubt and annoyance. 
 1 Hear how she is talking and laughing with 
 that insufferable fop.' 
 
 4 Would she do either if she thought you 
 were so near her?' 
 
 C I must be utterly forgotten, else my voice 
 — my face — ' 
 
 ' Here, and in that strange dress, bearded 
 and bewhiskered to the eyes, how could she 
 think of you? Dick, you are utterly unrea- 
 sonable, and I don't think that I should share 
 or keep your secret.' 
 
 1 It is noon now, gentlemen,' said the ma- 
 jor, who wore an ample white puggeree of 
 linen over his forage-cap and ears as a protec- 
 tion from the sun, ' and Mrs. Carysfort insists 
 that we shall have tiffin here, though our picnic 
 provisions are not exactly such as we should 
 get from Fortnum and Mason — no potted 
 fowls or Strasbourg pies ; but the spot is charm- 
 ing, and does credit to her taste. Captain 
 Douglas, halt your men, and order the Cape 
 escort to dismount, relax their girths, and 
 knee-halter all the cattle.' 
 
 'Ah, such a delicious place!' exclaimed 
 Fanny, springing out of the waggon, throwing 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 aside her hat, and displaying the loose masses 
 of her hair, which glittered like gold or yellow 
 floss silk in the sunlight. ' It is a veritable 
 Eden.' 
 
 'Poor Fanny,' said Carysfort, laughing, 
 'have all your dejeuners and kettledrums, 
 your dinners and parties al fresco, come to 
 this?' 
 
 'Yes, here we shall lunch, Carysfort,' said 
 Fanny, who, to Douglas's idea, seemed far too 
 happy, for she danced and skipped and pirou- 
 etted about while the Hottentot servants 
 unpacked the hampers. 'Here, on this very 
 spot.' 
 
 ' Stay, Mrs. Carysfort,' said I ; ' not exactly 
 here, but a little farther this way.' 
 
 'Why?' she asked categorically, for the 
 pretty Fanny was usually accustomed to have 
 her way in all things. 
 
 ' Do you see that little green mound be- 
 side the stream?' 
 
 ' A grave ! oh, can it be a grave ?' she 
 asked, while her colour changed. 
 
 'Yes, it is a grave.' 
 
 'Whose?' 
 
 ' A man whom, three years ago, ] saw shot 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 179 
 
 near this place, and whom I helped to bury 
 where he lies.' 
 
 ' Oh, heavens ! this will never do. Let us 
 move farther up the valley by all means ; but 
 you must tell us all about it,' she added, as 
 we selected another place about a hundred 
 yards distant, and then Adrian and Carysfort's 
 servant speedily spread a comfortable repast 
 before us, and the soldiers, black and white, 
 drawing a little away, piled their arms and 
 proceeded to cook their dinners, which proved 
 for the poor fellows a meal that was meagre 
 and humble enough. 
 
 'According to Bonaparte, a the first duty 
 of a soldier is to be able to make soup.'' Ac- 
 cording to our code,' continued Carysfort, sen- 
 tentiously and pompously, as he cut into a 
 cold pie, 'it was a maxim of the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, that his "first duty was obedience," 
 and that an officer must never make a mistake, 
 for in reality an error becomes a crime — a 
 crime for which there may be, perhaps, no 
 remedy. But, bravo! Here's Chateau Mar- 
 gaux and Hochheimer.' 
 
 4 A truce to your axioms and maxims, 
 dearest Chandos,' said Fanny impatiently, 'for 
 
180 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 I am dying of curiosity to hear from Mr. 
 Richard all about the man who lies in yonder 
 lonely grave.' 
 
 'What was he?' asked Clarice, 
 1 Some said a vampire — some that he was 
 a cannibal. He was I know not what, but a 
 terrible mystery to me.' 
 
 4 Oh, tell us all about him — for heaven's 
 sake do!' exclaimed Fanny; 'and, quick — fill 
 our glasses with hock.' 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 'Live to learn and learn to live' is a good 
 maxim (I began) ; bnt yon may live a very 
 long time ere yon will learn a story so wild and 
 strange as that I am abont to relate to you. 
 I have often contemplated sending the narra- 
 tive to the columns of the Cape Argus at St. 
 George's-street, Cape Town; but having a 
 constitutional timidity about figuring in print 
 under any circumstances, my tale is as yet 
 untold. 
 
 I am not without grave doubts as to whe- 
 ther I should tell it even now, for morbid and 
 sensational tales of terror and mystery are 
 often wisely concealed, to avoid ridicule on 
 one hand, and utter unbelief on the other. 
 Be this as it may, I shall relate the adven- 
 tures as they occurred to me. One thing is 
 certain : I shall excite your wonder. 
 
 Three years ago I was proceeding from 
 Graaff Eeynet on one of my usual trading 
 
182 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 expeditions, across the country towards the 
 Great Fish River, which traverses the state of 
 Somerset. On the night prior to my depar- 
 ture, a note was brought to me by Adrian 
 Africander, purporting to be from a certain 
 Mynheer Schalk van Neukerque, who had 
 been travelling among the adjacent mine dis- 
 tricts at Stellenbosch, proposing, for the sake 
 of companionship and mutual safety to accom- 
 pany me, as he was on his way to the state of 
 Victoria. 
 
 No one could give me any information 
 about who or what Mynheer van Neukerque 
 was; but the tenor of his note was pleasant, 
 and scrupulously polite, so I ventured a writ- 
 ten answer to the effect that I should be happy 
 to have the pleasure of his society, and to 
 share with him the accommodation of my wag- 
 gon tent, so far as our way lay together, and 
 concluded by hoping that he was well mounted 
 and well armed, as the Amaponda Canres were 
 apt to prove troublesome ; adding that I would 
 set forth on the morrow at sunrise. 
 
 Punctually to the time, just as Adrian, 
 with his usual amount of noise, vociferation, 
 and cracking of the jambok, was getting the 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 183 
 
 team in order, Mynheer van Neukerque rode 
 up, and greeted me by name. 
 
 He wore a reddish-coloured blouse, long 
 tiger-skin boots, and a very broad hat of white 
 felt, with an ostrich feather in the band. He 
 was mounted on a fine and active horse ; his 
 saddle was well accoutred with holster-pistols 
 and a small valise; he had also a double-bar- 
 relled gun and a long hunting-knife. 
 
 He was a man of powerful frame, but most 
 forbidding aspect, and his extreme ugliness 
 never grew familiar, but seemed to increase 
 upon acquaintanceship. His eyes were of a 
 pale, greenish gray — there were times when 
 they seemed undoubtedly green ; his large and 
 hairy ears were set high upon his head; his 
 brow was low, with prodigious frontal bones 
 and beetling eyebrows; and he had a cruel 
 red mouth, teeth sharp as those of a rat, and 
 always white and glistening. 
 
 His lips had even a peculiar wetness, as if 
 smeared with blood, and his face, which was 
 minus beard or whiskers, was utterly hairless 
 and had a singular whiteness and flabbiness — 
 an aspect that made me shudder; and once 
 when his hand touched mine on that morning 
 
184 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 as he accosted me, its cold sliminess, like that 
 of a fish freshly drawn from the water, made 
 me thrill with disgust and repugnance. 
 
 ' Good heavens !' thought I, c how rash I 
 have been ! How shall I ever be able to travel 
 with such an odious companion as this, so far 
 as we must go together — more than a hundred 
 and fifty English miles, and through such a 
 country as the Middle Plaats, and by the base 
 of the Great "Wmterberg, where the only deni- 
 zens are brindled gnoos and shaggy blue wilde- 
 beests !' 
 
 He never smiled; his normal expression 
 was solemn, grave, and even morose; but re- 
 cent calamity might account for that, as he 
 mentioned incidentally that he had just buried 
 a lovely young wife, who was the daughter of 
 a wealthy wine-grower in the district of Stel- 
 lenbosch, where the planters are of French 
 descent, and of a description far superior to 
 the Dutch boors, being all the descendants of 
 French Protestants, who fled hither after the 
 revocation of the Edict of Kantes. 
 
 ' She was, indeed, a beautiful girl,' he added, 
 ; but three months after their marriage she 
 had died of a rapid decline.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 185 
 
 Considering his remarkably cadaverous 
 and terribly repugnant aspect, I did not ex- 
 perience much surprise on hearing this. 
 
 He seemed anxious to place speedily as 
 great a distance as possible between himself 
 and Stellenbosch, hinting that he had dis- 
 pleased his friends, somehow; and thus, in his 
 impatience, for some miles after we left GraafF 
 Reynet he kept ahead of my waggon, nor did 
 he afflict me with close companionship until 
 the peaks of the Snow Bergen, and those 
 enormous buttresses of rock which rose from 
 the plains of Karvo had sunk behind us in the 
 distance, and we were approaching the Middle 
 Plaats in Somerset, where I proposed to halt 
 for the night. 
 
 My pale, green-eyed, and red-lipped com- 
 panion sat half in shadow, with his broad hat 
 drawn well over his face, silent, and very un- 
 sociably drinking spring water, though I had 
 produced a good bottle of Drakenstein wine ; 
 and he further refused, almost impatiently, to 
 share a well- cooked partridge and an ostrich 
 egg^ which Adrian had roasted to a turn. 
 
 It seemed to me that this morose person- 
 age was a prey to incurable disquiet ; but whe- 
 
186 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ther it was the result of remorse for a crime, 
 ambition marred, love unrequited, grief for his 
 late wife, from all these together, or that his 
 temperament was morbid beyond cure, I knew 
 not and cared not, only that I wished him a 
 hundred miles away from me. 
 
 His appearance and general bearing crushed 
 even the negro vivacity of my Hottentot fol- 
 lowers. Thus Adrian did not produce his 
 violin as usual to entertain me; but soon re- 
 tired to his roost under the waggon, where he 
 and my two other attendants shared a couch 
 of skins. 
 
 When I did succeed in luring Mynheer 
 Schalk van Neukerque into conversation, he 
 always contrived to turn it to the darkest and 
 gloomiest of subjects, and then occasionally 
 his manner would warm up, and a light would 
 gleam in his eyes, but it was a horrid and re- 
 pulsive one, such as the gaseous flame that 
 might flicker over a grave. 
 
 He seemed full of quaint and terrible con- 
 ceits, and was fond of speaking of metempsy- 
 chosis — the transmigration of souls from body 
 to body ; of the transfusion of blood from the 
 veins of one person to those of another; of the 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 187 
 
 stream of young life into the arteries of the 
 old, who might thereby have their youth and 
 vigour renewed, and so forth. 
 
 Once he asserted that the blood, if drawn 
 from the human body, and kept hermetically 
 sealed according to a certain chymical process, 
 of which he alone was cognisant, was infused 
 in the veins of the person from whom it had 
 been extracted, even supposing that person 
 had been dead and embalmed for three hun- 
 dred years, it would restore him to life again 
 — to life and strength. 
 
 His style of conversation was a veritable 
 nightmare, and like one enduring a nightmare 
 I listened to him. 
 
 His talk was of nothing but man eaters and 
 vampires of whom there were authentic ac- 
 counts, and it was in vain that I tried to 
 change the subject. 
 
 So passed my first night in the pine forest 
 with Schalk van Neukerque. 
 
 I am not a dreamer, but rather a sound 
 sleeper. Constant exposure in the open air, 
 rough exercise, hunting, shooting, and the 
 perils contingent to such a life as mine, always 
 ensure me a sound repose ; but on this night, 
 
188 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 in the cardell of my waggon, more than once, 
 in a kind of vision or oppressive dream, from 
 which I could not waken, I seemed to see the 
 white and livid face and the gleaming eyes of 
 my new companion close to mine. I seemed 
 to feel his horrid and fetid breath upon my 
 cheek, and the touch of his cold, slimy fingers 
 on my throat. 
 
 Once this terror became so palpable that I 
 started up with a shudder, to find my watch- 
 dogs, which were chained to the waggon- wheels, 
 barking furiously, and as I sought my revolver 
 pistols, I could have sworn that in the star- 
 light the bulky figure of Neukerque vanished 
 from the back part of the vehicle. 
 
 I looked out. He was asleep, or feigning 
 to be so, near the Hottentots on the sward. 
 Was he ubiquitous? Could he be in two places 
 at once? 
 
 In the morning I resolved to spare no 
 effort to get on with my journey, and to be 
 rid of him as soon as I could conveniently do 
 so, for I had a horror of him such as I cannot 
 describe. But all that clay we proceeded 
 slowly. Whether it was the result of the dis- 
 turbed night I had passed, a disgust of my 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 189 
 
 companion, whom even our dogs eyed askance, 
 and at whom they growled uneasily — whether 
 it was the hot wind which comes from the 
 great Desert of Kalihari (the Sahara of South 
 Africa), which feels as if at times it comes 
 from the mouth of a furnace, and which was 
 then beginning to blow — or whether it was 
 the effect of all together, I know not, but I 
 had become feverish, languid, and nervously 
 unwell. 
 
 Then I grew worse, and when we reached 
 the town of Cradock I was too ill to proceed 
 farther. This place is a pretty little settle- 
 ment on the eastern bank of the Great Fish 
 River. It is surrounded by apple groves and 
 beautiful gardens, but bounded on every side 
 by bare and rocky mountains that overlook 
 the wooded banks of the St ocken storm River. 
 The houses are all well built, and in the taste- 
 ful styles peculiar to England and Holland, 
 though among the inhabitants there is a 
 goodly sprinkling of half-castes, woolly -headed 
 Hottentots, and sturdy Fingoes. 
 
 I put up at an inn, and sent for the only 
 medical man of whom the place could boast — 
 a Dutch doctor, named Hans Bruine Kasteel. 
 
190 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 A fever had seized me, and I soon became 
 delirious; but before this crisis came I re- 
 member urging Mynheer van Neukerque by 
 all means to continue his journey without me. 
 But it would appear that, instead of doing so, 
 he being amply supplied with gold, took up 
 his quarters at the house of a Dutch boor 
 named Burgherhout, to await, as he said, my 
 recovery, though subsequent events proved 
 that it was more probably my demise. 
 
 So it was in vain that I sought to free my- 
 self from this Frankenstein — this vile incubus 
 that haunted me, and with whom I connected 
 the fact of my illness. Some weeks elapsed 
 before I became convalescent ; but before that 
 turn came, my unpleasant fellow traveller, who 
 had frequently come to inquire for me, had 
 disappeared suddenly from Cradock, and from 
 Dr. Bruine Kasteel I heard a revelation of the 
 singular pranks he had been playing in the 
 town during the two months I had been ill, 
 for such was the term of my attack ; and as 
 one in a strange dream I listened to the nar- 
 rative of the doctor, with my eyes fixed lan- 
 guidly on the long line of stately peach trees 
 that shade the principal street of Cradock. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 191 
 
 While Neukerque was residing with Bur- 
 gherhout, some suspicious circumstances caused 
 him to be placed under a species of surveil- 
 lance by certain inhabitants of the town and 
 by the local authorities. It was averred that 
 he seldom left his lodgings until nightfall, and 
 then, that he always proceeded in one direc- 
 tion, towards the burying ground which ad j 
 joined the church, where he disappeared till 
 the first hours of the early morning, when he 
 might be seen returning with stealthy steps to 
 the house of Baas Burgh erhout. 
 
 The quiet and industrious Dutch boors 
 and burghers muttered of the proceedings to 
 each other. 
 
 ' Die de noot wil eeten moetze kraaken,' 
 said they, which in English means, 4 Whoso 
 likes the nut well must crack the shell.' 
 
 So some of the English inhabitants resolved 
 to probe the mystery attending these move- 
 ments — these untimeous peregrinations which 
 took place night after night. 
 
 A few armed Englishmen kept watch 
 within the churchyard, but nothing unusual 
 was found save the turfs dislodged on one or 
 two new-made graves, and nothing was seen 
 
192 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 of Neukerque, who had probably become 
 aware that he was watched, for his nocturnal 
 perambulations ceased. 
 
 Finding that his steps were dogged one 
 night, he turned furiously on those who fol- 
 lowed him, and a rough conflict ensued with 
 sticks and batons. He defended himself with 
 great skill and vigour. Two or three fell be- 
 neath his blows as if struck down by a sledge- 
 hammer; but the rest, who laid violent hands 
 on his person, and attempted to grasp or 
 arrest him, were compelled to relinquish the 
 attempt, because, as they averred, of the 
 dreadful odour that pervaded his clothes and 
 hair, seeming to issue from the pores of his 
 skin. 
 
 What did it resemble? None could say, 
 save that it was as the very essence of utter 
 corruption; so he escaped them, and reached 
 the house of Burgherhout. 
 
 Liza, a niece of the latter, who had been 
 the object of Neukerque's attentions, and on 
 whom he had bestowed many valuable pre- 
 sents — for, as I have said, his pockets were 
 well lined with cash — from being a pretty and 
 blooming girl, with a fair skin and soft Dutch 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 193 
 
 complexion, became pale as a lily, drooping 
 and fading away, to the great grief and exas- 
 peration of her lover, a sturdy young korn- 
 boor, who urged the expulsion of this ob- 
 noxious Mynheer van Neukerque from the 
 house. But Baas Burgherhout was avaricious, 
 and loth to lose a wealthy lodger, though Liza 
 distinctly stated that she connected her illness 
 with his presence or vicinity. 
 
 She had frightful dreams or nightmares, 
 in which she imagined that the livid face of 
 Neukerque was in unpleasant proximity to 
 her own — that she felt his odious breath 
 upon her cheek and his hands upon her 
 throat. 
 
 The lover now became inspired with jea- 
 lousy as well as terror, and meeting Neu- 
 kerque when he was walking alone — being 
 without companions or friends, he was never 
 otherwise — he demanded, with threats of death, 
 that he (Neukerque) should quit the settle- 
 ment of Cradock, to return to whence he had 
 come, or proceed to where he was going — at 
 least, that he should never again enter the 
 house of Baas Burgherhout. 
 
 Neukerque became filled with a terrible 
 
 vol. i. o 
 
194 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 fury at this threat, his pale face became more 
 pallid, his hair bristled up, his eyes filled with 
 a green and baleful light, and his sharp teeth 
 were clenched as he drew a knife from his 
 belt. 
 
 The korn-boor became alarmed, and fired 
 a revolver straight at the head of Neukerque, 
 who eluded the ball, sprang upon him with 
 a yell, and plunged the knife into his 
 throat. 
 
 The young boor fell dying at the feet of 
 his assailant. The report of the pistol brought 
 many persons, English, Dutch, Hottentots, 
 and Fingoes, to the spot ; but oblivious of the 
 gathering crowd, the terrible Schalk van Neu- 
 kerque, besotted by his all-powerful mania, 
 was found with his face bent over the dying 
 boor, sucking the flowing blood from the 
 wound in his throat. 
 
 'A rope and hang him — a rope — a rope!' 
 cried the Englishmen. 
 
 ' Der teufel's broder! — up with him!' 
 added the Dutch, and though some more 
 reasonable than others asserted that ' he must 
 be mad,' a hundred resolute hands were laid 
 on the vampire, for such they now supposed 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 195 
 
 him to be, else whence those nightly visits to 
 the churchyard, and why this horrible thirst 
 for blood ? 
 
 In vain did he struggle with herculean 
 force, in vain did he shout in English and in 
 Dutch that he had been fired upon, and had 
 merely used his knife in self-defence. The 
 lithe and active Eingoes delighted in the work 
 of destruction, and in a twinkling a noosed 
 rope, arranged by the hands of Adrian Afri- 
 cander, was dangling from the branch of a 
 pine tree, and the murderer was strung up 
 amid the execrations of the Europeans, and 
 the mad yells and capers of the Hottentots 
 and Fingoes, who performed a species of war- 
 dance around the impromptu gallows during 
 his death agonies, which were protracted and 
 terrible. 
 
 At last they were over, and the body 
 swung motionless in the wind; but after a 
 time it was cut down, permitted to drop into 
 a cart, by which it was conveyed to a lonely 
 place by the side of the common highway for 
 interment after nightfall. 
 
 The cart was placed in a shed at the back 
 of Dr. Kast eel's mansion, and the door was 
 
196 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 locked to prevent the vulgar from gratifying 
 their morbid curiosity by surveying the hide- 
 ous remains of this strange being;, who had 
 perished by a process so summary. 
 
 Night fell, and the people began to gather 
 as the hour for the uncouth funeral ap- 
 proached; but, lo! the door of the shed was 
 forced open — not unlocked, but torn by vio- 
 lence from its hinges. The cart stood within, 
 but it was empty; and of Schalk van Neu- 
 kerque there remained no trace, save the 
 severed rope which had strangled him. 
 
 The body was gone ! 
 
 But from that day, save that she sorrowed 
 for her lover, the niece of Burgherhout re- 
 covered her health and bloom, and was trou- 
 bled by hideous dreams no more. 
 
 Such was the strange and weird story told 
 me by Dr. Bruine Kasteel, and I now remem- 
 bered how Schalk had mentioned to me inci- 
 dentally that his wife, the girl of Stellenbosch, 
 had died of a decline after three months of 
 matrimony, so the Fraulein Liza had had a 
 narrow escape. 
 
 ' But a vampire, doctor — a bloodsucker — a 
 ghoul !' I exclaimed. ' Can we believe in 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 197 
 
 such a thing in the nineteenth century — this 
 age of steam, and gas, and telegraphy ?' 
 
 1 Der teufel!' replied the corpulent Dutch- 
 man, shrugging his shoulders. ' It is strange, 
 mynheer; but vat are ve to subbose?' 
 
 1 And the body, you say, was gone?' 
 
 i Vanished, mynheer.' 
 
 c He could not have been properly hanged. 
 Drawn up from the ground in the manner you 
 describe, he must have been only partially 
 suffocated, and not strangled.' 
 
 Subsequent events led me to conclude 
 that this must have been the case, though the 
 little Dutch doctor asserted that when he saw 
 the body of Neukerque, that personage was as 
 dead as a red herring. Some there were in 
 Cradock who asserted that by an exertion of 
 his medical skill the doctor had restored ani- 
 mation, and enabled the culprit to escape ; but 
 many more were assured that Satan had come 
 in propria 'persona and carried him bodily 
 away. 
 
 I recovered, and to the great regret of 
 Africander, who in his time of leisure had be- 
 come enamoured of a Hottentot Venus at 
 Cradock, was able to set forth in three or four 
 
198 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 days after these events had convulsed that se- 
 questered locality, and the evening of a fine 
 day in May saw my waggon and team passing 
 through the pleasant country near Riebeck, in 
 Albany, and not many miles from Graham's 
 Town, when an armed horseman, with a broad 
 hat and ostrich feather, overtook us, or sud- 
 denly appeared to issue from a narrow kloof 
 in the rocks, and a yell of astonishment and 
 terror escaped Adrian Africander, who became 
 absolutely peagreen on recognising the person 
 at whose execution he had played so promi- 
 nent a part — Schalk van Neukerque. 
 
 Utter bewilderment almost overcame the 
 emotion of disgust on my part, when, with the 
 nearest and only approach to a smile I had 
 ever seen on his white, flabby face, he cantered 
 his horse up to mine, and checking the reins, 
 bade me good day, expressed his pleasure to 
 see me once more able for the road, and like- 
 wise i his satisfaction at having met me, as we 
 should now continue our journey pleasantly 
 together;' adding, that 'he would thank me 
 for a light to his pipe, as his box of matches 
 had been lost during the scuffle which forced 
 him to leave that filthy town called Cradock/ 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 199 
 
 The ; scuffle' so gently referred to was no- 
 thing less than his being lynched by an in- 
 furiated mob ! 
 
 I handed him a match in silence, and lei- 
 surely he proceeded to light his meerschaum. 
 Greet him by words I could not, for there was 
 something in the expression of his eye that 
 made even me, though daily encountering and 
 slaying the most ferocious denizens of these 
 wild forests, shrink and cower in heart ; and 
 now, when I saw him again, the thought of all 
 that Doctor Bruine Kasteel had told me, and 
 of his being hanged till dead — dead, and yet 
 alive again! — rushed upon me, and I felt as 
 one in a hideous dream. I felt also the neces- 
 sity there was for dissembling or concealing 
 all this, as I was yet too weak to risk a quar- 
 rel with a man who possessed alike the strength 
 of a Hercules and the spirit of a fiend. 
 
 However, I resolved, come what might, 
 not to spend another night with him in the 
 forest ; but to make straight for the farm and 
 kraal of Speke van Bommel, a Dutch boor, or 
 farmer, of my acquaintance, whose thrifty wife 
 was the sister of Hendrick Leyden, of the 
 Halve Mone, and who was a man of wealth 
 
200 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and influence in the colony, and the field- 
 cornet of his district. 
 
 The sun was sinking behind the peaks of 
 the Zum Bergen when we drew up in the 
 yard of his kraal, or homestead, which was 
 surrounded by hedges of the prickly pear for 
 defence, and by others of the geranium bush 
 for ornament. 
 
 Speke was long in coming forth to greet 
 us, and when he did so his once rosy and 
 rubicund face was pale and his eyes full of 
 grief. His whole air betokened deep dejec- 
 tion, and in a very broken voice he bade me 
 welcome, and accorded the usual permission 
 to 'outspan the oxen,' adding — 
 
 ' Sorrow has come upon my household, 
 Mynheer Eichard ; my daughter Gertrude, 
 my darling little Trtiey, who has so lately 
 come home to me, died two days ago, and I 
 am a heartbroken karle.' 
 
 I expressed my condolence, adding — 
 
 4 Bear it with fortitude and Christian re- 
 signation, my good friend.' 
 
 c Oh, talk not to me of resignation,' he re- 
 plied bitterly. ' You never had children, 
 and know not what it is to lose them. Gott 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 201 
 
 in himmel forgive me ! but I feel only the dull, 
 dogged despair of the heathen.' 
 
 I was loth to intrude upon him at such a 
 time, especially with a companion so repulsive 
 as Schalk van Neukerque ; but as no other 
 kraal was near, I was still more loth now 
 to pass the night as usual in my waggon or 
 tent. 
 
 He ushered us into the dining room or 
 saloon of the house, the furniture of which 
 was all quaint and old-fashioned. There were 
 massive ebony Dutch cabinets, their shelves 
 filled with cut-glass decanters and old blue 
 and gold edged china, of Tournay manufacture, 
 a ponderous sideboard, and under it a gigantic 
 cellaret, that might have passed for a maho- 
 gany sarcophagus, so much did it resemble a 
 tomb. Above these, as a trophy, hung the 
 wooden shield, the spear, and sword of a 
 Caffre chief, taken in some skirmish with the 
 thievish Amaponda savages. 
 
 The stone chimney, with its lining of old 
 Dutch blue tiles, representing skaters on the 
 Maese and Zuyder Zee, was without fire, but 
 was filled by a large vase of artificial flowers, 
 and garlands of the same, ' the work of my 
 
202 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 poor dead Trliey,' as Bommel said, were hung 
 across it. Everything was in the old Dutch 
 taste, for Speke had been a native of the 
 Boinmeler Waard, an isle of Guelderland, 
 formed by the Waal and Maese. 
 
 Birdcages with the dead girl's pets were 
 hung about the room. They set up a faint 
 rejoicing as we entered, and scraped their 
 beaks against the wire in vain, for now the 
 hands that fed them were cold and still. 
 
 We had come at a gloomy time ; but Yan 
 Bommel was a friend with whom I had fre- 
 quently traded, and he pressed us to stay till 
 the funeral was over on the following day ; 
 and somewhat morbidly, as I thought, he led 
 us into the chamber of death, where the dead 
 girl lay in her coffin, with her last favourite, 
 a bright-eyed and tiny fawn of the springbok 
 gazelle, nestling near it. 
 
 The girl seemed to have been fair and 
 handsome, smooth-skinned and flaxen-haired, 
 in her eighteenth year, and had just returned 
 from an English educational institution at 
 Cape Town, where she had acquired more 
 accomplishments than usually fall to the lot 
 of a Dutch boor's wife or daughter. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 203 
 
 On turning to leave the room, I was struck 
 by the singular change that had come over 
 the face and bearing of Mynheer van Neu- 
 kerque. His eyes glittered with a terrible 
 expression, a species of lambent light appeared 
 to fill them; his blood-red lips and nostrils 
 were quivering, and his sharp teeth were 
 fiercely set or clenched. 
 
 Perceiving that I regarded him with won- 
 der and an extreme loathing that was undis- 
 guised, he suddenly answered that his emotion 
 was caused by the sight of the dead girl (as I 
 have no doubt it was), for, he continued, in 
 her he recognised one whom he had adored 
 in secret at Cape Town, and whom (though 
 in the interim he had wedded and lost the 
 girl at Stellenbosch) he loved in life as he 
 now did in death, with much more to the 
 same purpose, and he earnestly sought per- 
 mission to join us in sitting beside the body 
 overnight, which most unfortunately was 
 granted. 
 
 I had an intuitive suspicion that some- 
 thing horrible was contemplated by him, and 
 resolved to watch well ; but as the night wore 
 on I became languid and weary, for my recent 
 
204 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 illness had greatly impaired my strength and 
 power of endurance. 
 
 The mother of Gertrude was in delicate 
 health, and so she retired to her couch to 
 weep alone. Speke van Bommel, his son Jan, 
 a sturdy young boor, Schalk and myself, sat 
 in the room where the dead girl lay, smoking 
 and drinking in silence that was only broken 
 by the ticking of a large Dutch clock in the 
 panelled corridor without. 
 
 The atmosphere was close and oppressive, 
 and the hours of the night stole gloomily and 
 monotonously on. The utter silence seemed 
 to me 'like the stillness that precedes death 
 and horror.' I have been on many a dismal 
 night watch, but none like that oppressive 
 night in the dead girl's chamber. 
 
 Weary with grief and past watching, Van 
 Bommel and his son Jan, a phlegmatic boor, 
 bloated with beer and stupefied by tobacco, 
 dozed off into slumber from which I failed to 
 rouse them. Pretending to be brooding over 
 his grief, Schalk sat opposite to me in a semi- 
 lethargic state ; his green eyes were watching 
 me stealthily. There had been a sombre gloom 
 over his white, cadaverous visage; but when 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 205 
 
 the father and son were both asleep, he sud- 
 denly became talkative, though in a low tone, 
 and urged me to join him in sharing the con- 
 tents of the last bottle of Schiedam. 
 
 I was weak enough to accede to his pro- 
 position, and soon after fell into a profound 
 slumber on a zebra skin that was spread upon 
 the floor. 
 
 Next morning, when with a sudden start 
 I awoke, stiff and chilled, the sun was stream- 
 ing gaily into the bedroom, and the silver 
 mountings of Gertrude's coffin were glittering 
 in its light. Van Bommel and his son yet 
 slept heavily; but opposite to me was seated 
 Yan Neukerque in exactly the same position 
 in which I had last seen him, with the same 
 ghostly and stealthy expression in his eyes; 
 but I observed that his blouse was wet, as if 
 with rain or dew. 
 
 I inquired if he had been out, but he gave 
 me a ferocious glance, and said 'No;' and 
 having neither object nor interest to prompt 
 further inquiry, I dropped the subject. 
 
 The noon stole on, and the arrangements 
 for the interment proceeded. Friends and 
 neighbours arrived in carts or on horseback, 
 
206 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and the cortege set out from the kraal for 
 the burying-ground, near a sequestered little 
 Dutch chapel. All present, in turn, bore the 
 dead girl, by fours or sixes, on a bier; but 
 when the turn of Neukerque came his agita- 
 tion became excessive, and just as we were 
 entering the pathway that traversed a wood, 
 he stumbled, and then a strange rattling sound 
 was heard within the coffin. 
 
 A rattling sound ! 
 
 We all changed colour, and pausing, gazed 
 at each other. Some were so alarmed that 
 they were about to fly; but Speke van Bommel 
 sternly commanded all to stay, and the coffin 
 was deposited by the side of the road. The 
 lid was instantly removed, and we found 
 within it, not the dead body of the fair-haired 
 Gertrude, but in lieu thereof four or Hve large 
 stones ! 
 
 The old man fainted on making a dis- 
 covery so startling, and his son was nearly 
 in a similar condition. We gathered round 
 them, and inquiries were made as to who had 
 watched the dead overnight, and who of them 
 had waked or slept, for in the night must this 
 act of sacrilege have been done ; and now I 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 207 
 
 perceived that, taking advantage of the gene- 
 ral confusion and consternation, Mynheer van 
 Neukerque had disappeared. 
 
 In hot haste I stated all I knew concern- 
 ing him, the terrible narration told me by Dr. 
 Bruine Kasteel, adding how he had been so 
 strangely resuscitated, how he had thrust his 
 odious society upon me, and that he alone of 
 all the four had remained awake throughout 
 the preceding night, and that he must have 
 been abroad for some purpose, as in the morn- 
 ing his garments were wet and his boots 
 muddy, which had not been the case on the 
 preceding evening. 
 
 Shouts of dismay, stern threats in English 
 and Dutch, with loud execrations, followed 
 my tale. 
 
 'Ach, Gott in himmel!' cried Speke van 
 Bommel. c Yiele w r oorden vullen geen sac ! 
 Search and find him !' 
 
 Then the whole funeral party separated 
 on this errand in various directions. 
 
 He was speedily discovered in the act of 
 issuing, mounted on his own horse, from the 
 deserted kraal. A band of sturdy boors flung 
 themselves with fury upon him. He was 
 
208 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 dragged from the saddle, and though he made 
 a terrible resistance, knocking them over like 
 ninepins, he was secured at last, and bound 
 with cords ; but more than one of the captors 
 shrank back in disgust and bewilderment at 
 the dreadful odour that came from the pores 
 of his skin. 
 
 Yan Bommel placed a pistol to his head, 
 and demanded, in grief and rage, the body of 
 his daughter. 
 
 After a time, during which he remained 
 silent and sullen, finding that he was menaced 
 by a sudden and speedy death, he confessed 
 that so soon as I had fallen asleep he had 
 opened the coffin, taken the body of the dead 
 girl to a little poort between the mountains, 
 and covered it up with leaves and branches — 
 that he had placed the stones in the coffin, 
 and had just succeeded in screwing down the 
 lid when I awoke. 
 
 'Why did you dare to do this?' asked 
 one. 
 
 1 What was your purpose ?' demanded 
 many voices. 
 
 He coolly averred that his great love for 
 Gertrude would not permit him to have her 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 209 
 
 hidden from his sight so suddenly in the cruel 
 grave, and that he had concealed her in the 
 place mentioned that he might gaze upon her 
 form — that form so loved and tender — for a 
 few days longer. 
 
 After the history I had given of Schalk 
 van Neukerque's past exploits, of course, no 
 one present believed in this. The horror of 
 him grew deeper; but under the terror of 
 death he conducted us to this little place 
 near the rivulet — this little valley which Mrs. 
 Carysfort admires so much — and here we 
 found the body of Gertrude, concealed, as he 
 had said, under a pile of leaves, branches, and 
 tufts of that beautiful heath which stows in 
 
 o 
 
 such luxuriance through all the colony, and, 
 happily, she was untouched by hyenas, wild 
 cats, or jackals. 
 
 That Schalk's purpose had been the in- 
 dulgence of his terrible mania we could not 
 doubt, and on beholding the remains of his 
 daughter, though untouched and undesecrated, 
 lying uncoffined on the dewy sward, the rage 
 and grief of Yan Bommel became unconquer- 
 able. He shot Xeukerque through the head, 
 and he fell dead at our feet. 
 
 vol. i. p 
 
210 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 'Da vogels (the vultures) may do the 
 rest,' cried the unrelenting Dutchman, giving 
 the body a kick, and replacing the pistol in 
 his belt; yet he was by nature a quiet and 
 Bible-loving Lutheran, who thought nothing 
 of travelling eighty or a hundred miles four 
 times yearly to attend the nacht-maal, or sa- 
 cramental supper of his Church. 
 
 ' He is a skellum — a neuxel — a rascal — a 
 humbug,' growled Adrian Africander. 'I al- 
 ways felt a cold and shivery sensation come 
 ober my bones wen dat white duivel come 
 near me. Ach, Gott ! Off vit his head, Myn- 
 heer van Bommel !' 
 
 And with savage energy the Hottentot de- 
 capitated the corpse with an axe. 
 
 We hastily buried Neukerque where yon- 
 der green mound marks his grave. His head 
 was placed at his feet, and as we dropped the 
 body into the uncouth hole, and proceeded to 
 cover it up, we were surprised to find that 
 the blood had been oozing blackly from several 
 other wounds, 'the least a death to nature' — 
 old ones which had burst open afresh, show- 
 ing that he had been involved in many pre- 
 vious and desperate encounters. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 211 
 
 To add to the strangeness of the story, 
 so rapidly did decomposition set in, that his 
 remains were scarcely recognisable within ten 
 minutes after he fell beneath the bullet of 
 Speke van Bommel. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ' A dreadful story!' said Clarice, when I con- 
 cluded. 
 
 C A horror,' exclaimed her sister, with 
 clasped hands, as she glanced shudderingly 
 towards the now grassy monnd which marked 
 where Schalk van Neukerque lay in that 
 lonely place. 
 
 4 Was not the fellow mad ?' asked the ma- 
 jor, with a doubting and supercilious expres- 
 sion of face, as he tipped the ashes from his 
 cigar with a jewelled finger. 
 
 ' It was a dreadful mania, certainly,' said I. 
 
 c Such a taste for food, by Jove !' com- 
 mented Mr. Graves, in his most languid style. 
 i Spirit of Soyer, it was, indeed, a singular 
 maniaw.' 
 
 i Now for one more postprandial weed, 
 and then, major, I suppose we must march,' 
 saicl Douglas, glancing at the group of his 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? , 213 
 
 men, who were buckling on each other's knap- 
 sacks. 
 
 During the time I had been relating the 
 foregoing story the sense of Clarice's presence 
 exercised a strange and confusing influence 
 on my thoughts. 
 
 Did no sense of my presence steal over her? 
 
 It seemed to me — but that might have 
 been fancy — that as my history of Neukerque's 
 adventures proceeded the tender brown eyes 
 of Clarice were fixed on my face with a 
 sorrowful interest or wonder. Did my voice 
 begin to wake a memory — to stir a chord in 
 her heart? 
 
 I prayed heaven that it might be so ; and 
 yet, triner that I was, I permitted Graves 
 constantly to take at her side the place which 
 should have been mine; and even now, while 
 these thoughts were recurring to me, he was 
 tying her veil round her hat, and whispering 
 in her ear ridicule, perhaps, of the story I had 
 told them. 
 
 ' Incredible as your story may seem, Mr. 
 Richard,' said she, turning to me suddenly, 
 and thus corroborating the suspicion, c it is 
 not without a comparatively recent parallel 
 
214 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 case. In a work entitled Evenings with Cam- 
 baceres, Prince of Parma, and President of the 
 Criminal Tribunal, it is related that a similar 
 being, named Rafin, was suspected and tracked 
 out in Paris, by the secret police of Fouche, 
 Napoleon's Duke of Otranto. He was a terri- 
 ble creature this M. Rafin, who resided at the 
 Hotel Pepin, in the Rue Saint Eloi, and after 
 his death, before Fouche buried him, he hewed 
 the head and hands from the body; so, some- 
 thing of the same idea of preventing a return 
 to life must have occurred to your friend Van 
 Bommel.' 
 
 My heart beat faster as she spoke, for the 
 book referred to had been one of many I had 
 given to her in our lover days at Walcot 
 Tower. 
 
 'You are a reader, Miss Haywood?' 
 
 1 Yes, books are my chief solace. In the 
 little library in your waggon I find many 
 stirring tales of military life. These seem to 
 be your particular taste.' 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 4 But with your spirit and turn for adven- 
 ture, did these never make you long to be a 
 soldier?' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 215 
 
 4 1 was a soldier — ' I began. 
 
 'A soldier! You, Mr. Kichard?' 
 
 'I was once an officer of the line/ said I, 
 with an irrepressible burst of emotion ; ' and, 
 thank heaven, shall soon be something of a 
 soldier again, if the general will accept my 
 services. But the past is a subject on which 
 I do not care to enter — or be questioned 
 about,' I added, somewhat curtly, as I saw 
 that Carysfort, who had been twirling his 
 moustache, now took his cigar from his lips, 
 and seemed on the point of asking those ques- 
 tions which so inevitably come from a military 
 man, as to what regiment and number, in- 
 fantry or cavalry, I had belonged. 
 
 The afternoon was cool and delightful. 
 
 4 Now for the road,' said Carysfort. 
 
 c Fall in the Highlanders — Cape escort to 
 the front,' cried Douglas. 
 
 c Inspann und trek,' was my command to 
 Adrian Africander. 
 
 1 Ya, mynheer,' replied the active Hotten- 
 tot, springing up, jambok in hand. c Ya — 
 yes, Baas Kichard; I'll be quick as a spring- 
 haan vogel.' 
 
 I assisted the ladies into the waggon; but 
 
216 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ere we departed, the playful Fanny, whose 
 outbursts at times jarred on Carysfort's ideas 
 of dignity, leaped to the ground again, that 
 she might stroke and kiss the nose of her led 
 horse, which, as she said, ' had never a hair of 
 his coat turned now, the dear old pet,' and so 
 forth. 
 
 As their guide, and being well aware of 
 the minute local knowledge I possessed of the 
 country, Clarice asked me many a question as 
 we proceeded; but Graves, the privileged 
 dangler, was ever near, and hourly the tenor 
 of his bearing to her caused jealousy in me to 
 seal up the avowal that hovered on my lips, 
 and confirmed the intention of observing and 
 waiting. Yet all my old love for her — the 
 love that had never died — was maturing again 
 to fever heat. 
 
 I felt that I was treated with marked at- 
 tention by the sisters. The admission that I 
 had once been an officer — which circumstance 
 Douglas confirmed, while, as I afterwords 
 learned, Graves hinted I had probably had 
 my services dispensed with— the story of the 
 magnificent diamond I had sold — exaggerated, 
 of course — others of marvellous adventure, all 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 2.17 
 
 made me rather ' a feature' in the little caval- 
 cade, and Mr. Percival Graves was piqued 
 thereat so far as it was in his inert and blase 
 nature to be. 
 
 But once I heard Carysfort say, and too 
 plainly for my benefit also — 
 
 ' Miss Haywood, you should keep this Mr. 
 Bichard at a little more distance. You permit 
 him to address you too freely, and I don't 
 think Graves quite likes it.' 
 
 A smile, yet one of annoyance, appeared 
 in the fair face of Clarice ; but Carysfort did 
 not wait for a response, for by simply checking 
 his horse he dropped in the rear. 
 
 4 1 do not like Carysfort talking to me 
 thus of Mr. Graves,' said Clarice to her 
 sister. 
 
 ' But what on earth can you see in that 
 goose, Clarice?' asked Fanny. 
 
 4 How?' 
 
 £ He never reads, or thinks, or sings, or 
 plays ; he never was heard to express surprise 
 at anything, to care about anything, to admire 
 anything except a cigar, a glass of wine, or a 
 horse's action. Why, the man is a brainless 
 fool, with very white hands, I admit, and a 
 
218 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 thick head of hair, well parted in the centre 
 and behind — his brushes do that.' 
 
 4 Granted ; but, Fanny, he is a gentleman.' 
 ' And beaux are scarce here, eh ?' 
 6 Perhaps,' was the careless answer. 
 I could detect that Mrs. Carysfort was 
 piqued because her sister absorbed all the at- 
 tention that this solemn Dundreary could 
 make up his mind to pay. Clarice was too 
 gentle to make any retort, as her love for her 
 sister was as that of a mother for a daughter. 
 She was maturer in thought than in years, 
 and she regarded with anxiety this addition 
 to their circle in the person of Captain Doug- 
 las, and feared his influence on their mutual 
 happiness. I was delighted with Fanny for 
 her remarks, but those of Carysfort stung me 
 deeply. 
 
 C I don't think Graves quite likes it.' I 
 repeated this phrase over again and again. 
 What did it mean? Were they actually en- 
 gaged? However, acting on the hint he had 
 dropped, though I smiled at it scornfully, I 
 joined Douglas, who, full of his own luckless 
 thoughts, rode a little way apart from us all. 
 We were still more than fifty miles from 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 219 
 
 the Araatolas, and the real seat of war ; and 
 we had yet to pass through a portion of Beau- 
 fort, in sight of the Black Mountain, and then 
 through Victoria into British Caffraria. 
 
 'What the deuce has inspired the Hay- 
 wood girls with this desire to go to the front ?' 
 said I; ' every hour increases their danger.' 
 
 ' Can't for the life of me tell,' replied Doug- 
 las, 'unless it be that Carysfort — a jealous 
 fellow — is afraid to leave his flirting wife be- 
 hind him in garrison ; and, as he brings her 
 on here under his own eye, the unmarried 
 sister must, perforce, accompany her chape- 
 rone.' 
 
 1 Well, that may, or must, be the right 
 reading of the story ; but heaven knows they 
 would be safer in Cape Town, or anywhere 
 else, than on the borders of British Caffraria 
 at a time like this.' 
 
 'It has resulted in a strange meeting for 
 us all, Dick,' said Douglas, after a pause. 
 
 ' For me especially. I as yet am unknown. 
 You they recognise, as you have met before 
 in this strange land; but with me the whole 
 case is so different.' 
 
 'I wish that your case, bad as you may 
 
220 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 think it, were mine. It's a deuced awkward 
 thing to be in love with another man's wife, 
 and that man your superior officer.' 
 
 ' I shall continue my incog., however.' 
 
 c Most unfair it is, I repeat, to Miss Hay- 
 wood.' 
 
 'She has forgotten poor Dick Haddon — 
 doubtless the freemasonry of love exists no 
 longer here,' said I bitterly. 
 
 c I thought the secret was about to be told, 
 when you so suddenly announced that you 
 had once worn harness. But are you not a 
 fool to let that fellow Graves have all the field 
 to himself?' 
 
 i Perhaps so, Gerard ; but I am severely 
 piqued.' 
 
 'Piqued — by what?' he asked impatiently. 
 
 1 The fooling of Graves, and her having so 
 evidently forgotten me.' 
 
 c She knows not of your existence. By 
 Jove, I've a jolly good mind to split upon you, 
 and tell her all about it.' 
 
 As he spoke, Douglas, always a man of 
 instant action, applied the spurs to his horse, 
 but I causrht its reins. 
 
 ' Do nothing of the kind, Gerard, yet awhile. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 221 
 
 Leave me to manage my own love affairs; 
 one sister behaved falsely — ' 
 
 'True,' said Douglas, through his set 
 teeth. 
 
 ' Then why may not the other ?' 
 
 fc You are most harsh and unjust to that 
 sweet Clarice.' 
 
 'Anyway, I shall not deserve the name of 
 that sable or ermine contrivance in which 
 ladies insert their hands in winter.' 
 
 < A muff.' 
 
 'Exactly — a muff. You see that by her 
 manner at this moment she encourages him.' 
 
 'Pardon me — she tolerates him. Gentle- 
 men are scarce here.' 
 
 ' And Guardsmen especially.' 
 
 ' By declaring your name, you would end 
 all this doubt at once.' 
 
 ' Reveal myself in this wretched colonial 
 guise, and while he is there ? Five years have 
 changed us little ; but we meet not again with 
 the same hearts — so far as she is concerned, 
 at least.' 
 
 'Why judge so harshly?' persisted Doug- 
 las; 'without further proof too? She could 
 not meet you without deep emotion.' 
 
222 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 But I was determined to be petulant, and 
 to make nryself miserable, and so replied : 
 
 'The hero of her first girlish romance, you 
 think. Pshaw ! Clarice is a woman of the 
 world now, not the simple girl of Walcot 
 Tower ; and the women of that kind in this 
 fast age are rapidly becoming cold and arti- 
 ficial. It is quite evident that this conceited 
 booby has made an impression upon her, and 
 thus I am a fool to torment myself.' 
 
 'Don't be too sure of either idea,' con- 
 tinued Douglas, who had all my interest at 
 heart ; i he may not have taken your place, 
 and you may be unwise to resign her so easily. 
 Think how well that girl loved you once !' 
 
 'Once! yes, that is the word.' 
 
 1 Speak out like a man. Tell her who you 
 are, and that you love her still. I would that 
 my chance was as yours is.' 
 
 'To have that love contested by a con- 
 ceited fop, perhaps, and ridiculed certainly by 
 her cold and pompous brother-in-law, Chandos 
 Carysfort. No, not yet.' 
 
 'To-morrow it may be too late. Yet I 
 would, Dick, that your case were only mine. 
 "What says a German writer? "With me the 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 223 
 
 dream of life is over. Reality alone surrounds 
 the man. The first love, the first vow, the 
 first real kiss. We can live but once, and the 
 hour that has gone never returns again." ' 
 
 4 Your German — Tieck, I think — is a hum- 
 bug/ 
 
 c True love should have faith,' urged Doug- 
 las, who was full of romance and enthusiasm. 
 
 ' Yes, and patience and courage too. All 
 these have I had. I waited and trusted too ; 
 but now that I so greatly fear there exists an 
 engagement — yes, perhaps an engagement ac- 
 tually — between Clarice and this Percival 
 Graves, why should I mar her happiness or 
 linger near her? No; I shall quit, and go — ' 
 
 'Where?' 
 
 c Heaven alone knows, I don't,' said I de- 
 spondingly. 
 
 ' Would to heaven that I, at least, was far 
 away from this awkward vicinity to Mrs. Ca- 
 rysfort — far away from her and from this. 
 She is heartless — utterly heartless !' said Doug- 
 las, as he glanced at the bright, golden-haired, 
 and coquettish Fanny, who was reclining on a 
 pile of soft skins under the awning, in an atti- 
 tude which she knew was an effective one, 
 
224 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and alternately smiled to him, fanned herself, 
 or affected to read. 
 
 But though he knew it not then, she was 
 regarding him with a perilous interest, and 
 saying in her heart : 
 
 ' Oh, what is he to me now ? Nothing — 
 less than nothing. What can he ever be? 
 Scarcely even a friend, for to be such would 
 be dangerous; so why should I shrink from 
 him or care about his presence? Why?' 
 
 And she left the next mental question un- 
 finished. 
 
 'This is the very hypocrisy of society,' 
 continued Douglas. ' There are moments, 
 Dick, when I feel almost inclined to insult 
 Fanny by cutting coldness ; others when I am 
 dying to kiss even her hand as of old; and 
 then I long to pistol Carysfort as an inter- 
 loper; and with all this we hob and nob to- 
 gether, exchange our cigar-cases, and pass 
 the wine as jollily as so many sandboys.' 
 
 1 She seems happy and lighthearted,' said I. 
 
 c Don't say so ; yet what do I want now ? 
 Why should this silly heart of mine feel a 
 new, or rather an old, pang, in the idea that 
 she is happy by the side of Carysfort? Could 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 225 
 
 I wish the playful Fanny Haywood I once 
 loved so well — yea, love still — to be otherwise 
 than a good, loyal, and true — a perfect wife 
 to her husband? There is, I know, a wicked- 
 ness now in this clinging to the memory of 
 the past; but what can a fellow do? How- 
 ever, in a few days at farthest, we shall be 
 face to face with the CafFres, under Sandilli, 
 and then, thank heaven, I shall have some 
 fighting cut out for me.' 
 
 ' Fate only knows how all this will end, 
 Gerard — whether for our happiness or misery,' 
 said I. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 As a change, Clarice proposed to mount her 
 horse for a few miles, as we were now among 
 beautiful scenery, where the fruit and the 
 flowers of that wonderful climate were all 
 growing together by the wayside in wild 
 luxuriance, and where graceful rheebucks 
 could be seen bounding along the sides of the 
 bright green hills. 
 
 Mr. Graves dismounted with graceful lei- 
 sure, threw his reins to one of the Cape Rifles, 
 and, to make himself useful, skinned off his 
 well-fitting kid gloves from two very white 
 hands. Mine had known no covering for five 
 years, and were brown now as a toad's back; 
 but, for all that, my fingers were more like 
 those of a man than the jewelled digits of the 
 fashionable aide-de-camp; and when African- 
 der had Miss Haywood's pad ready, antici- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 227 
 
 pating her slow admirer, I hastened to assist 
 her to mount, and swung her up into the sad- 
 dle, trembling in every fibre as I touched her 
 once again. 
 
 She thanked me by a blushing smile, ad- 
 justed her gauntlets, took her reins and switch, 
 and cantered her horse to the side of Douglas, 
 with whom she entered into a. conversation, 
 which, by the reference it bore to the past, 
 and the gjances my friend cast from time to 
 time at me, led me to anticipate the revelation 
 that was ere long to come, though I could 
 but occasionally hear their voices between the 
 creaking and rumbling of the waggon, the 
 noise of the horses' hoofs, and the incessant 
 cracking of Adrian Africander's jambok. 
 
 4 Since my dear old father died,' said Cla- 
 rice, C I have never known the happiness of 
 being entirely my own mistress.' (She was 
 replying to some remark of Douglas's.) 'I 
 am, in fact, as you know, a species of depend- 
 ent on my younger sister, as she has a posi- 
 tion by marriage. Had poor papa, who was 
 very heedless and improvident, left me but 
 one hundred a year — ' 
 
 i I have heard that Walcot was entailed.' 
 
228 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 4 So we two girls were cut off with a mere 
 pittance, Captain Douglas.' 
 
 'A hard case, indeed, to ladies of position.' 
 
 ' 1 was about to say that I might have 
 lived and died happily an old maid;' and, 
 knowing her own beauty and attractions, she 
 smiled almost roguishly at the epithet, 'in a 
 cottage somewhere, content with my books 
 and birds, flowers and piano — a cat, of course ; 
 but I might have thus lived a life of my own, 
 and not come here to live the life of others. 
 Do you understand me, Captain Douglas?' 
 
 'Perfectly, Miss Haywood.' 
 
 ' The present is all very well so long as it 
 lasts. Yet why did I come here ? Merely be- 
 cause I could not separate from the only being 
 that loved me now, and the only relation I had 
 in the world — my sister Fanny.' 
 
 ' I would to heaven you were both at 
 home in England rather than here at this 
 time,' said Douglas, pursuing his own secret 
 thoughts. ' It is most rash and unwise of 
 Major Carysfort to bring you to the front 
 with him.' 
 
 ' Had I been left in England alone, I should 
 have been miserable; so that when I think 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 229 
 
 life might have been sadder for me than it is, 
 I am thankful and content.' 
 
 1 Sadder,' thought I, as a mournful cadence 
 in her sweet voice stirred my heart; ' can her 
 secret sorrow be a memory of me ? What will 
 all this come to?' 
 
 About sunset we reached the village where 
 1 had suggested to Carysfort we should halt 
 for the night. 
 
 It was almost entirely Dutch, and a most 
 picturesque-looking little place, surrounded by 
 green and wooded mountains that towered 
 above a river, whose current was impurpled 
 by the sunset sky. Speck-boom covered the 
 rocks, and gigantic willows and graceful 
 feathery acacias, their branches covered with 
 mistletoe and other creepers, grew by the side 
 of the rushing stream. 
 
 The little Dutch houses were quaint and 
 pretty; hedges of quince enclosed their gar- 
 dens, and rows of lemon trees, loaded with 
 ripe fruit, bordered the highway by which we 
 marched in. 
 
 The Highlanders and Cape escort were 
 'told off' to billets, and the Carysfort party, 
 with Douglas and myself, were accommodated 
 
230 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 at a mansion, the Baas, or master, of which 
 proved to be my old friend, Speke van Bom- 
 mel, whose kraal having been destroyed by the 
 Caffre insurgents, he had been compelled to 
 seek shelter and companionship in the com- 
 munity afforded by a village. 
 
 The sturdy old Dutch farmer expressed 
 great joy to see me again, adding that ' of all 
 the men in the Cape Colony I was the one 
 most needed by the villagers just now.' 
 
 'How so, mynheer?' asked I; 'trading 
 I have relinquished. In what fashion can I 
 serve you?' 
 
 ' In the wood beyond the river,' he replied, 
 • a tree leopard, one of the most ferocious ever 
 known, has made his lair. He is not satisfied 
 with the antelopes, the young baboons, and 
 rock badgers, as food, for nightly he prowls 
 about the village here, stealing goats and 
 sheep, and twice in open day he has made off 
 with children, and rent them to pieces. They 
 were only little Hottentots, to be sure; but, 
 Gott in Himmel ! they might have been 
 whites.' 
 
 'Why do you not lay a trap for him?' 
 said I. 
 
SHALL 1 WIN HER? 231 
 
 'Traps of stone and timber have been 
 made for him; but, as we say at home in Hol- 
 land, " Sude vossen zijn kwaad te panger (old 
 foxes are hard to take)," so, although he is no 
 fox, we have failed to take him. Our best 
 marksmen have missed him, even when hunted 
 by dogs into a tree, for he is unsurpassed in 
 strength, speed, and ferocity. Only yesterday 
 he attacked a poor woodcutter, on whom he 
 sprang from behind, and depriving him of all 
 power of resistance, rent him well nigh asun- 
 der with his teeth and claws, so now the man 
 is dying.' 
 
 ' And the villagers would wish me to kill 
 this fellow?' 
 
 c If any man between Cape Paternoster 
 and Canraria can do so, it must be you, Myn- 
 heer Richard.' 
 
 4 1 thank you for your high opinion of my 
 skill and courage, Mynheer van Bommel,' 
 said I, laughing. 
 
 1 Surely you will not venture your life in 
 such a matter as this ?' urged Clarice, when 
 I had translated into English all that Van 
 Bommel had said : * the ferocity of this wild 
 animal is beyond all parallel, apparently.' 
 
232 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 I looked into her eyes with undisguised 
 tenderness, for her voice thrilled me, and in 
 her genuine kindness and anxiety she laid her 
 pretty hand upon my arm. 
 
 4 1 shall lay his skin at your feet, Miss 
 Haywood, or leave him my own,' said I, and 
 a spirit of desperation or bravado seized me, 
 as I rejoiced in the opportunity thus afforded 
 for doing something brilliant or daring — 
 something in which others had failed — and 
 before her too ! 
 
 ' 1 have potted many a tiger in India from 
 the howdah of a Shikaree elephant,' said Ca- 
 rysfort, * and see nothing in this. I should go 
 with you else; besides, I am a married man 
 now, and should run no useless risks.' 
 
 ' Will you join me, Mr. Graves ?' I asked. 
 1 It will be a piece of rare sport, I promise 
 you.' 
 
 1 Thanks, no,' he drawled languidly, pull- 
 ing out his fair flyaway whiskers. 4 Potting 
 leopards is a style of thing I — aw, aw — don't 
 know much of. A doocid deal of trouble, too, 
 I should say — ya-as !' 
 
 ' I thought you were expressing a wish for 
 something of this kind, as a contrast to the 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 233 
 
 social treadmill of London West-end life, as 
 experienced by you men of the Household 
 Brigade,' said Carysfort, with a calm but partly 
 disdainful smile. 
 
 'Ya-as, perhaps I did; but I — aw, aw — 
 don't see the fun of finding oneself face to face 
 with — aw, aw — a demmed tigaw, except in 
 the Zoo. If you are so doocid fond of such 
 adventures, why don't you go yourself, major?' 
 
 ' 1 have said already that I am a married 
 man.' 
 
 ' And he that hath a wife — ' 
 
 'Exactly,' said Carysfort curtly. 'I dis- 
 like proverbs.' 
 
 ' Are you as skilful as you are brave, Mr. 
 Richard?' asked Mrs. Carysfort. 
 
 4 It is useless to ask a man whether he is 
 skilful, enterprising, or bold,' said I, smiling 
 at the simplicity of her question. 
 
 ' Why so?' 
 
 ' One can be something that is better than 
 all three.' 
 
 'Indeed! What?' 
 
 ' To be fortunate,' said I, glancing at Cla- 
 rice. 
 
 'True,' said she thoughtfully; 'but for- 
 
234 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 tune is a star that only certain men are born 
 under. I hope that you are one of these, and 
 as you are bent on this expedition, I may say, 
 with Rosalind, " The little strength I have, I 
 would it were with you." ' 
 
 ' I thank you, Miss Haywood, and repeat 
 that I shall lay his skin at your feet, or leave 
 him my own.' 
 
 Again and again she sought to dissuade 
 me, but without avail, so, accompanied by 
 Douglas and Adrian Africander, I set out for 
 the wood mentioned by Van Bommel just as 
 the sun was dipping behind the mountains. 
 
 From the inhabitants of the village we 
 heard accounts corroborative of all that Van 
 Bommel had told me of the wonderful ferocity 
 and strength of this leopard, or tree tiger. Its 
 nature was to destroy life rather than to de- 
 vour flesh. 
 
 What if my gun missed fire, or merely 
 wounded it ? If I was thus left to its mercy, 
 and destroyed on the spot, or cruelly lacerated 
 and mangled? I shrunk from the first idea — 
 that of extinction — but felt a strange and 
 gloomy joy in the chance of the latter catas- 
 trophe. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 235 
 
 In that case I would tell Clarice who I 
 was, and die with her hand in mine — her kiss, 
 perhaps, upon my lips. 
 
 When we set out on this hunting expe- 
 dition I could little foresee the effect it was 
 to have upon the future safety, the fate, and 
 the lives of Clarice and myself. 
 
 Our double-barrelled rifles were carefully 
 loaded and capped, and Adrian Africander 
 followed us with an additional weapon — a 
 single-barrelled German rifle, the ammunition 
 for which was twelve bullets to the pound of 
 lead. It was a gun in which I put great faith 
 in emergencies. 
 
 We crossed the river by a bridge, and 
 rode towards the wood where the leopard had 
 its lair. 
 
 1 You saw Graves and I having a quiet 
 weed together about an hour ago?' said 
 Douglas. 
 
 'Yes, in the verandah before the house; 
 and you seemed to be in very close conversa- 
 tion — so earnest, in fact, that, as he is almost 
 brainless, I wondered what you were talking 
 about.' 
 
 c We simply spoke of one who has fur- 
 
o 
 
 36 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 nished a considerable amount of conversation 
 to you and me.' 
 
 ' Clarice — Miss Haywood?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' And what were his views concerning 
 her?' 
 
 ' Matrimonial. ' 
 
 1 Matrimonial !' 
 
 1 Decidedly so.' 
 
 4 The devil ! Tell me what he said.' 
 
 ' His opinions were thus expressed to me, 
 when for my own purposes, or yours rather, 
 I sought to sift him. " I daresay she will 
 have me whenever I ask her — ya-as — of 
 course she will. Girls go to — aw, aw — India 
 to get married, and this place is halfway 
 there. Of course she is mercenary, and all 
 that sort of thing, but pretty enough to be a 
 very — aw — creditable wife for a fellow even 
 in London. So, hang me, if I don't think I'll 
 go in for matrimony. By Jove, that will be 
 pleasanter work than shooting tigers." ' 
 
 ' Hang his assurance,' said I; ' there is no 
 engagement between them, Gerard, if he spoke 
 thus, and that is one comfort, at all events.' 
 
 i I hinted,' continued Douglas, c that she 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 237 
 
 might not be so easily won, and that perhaps 
 she still loved one who was elsewhere — a cer- 
 tain Fusilier of my acquaintance.' 
 
 c And what said heathen V 
 
 4 " It is deadly lively work, this Cape colo- 
 nial service, so a fellow may as well — aw, aw 
 — go in for doocid matrimony as anything 
 else ; and as for your Fusilier friend, I may 
 remind you that I am a Guardsman, and as I 
 once read in a book — aw, aw — * the soldier's 
 young lady has very much the great Napo- 
 leon's view of an army ; one man in red being 
 the same as another, so long as he fills the 
 ranks;"' 
 
 ' This was cool insolence, Gerard.' 
 
 ' So I thought it. Yet to this person you 
 will resign her.' 
 
 After this we rode on in silence, and as 
 keen sportsmen had a difficulty in resisting 
 the inclination to have a passing shot at the 
 numerous bustards, and especially the Nama- 
 qua partridges that whirred past us. 
 
 A small lake, named the Rhinoceros Pool, 
 had been indicated as the place where the 
 leopard was most frequently seen, and ere 
 long we reached its banks, which were bor- 
 
238 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 dered by vast numbers of enormous mari- 
 golds, water lilies, and tulips growing wild. 
 Among these lay the rent fragments and 
 bones of various animals — baboons, antelopes, 
 sheep, and so forth, which had fallen a prey 
 to the terrible quadruped we were in quest 
 of, and the cleanly-picked skull of a child — 
 probably that of one of the young Hottentots 
 of whom Van Bommel had spoken — was lying 
 there, to add to the ghastly interest of the 
 locality. 
 
 The wood grew close to the margin of the 
 pool. It was dense, extended for several miles 
 away towards the mountains, and was chiefly 
 composed of very ancient willow trees, called 
 by the Dutch colonists olean wood, intermin- 
 gled with thorny timber of the mimosa spe- 
 cies. 
 
 We galloped round the pool, as we were 
 anxious to start our perilous game ere the 
 night closed in, and it was closing fast. 
 
 Adrian Africander followed us on foot 
 with all the activity of his race. From the 
 debris of bones which lay about the place I 
 was certain that we were close upon his track 
 or lair, and this idea became verified when we 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 239 
 
 heard the report of a gun, and then a wild 
 and terrible cry, as from a human being in 
 agony, burst upon the still, calm evening air. 
 
 We pushed on towards the spot from 
 whence these alarming sounds seemed to pro- 
 ceed, a species of ravine, where the wood was 
 confined between two masses of rock, and 
 there beheld two C afire hunters already in 
 conflict with our game — an enormous tree 
 leopard. 
 
 The animal had been endeavouring to 
 escape from them by ascending the rocks, but 
 being closely pressed, it had turned, pulled 
 one from his horse, and rent him with many 
 mortal wounds, by one stroke of his mighty 
 paw tearing the whole of the wretched crea- 
 ture's scalp over his eyes. Thus he presented 
 a terrible and ghastly spectacle. 
 
 Now, as we approached, the other Cafire 
 was reloading his musket with tremulous 
 haste, while the leopard was crouching on 
 the ground, with his forepaws stretched out, 
 and his head between them, preparatory to 
 springing on his second prey ; and at that 
 moment there was something alike terrible 
 and beautiful, easy and graceful, in his ac- 
 
240 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 tion and appearance. Of this grandeur and 
 strength, agility and ferocity, no one who has 
 only seen the leopard in an European mena- 
 gerie can have any conception. 
 
 I leaped from my horse and cocked my 
 rifle. 
 
 ' Let them fight it out !' cried Douglas. 
 
 1 A Caffre more or less in this world mat- 
 ters little to us, certainly,' said I. 'Missed, 
 by Jove!' I added, as the Caffre fired his gun 
 — an old Tower musket, apparently — and his 
 bullet failing to hit the leopard, was flattened 
 like a silver star on the rocks behind it. 
 
 The Caffre, a strong, athletic, and stately- 
 looking savage, well up in years, now uttered 
 a cry, as if he gave himself up for lost, when, 
 quick as a flash of lightning, the leopard was 
 upon him, and its terrible fangs were closed 
 in his bare brown shoulder, from whence the 
 blood sprang forth, and its claws tore open 
 his left cheek. 
 
 I fired, and planted a ball fairly into his 
 throat. 1 had aimed point blank for the 
 head, but his motions were alike rapid and 
 uncertain. Abandoning his prostrate enemy, 
 he now darted with terrible fury upon me. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 241 
 
 A bullet from my second barrel met him 
 as he came on; but instead of killing, it 
 added to his agony and fury. The hand of 
 death was on him ; thus, though he knocked 
 me over, he was incapable of biting me. I 
 flung aside my rifle, and grappling with him, 
 buried my left hand among the thick white 
 fur of his throat, and drawing my hunting- 
 knife, strove by repeated stabs to complete 
 by the blade what the bullet had begun. 
 
 My heart was beating wildly — I panted 
 rather than breathed. Never had I before 
 been in so close an encounter ; and as we 
 rolled over each other down the rocky slope, 
 I was not without fears that either the 
 wounded Caffre, or Douglas, or Adrian Afri- 
 cander, all of whom were reloading, might 
 realise the old adage of hitting the pigeon and 
 missing the crow, by planting a bullet in me. 
 
 All this passed more rapidly than words 
 can describe it. By the manner in which 1 had 
 wounded and seized him, I had the complete 
 mastery of the leopard's lower jaw, and thus 
 saved my throat— for it is at the throat suc^ 
 animals always spring — from his terrible teeth ; 
 but his claws, now rapidly becoming power- 
 
 VOL. i. R 
 
242 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 less, tore and rent to rags my clothes, which 
 were deluged by his blood. 
 
 At last he lolled out his hot, red tongue, 
 and lay still. I was above him, but panting 
 and breathless, and so incapable of stabbing 
 him again, that he might have crawled away 
 and escaped, but not with life, had not the 
 Caffre whose life I had saved given him the 
 coup de grace, by taking the knife from my 
 weary hand and completely severing his 
 throat. 
 
 By this time the other Caffre was dead. 
 
 When we had a little recovered our breath 
 and presence of mind — for Douglas, who had 
 never witnessed a conflict of this nature, had 
 given me over for lost, as I was covered with 
 blood — the Caffre, a grave and dignified-look- 
 ing man, whose hair was becoming grizzled, 
 thanked me for saving his life in very pretty 
 terms, and in the soft and musical language 
 of his country, which abounds in vowels. 
 
 He wore a carosie of tiger skin, and a nar- 
 row but tastefully beaded band round his head. 
 Bv these I knew him to be a chief among his 
 people. But he had lost his dark cloak in the 
 struggle, and his savage but picturesque dra- 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 243 
 
 pery, like my own garments, had been torn to 
 tatters. He had a handsome yet hooked nose, 
 and was of a brown or iron -gray complexion, 
 though his lips were thick, and of the negro 
 type. 
 
 c I am one of the Koussie,' said he ; 'a 
 Caffre of the mountains.' 
 
 ' So I perceive ; but not a follower of San- 
 dilli, I hope? 5 
 
 He smiled disdainfully. 
 
 4 1 owe you life, and I thank you — thank 
 you gratefully,' he added, patting my shoulder, 
 as I gave him my handkerchief to bind over 
 his lacerated cheek. ' Why should you and I 
 be enemies because of the different colour of 
 our skin?' 
 
 1 It is not that which makes us enemies.' 
 
 ' It is,' said he emphatically. ' The white 
 man ever scorns, and when he can do so, 
 tramples on the dark; but do the lilies which 
 are white hate the roses which are red, or the 
 flowers of the mimosa which are yellow ? Do 
 they not drink of the same sweet clew, close 
 their leaves under the same midnight shadow, 
 and expand them again under the same sun- 
 shine ?' 
 
244 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 4 Go, chief,' said I, replying somewhat m 
 the same strain ; ' go in peace. At times men 
 are fools, but you Caffres have been wicked 
 and cruel!' 
 
 • We were wronged and invaded!' 
 
 c You have burned our kraals, slain our 
 delicate women and little children, murdering 
 many of our people in cold blood.' 
 
 1 Then your people should have stayed 
 home. To whom does England belong? To us, 
 or to you ? If to you — why did you leave it ? 
 To whom does the land you tread on belong? 
 To us, and we leave it not to tread on yours. 
 We know that in one day, the earth, the sky, 
 and man were created ; but we know not why, 
 or when, or by whom,' he continued, for the 
 Caffres have no ideas of religion, of a future 
 state, or of a supreme being, and have not in 
 their language a word whereby to express the 
 idea of a deity; but all men are equal under 
 the sun, save those who are chiefs. ' You 
 were born an Englishman, so England, wher- 
 ever that may be, is your home. We are 
 Caffres — the Koussie of the Amatolas — so Caf- 
 fraria is ours. Between our countries lies 
 a great barrier — the vast sea. Why did you 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 245 
 
 cross it ? why came you here ? I never went 
 to your country, and never mean to do so. 
 Go to some other kraal or clime, and leave us 
 in peace with our flocks and families. Men 
 are but fools at times, indeed ; but go ! I wish 
 you well, for you have saved me from a terri- 
 ble death. Adieu!' 
 
 And with a low salutation, after saying 
 something in a low voice to Adrian Africander, 
 who was busy skinning the leopard — a some- 
 thing which gave me a vague and unpleasant 
 suspicion of collusion between them — the Caffre 
 went to where his horse was haltered to a 
 tree, and mounting it, galloped off without 
 bestowing a glance on his slain and sorely 
 mutilated companion, for this people bury 
 none of their dead, save chiefs. Others are 
 barbarously left to the wolves and jackals. 
 
 About half an hour after he had disap- 
 peared into the forest, when we had the skin 
 off — a beautiful specimen of the felis jubatas, 
 the leopard proved — and were returning to the 
 village, I heard Adrian Africander chuckling in 
 the dark as only a Hottentot can chuckle. 
 
 4 What amuses you, my friend?' I asked 
 suspiciously. 
 
246 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 4 Dat was a Baas — a great chief!' 
 
 'Was lie— who?' 
 
 4 Sandilli!' cried the Hottentot, with a yell 
 of laughter. 
 
 4 Sandilli !' I repeated, aghast. 
 
 4 Sandilli, who keeps the Amatolas against 
 us?' exclaimed Douglas, in the same tone of 
 rage and surprise. 
 
 4 Ya-ya, Baas Richard.' 
 
 4 You treacherous scoundrel, and you per- 
 mitted him to go — you, an old Cape Rifleman, 
 in receipt of the Queen's pension ! Why did 
 you not speak? By taking him the general 
 might have made terms with his people, and 
 we might have ended this war ere it is well 
 begun.' 
 
 The deed was done. 
 
 I felt inclined to flog or shoot my Hotten- 
 tot follower, and was resolved to hand him 
 over to the first civil magistrate, or to the 
 general, to be dealt with according to his 
 deserts, and so for the time dissembled my 
 annoyance, lest he might leave in the night. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 On reaching the house of the exulting Van 
 Bommel I laid the pierced and bloody skin of 
 the once terrible tree leopard — not without 
 an emotion of justifiable vanity — at the feet 
 of Clarice Haywood. 
 
 She shrank from it with a shudder, and 
 then approached me, with her white hands 
 uplifted, her hazel eyes full of light, and her 
 lips parted by a beautiful smile as she looked 
 up at me. The soft, Greuze-like complexion, 
 so tender and peachy; her form so light and 
 airy, and yet withal so womanly, filled me 
 with admiration. Never did she seem more 
 handsome than at that moment, and with 
 mingled sadness and joy I gazed upon her 
 small and delicately cut face, for she was my 
 own Clarice of the past time of love and 
 happiness. 
 
248 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 i Oh, Mr. Richard,' she exclaimed, with 
 clasped hands, 'and you are safe! Welcome 
 back! Xo wounds, I hear; yet all this 
 blood!' 
 
 ' It is the leopard's. Some of it, perhaps, 
 that of a Caffre whose life we saved from him. 
 Thank heaven, Miss Haywood, none of it is 
 mine !' 
 
 ' Thank heaven, too, say I. I and Fanny 
 — Mrs. Carysfort, I mean — have been quite 
 miserable about you!' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 c Can you ask me why ?' 
 
 c Yes. About me, a stranger.' 
 
 'You have been so kind and considerate 
 to us, and are moreover a friend of Captain 
 Douglas,' she added, colouring slightly. 
 
 1 Such adventures are everyday occur- 
 rences to me.' 
 
 4 1 have to congratulate you on a victory 
 which frees this pretty village from a danger- 
 ous pest, Mr. Richard,' said Major Carysfort 
 pompously, as he had listened with a little 
 impatience to the interest the sisters expressed 
 for me, whom he received as ' only a Caffre 
 trader fellow.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 249 
 
 1 But only think, major, I saved from his 
 claws and jaws a C afire who rode quietly off, 
 and proved to be — who do you think?' 
 
 ' Can't say, 'pon my honour. Some friend 
 of yours, probably,' said Carysfort, twirling 
 his right moustache, and half closing his eyes 
 in a supercilious fashion he had. 
 
 4 The rebel chief Sandilli.' 
 
 4 Good heavens ! do you say so?' exclaimed 
 the major, becoming thoroughly interested. 
 
 1 Sandilli himself, beyond a doubt. He 
 spoke to Adrian Africander, who recognised 
 him.' 
 
 ' Gwacious goodness !' said Mr. Graves to 
 Clarice; ' aw — aw — and he made all the run- 
 ning !' 
 
 1 As you might have done had you been 
 there,' said Douglas, rather too pointedly; 
 ' but the whole affair did not occupy twenty 
 minutes.' 
 
 1 A new version of " Twenty Minutes with a 
 Tigaw." Aw — capital farce, by Jove !' 
 
 4 You would have thought it no farce to 
 have grappled with him, as his slayer did,* 
 said Douglas. 
 
 ' I might have gone with you to-morrow ; 
 
250 SHALL I WIN HEK ? 
 
 but you were determined — aw, aw — to do it 
 to-night.' 
 
 'Yes, and I rather think he has done it,' 
 added Douglas. 
 
 There was a pause now, and Gerard, who 
 had been looking with interest alternately at 
 me and Clarice, said — 
 
 'Miss Haywood, there is amongst us an 
 absurd secret of which I shall no longer be 
 the custodian, and you must share it with me.' 
 
 'Douglas!' I exclaimed. 
 
 'A secret,' said Clarice, 'and which I am 
 to share with you?' 
 
 ' This gentleman whose courage you ad- 
 mire, for whose success and safety you were, 
 in the humanity and gentleness of you heart, 
 so deeply interested, is my old friend and your 
 lover, Kichard Haddon, of Haddonrig. Have 
 you been blind or dreaming, Miss Haywood? 
 Look at him well. Have that brown skin, 
 that ample beard, and coarse blouse so changed 
 the handsome man you loved at Walcot Tower 
 that you cannot recognise him?' 
 
 ' Clarice,' said I, holding out my hands to- 
 wards her, and speaking in a voice so tremu- 
 lous and tender that I could scarcely have 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 251 
 
 recognised it as my own, ' 'tis indeed I — 
 Richard Haddon !' 
 
 She gazed at me with a stupefied air, and 
 changing colour repeatedly, burst into tears, 
 as she said — 
 
 ; Ah ! this then is the secret of the interest 
 that was growing in my heart — this is why I 
 never tired of listening to your voice, of look- 
 ing into your eyes, as if seeking there for the 
 fragments of a half- forgotten dream. But, oh, 
 Mr. Haddon—' 
 
 4 For heaven's sake call me Eichard, as of 
 old — as of old, Clarice,' said I, taking her in 
 my arms, and kissing her tenderly. 
 
 'Why have you thus concealed yourself 
 and your existence from me then? It was 
 unkind — it was cruel!' 
 
 c All that I shall explain at a fitting time, 
 said 1, for Mr. Percival Graves was in the 
 room, and Carysfort too, the latter looking 
 doubtfully and disdainfully on, all the more 
 so that Fanny threw her arms round my neck, 
 and kissed me on both cheeks, exclaiming — 
 
 1 Dear old Dick Haddon ! I must have 
 been blind not to recognise you in a hundred 
 beards and blouses. Oh, Dick, such romping 
 
252 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 and fun as we used to have together long ago 
 at Walcot Tower !' 
 
 All the confusion now was on the side of 
 Clarice — all the utter confusion incident to 
 this discovery — and, sooth to say, I felt a little 
 ashamed of the incognito I had preserved. I 
 had, by use and wont, and foreknowledge, 
 since the time of our meeting at the Halve 
 Mone in Graham's Town, no surprise to feel ; 
 but for her, poor girl, the first ideas were, 
 4 How am I to speak, act, or greet him after 
 all the past, and by non-recognition seeming 
 to have totally forgotten him?' 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before we became 
 aware that, one by one, our friends had by 
 tacit arrangement left us — even Graves saun- 
 tered out 'to have a quiet cigaw over it, by 
 Jove !' — and that we were together and alone. 
 
 Hand in hand we sat at last — her dear 
 head reclining on my shoulder, my cheek rest- 
 ing upon her upturned brow. 
 
 ' Well, Clarice — my own, my tender love, 
 Clarice — do you think me greatly altered ?' I 
 asked. 
 
 * Since the dear old days at Walcot Tower ? 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 253 
 
 'You are somewhat in appearance — 
 rougher, hardier, more bearded; yet I must 
 have been blind, my darling — blind!' 
 
 I Ah, Clarice, I have led a strange life since 
 then. Never has a day passed over my head 
 without a struggle of some kind, either with 
 wild men or wilder animals, for my daily food 
 depended on my gun. I am older too.' 
 
 4 Five years only ; but dearer than ever to 
 me.' 
 
 I I am almost past that time, Clarice, when 
 a man's highest idea or first wish is for beauty 
 of face or form. Yet you are a lovely girl still. ' 
 
 'And you have loved no one else since?' 
 
 c Since when, darling ?' 
 
 c You loved me, Dick. 7 
 
 'No one, Clarice. I swear it!' 
 
 1 My poor, but faithful Dick !' 
 
 ' So true it is, Clarice, that " the perfume 
 of an early love keeps the heart pure for many 
 a year after." ' 
 
 ' Do you remember the evening when I 
 gave you my neck ribbon,' she asked tenderly. 
 
 c Could I ever forget it ? Yes, it was the 
 first time I said that I loved you. Well, Cla- 
 rice, I have it still — see !' and from the secret 
 
254 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 pocket of my blouse I drew it forth. ' When 
 we were wrecked in the South Atlantic, this 
 ribbon, the sole relic I had of you, was all I 
 saved from the sinking ship. See how the salt 
 water has stained it, and how time has made 
 it fade.' 
 
 c And I have treasured and worn the neck- 
 let you gave me on that eventful evening, 
 which has never been forgotten by me.' 
 
 ' Nor by me, and often have I lived it over 
 again in many a dream in the wild forests of 
 Africa/ 
 
 ' Oh, Dick, who in the world is like you ? 
 And yet you cruelly kept the secret of your 
 existence for days, when I have been travel- 
 ling by your side. And Gerard Douglas, too 
 — how I mean to scold him. It was most un- 
 kind of you both.' 
 
 Then I explained my doubts of Graves — 
 my fears of an engagement; but she only 
 laughed, and stopped by kisses nearly all of 
 what T had to say. 
 
 4 Ah, that good soul, Captain Douglas, really 
 seems to know and understand me better than 
 you, Dick. How I shall ever respect and love 
 that man !' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 255 
 
 c " There is an old Greek saying," says a 
 writer, "which is too foolish to indulge in, 
 but it explains a perfect love as the reunion of 
 two beings who at first were one; but who, 
 separated by an angry deity, have wandered 
 blindly through the universe in search of one 
 another. But it sometimes happens that the 
 half soul finds its other half too late." ' 
 
 ' But this is not so with us, Dick.' 
 
 I caressed her tenderly for all this answer 
 implied. 
 
 'No, Clarice/ said I; ' and now that 1 have 
 found you again, one we shall be in soul, and 
 flesh, and spirit. I am rich now. When I 
 left you I was poor in purse, hopeless, and 
 broken in spirit. I wrote you many a letter, 
 which you never received, and as no answer 
 came, I thought that you had forgotten me, or 
 married another; for by time and separation 
 those whom we may know to be living are al- 
 most as if dead, though they come at times 
 to memory vividly, like the sweet, sad visions 
 of the night. I was learning to be content till 
 Gerard told me of your existence — that you 
 were unwedded and had come to this far land, 
 and now that dull content has, blessed be hea- 
 
256 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ven, been changed to a new and sudden 
 
 1 Oh, what a debt of love I owe you, darling 
 of my heart !' said Clarice, amid her tears, as 
 she clung to me. 
 
 A silence came upon us as we sat there, 
 half embraced, and full of our own thoughts — 
 thoughts that had become too deep for utter- 
 ance. 
 
 Clarice was thinking that her old first love 
 had come back to her — he who had never for- 
 gotten, never been false to her amid misfor- 
 tune, change, privation, poverty, and danger. 
 Amid all these he had treasured her memory, 
 her image, even the faded neck ribbon, ex- 
 changed for the necklet of ductile gold on that 
 sweet evening so long ago by the old ruined 
 tower, when the sunset was lingering softly on 
 the blue Cheviot Hills. 
 
 It was like an exciting fiction ; yet it was 
 all a tender reality. 
 
 If we cherish a hope long, and ponder and 
 brood over it, when the hour of its fulfilment 
 comes, it is strange that we take it, somehow, 
 almost as a matter of course, and thus it falls 
 into its day and hour in the tenor of our lives. 
 
SHALL I WIS HER ? 257 
 
 So had I brooded, thought over, and pic- 
 tured, at times, the slender chances of a re- 
 union with my long-lost Clarice, especially as 
 wealth came flowing in upon me. At last she 
 was in my arms, and it seemed now but as 
 yesterday since I left her with my heart well 
 nigh broken. 
 
 ' Too slow we learn the great truth,' said 
 she, for she was a pious and hopeful creature, 
 ' that for those whom God takes into his own 
 care all events do come of set purpose and fore- 
 thought. ' 
 
 c Hence our reunion, darling.' 
 
 So we sat long together, as in a dream, 
 while the happy hours of the starry night 
 stole away. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Apkopos of Douglas's revelation of my iden- 
 tity, while Carysfort and Graves, through the 
 medium of their meerschaums and cavendish, 
 held grave consultation on this new feature in 
 their affairs, and the sudden position I had 
 assumed among them, and while Clarice and I 
 were so pleasantly engaged, as related, a con- 
 versation about us ensued between Gerard and 
 Mrs. Carysfort ; but it . rapidly became painful 
 and awkward in its tenor and tenderness, for 
 they were in a perilous position by their me- 
 mories of the past. 
 
 It occurred in the broad and shady veran- 
 dah of the house of Speke van Bommel. 
 
 'And so Richard was jealous of Mr. Graves,' 
 said Mrs. Carysfort, as she leaned against the 
 bamboo railing of the verandah, and fanned 
 herself, the action causing her soft, luxuriant 
 hair, then all unbound for coolness, to ruffle 
 out like threads of gold in the moonlight. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 259 
 
 ' Jealous!' she continued. 'I am sure poor 
 Clarice gave him no reason. Graves was only 
 a friend, travelling the same way with us — a 
 brother staff- officer of Carysfort's, and nothing 
 more. What could he be ?' 
 
 'In time, what might he not have been?' 
 
 'True,' said Mrs. Carysfort, with one of 
 her silvery laughs. 
 
 'I am glad he is but a friend,' resumed 
 Douglas, who was observing her earnestly, 
 sadly, and even tenderly, in spite of himself, 
 for the beauty of Fanny was very winning, 
 and he could not forget the times when he 
 had rained kisses on those pouting lips and 
 laughing blue eyes, and on that low, but lovely 
 brow. 'Poor Dick feared there was an en- 
 gagement, and if so, was resolved not to mar 
 it by discovering himself.' 
 
 ' Oh, that was too absurd!' 
 
 ' Why so ? Well, he is rich now ; and in- 
 stead of that Dundreary, with the delicate 
 white hands and parted hair, she will have a 
 handsome, healthy, strong, and active fellow, 
 who has faced death and danger in a hundred 
 fashions, and with whom this West-end fopling 
 is in no way comparable.' 
 
260 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 'I can hardly fancy Clarice being mar- 
 ried,' said Fanny, with a pretty air of pon- 
 dering. 
 
 'Why? What did you think when you 
 were married?' 
 
 ' I thought it very funny, and odd to — 
 to—' 
 
 i Funny and odd !' 
 
 1 Yes, to write my name as Fanny Carys- 
 fort.' 
 
 'Was that all?' asked Douglas, drawing 
 nearer, and lowering his voice. 
 
 'No; I also thought like Irene in her 
 " Kepentance." ' 
 
 ' And what thought Irene ?' 
 
 c " Oh, dear, what a deal may be done in 
 a few minutes. I hope I may never live to 
 repent it !" A strange idea of marriage, was 
 it not?' 
 
 ' Was it not more strange to find that you 
 were heartless?' 
 
 1 Captain Douglas !' 
 
 ' I used to be Gerard with you once. But 
 was it not more strange to find that you had 
 trifled with one of the divinest mysteries that 
 heaven has given us — this human love, which 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 261 
 
 it has made so strong and yet so tender in the 
 heart? 
 
 ' And which may be false in the end?' 
 
 ' As yours was.' 
 
 ' You are becoming severe, and I must go, 
 Captain Douglas,' said Mrs. Carysfort, fanning 
 herself furiously, and blushing deeply. 
 
 Yet she remained, as she did not like the 
 idea of being beaten in a war of words by 
 Douglas, though she feared his downright 
 earnestness. 
 
 ' Oh, heavens, Fanny ! — for this time permit 
 me to call you so as of old. Since blossoms 
 bloomed in Eden the mistakes of men have too 
 often been traceable to the influence—' 
 
 1 Of us — the weaker vessels — you would 
 say.' 
 
 < Exactly.' 
 
 'Then, how weak you men must be,' said 
 Fanny. 
 
 This mocking bearing offended the gravity 
 of Douglas, who gave her a glance full of deep 
 reproach. 
 
 ' I know all that you allude to, and know 
 all that you would wish to say — that you, you 
 love me still,' said Mrs. Carysfort deliberately. 
 
262 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ' Love you ! Heaven above us knows that 
 I do!' replied Douglas, striking his hands, 
 while tears started into his fine dark eyes. 
 i But with this dangerous admission, Fanny, 
 must come the memory that I have no right 
 now to do so. You can never be mine, yet I 
 pray for your happiness.' 
 
 The coquette and jilt became grave, for 
 the hopeless love and respectful bearing of 
 Douglas touched her. 
 
 1 Don't forget, my dear friend, that at the 
 time you allude to I was only eighteen, an 
 age when, as some one has it, a a woman is 
 only a kind of refinement upon a kitten — 
 beautiful, graceful, capricious, and treacher- 
 ous." ' 
 
 'All these were you to me.' 
 
 ' Poor mamma was dead, and in her grave 
 at Church Walcot; Clarice was absorbed in 
 Dick Haddon; papa, busy ever with his horses 
 and dogs, could not advise me ; you were ab- 
 sent. Carysfort came, and — and you know 
 the rest.' 
 
 ' Too well, too well,' said Douglas, becom- 
 ing more and more moved, as he heard her 
 voice falter; and with the wild, rash longing 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 263 
 
 to press her to his heart, and to take one last 
 kiss — Carysfort's wife though she was — he 
 gazed at her in silence. 
 
 She patted his arm kindly, and the strong, 
 hardy soldier trembled under the magnetism 
 of her touch. 
 
 Fanny shrunk back, and regarded him 
 earnestly in the moonlight, forgetting for the 
 time the probable awkwardness of Major Ca- 
 rysfort finding them thus — face to face, alone. 
 
 Fanny felt that she had gained the heart 
 of this poor fellow, and that she had become 
 the altar of all his hopes. Thus, she could 
 not be without a deep interest in him; but 
 she felt also a necessity for a little explanation 
 or defence of herself— for both most perilous 
 work. 
 
 ' Pardon me, dear Captain Douglas/ she 
 began falteringly. c My love for you was — 
 what shall I say it was ?' 
 
 ' Not equal, of course, to your love for my 
 supplanter,' he interrupted bitterly. 
 
 c You are pitiless. I can only admit that 
 it was — ' 
 
 4 What — what?' he exclaimed impetuously. 
 
 ' Born, perhaps, of a young girl's vanity, 
 
264 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 in which her fickle heart had but a small share. 
 It is one of the thousand things which happen 
 every day in the great world.' 
 
 ' So much the worse for those who live in 
 the great world. But enough of this — the 
 hour for upbraiding is past.' 
 
 ' And our conversation is becoming some- 
 what peculiar,' said Fanny, with something of 
 her bright coquettish smile. 
 
 It gratified her to find that Gerard loved 
 her still; but she knew too well that the 
 friendship of a man and woman who at any 
 period of their lives have been something more 
 than friends is apt to become a very dangerous 
 friendship indeed. 
 
 4 I don't think Carysfort cares much for 
 me, or how soon I report myself at head- 
 quarters,' said Douglas. 
 
 ' Perhaps not. He cannot but remember 
 the past, and what you were then to me,' 
 continued Fanny, heedless of the 'pins and 
 needles' she was putting into Douglas. 'Ca- 
 rysfort is polite and generous in his bearing. 
 I ought to be happy with him.' 
 
 ' Ought ! I would rather hear you say that 
 you are so.' 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 265 
 
 4 Well, I am happy.' 
 
 Fanny felt it her duty to say this, and by 
 urging it, hoped the assertion might one day 
 become truth. 
 
 8 Forget all the past, Gerard/ said she 
 softly, ' and let us be friends.' 
 
 He shivered at the sound of his name on 
 her lips. 
 
 ' Mrs. Carysfort — Fanny — I can never be 
 your mere friend, from the fact that I was 
 once much more — your passionate lover. Cold 
 and conventional friendship is out of the ques- 
 tion with me.' 
 
 4 Can I listen to this?' she urged reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 1 Pardon me. I am wrong, and forget my- 
 self; but when the heart flies to the head — ' 
 
 c I would to heaven we had never met 
 here, or were parted again, Douglas!' said 
 Fanny, sadly and impressively. 
 
 'Yes, Fanny— again; again, to meet no 
 more, ere worse come of it to me,' said he in 
 a voice that became broken and hollow. ' Oh, 
 Fanny Haywood, I did so love you once [' 
 
 4 And now?' said she, with • irrepressible 
 coquetry. 
 
266 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 C I love you still!' 
 
 But she shrunk from the answer she had 
 invited, saying — 
 
 ' You forget that I dare not listen to words 
 like these.' 
 
 'True— true! Forgive me. I am again 
 forgetting myself, and what is due to you. Oh, 
 may you be happy !' 
 
 After a time Fanny spoke again, but nerv- 
 ously and hurriedly. 
 
 ' Happy ! who laughs as much as I ? Yet, 
 what can I tell you, Gerard, but the old, old 
 story of a marriage in haste and something of 
 repentance at leisure? I should never have 
 treated you as I did; but I was a silly girl. 
 Chandos Carysfort is an irreproachable gen- 
 tleman, but cold and pompous to me. He 
 forgets that " a man's real courtship only be- 
 gins upon his wedding day." Perhaps I am 
 a little too exacting; but so cold is his manner, 
 that there are times when I actually think he 
 — he has ceased to love me.' 
 
 c For heaven's sake, don't say that to me 
 of all men. Fanny — Mrs. Carysfort— you are 
 mad to do so!' 
 
 ' I am not mad, though I may be wrong, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 267 
 
 that so far as habit is concerned our marriage 
 is an ill-assorted one.' 
 
 ' Your own seeking, my poor little Fanny.' 
 
 ' Upbraid me not with that, Gerard, and 
 remember that I was piqued about a bouquet 
 you gave to Isabelle Walmer,' said Mrs. Carys- 
 fort, trembling as he took her hand in his, and 
 feeling that they were drifting fast among the 
 breakers. ' Carysfort,' she resumed, thinking 
 to protect herself by talking about her hus- 
 band, ' is an honourable and upright man, of 
 whom any wife might be proud; but, oh, he 
 is so cold and unsympathetic, and is for ever 
 chiding me for what he terms my " rantipole 
 and hoydenish ways." I think he has for- 
 gotten what love means, while I should like a 
 man, whether my husband or not, to be a 
 lover always.' 
 
 In spite of herself the coquette thus 
 showed her cards. The clasp of Douglas was 
 tightening upon her hands, and lovely, fairy- 
 looking little hands they were. 
 
 4 Can I look Carysfort in the face after all 
 I have admitted, and all I have listened to this 
 night?' she thought in her fluttering heart, 
 which gradually filled with a new terror, and 
 
268 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 the consciousness that she must withdraw at 
 once, for too well did she know that t the 
 woman who hesitates is lost.' 
 
 Was she about to fall, as so many others 
 have fallen? Dared Douglas seek to entrap — 
 Oh, no; he loved her wildly, hopelessly still. 
 She was safe with him as with a brother ; but 
 she must avoid him, poor fellow — she felt the 
 necessity for that. 
 
 She withdrew her hands in succession, nnd 
 as she did so, gave a nervous start — almost a 
 cry of terror, when the voice of Major Carys- 
 fort said, close by — 
 
 'A lovely night, Douglas!' 
 
 4 Wonderfully so ; but you forget we are 
 in the tropics,' stammered Gerard. 
 
 ' 1 have been forgetting more than that,' 
 said the major, with a calm, cold smile. 
 
 He had a cigar in his mouth, and his 
 frogged coat was thrown open for coolness. 
 
 Fanny passed her arm through his, and 
 felt utterly crushed. How much or how little 
 of their conversation had he heard ? 
 
 Douglas felt for her deeply, feeling that 
 he had selfishly lured the spotless young wife 
 into a false position. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 269 
 
 'Beware of the dew, Mrs. Carysfort,' said 
 the major, 'and favour me by retiring soon, 
 as we shall start from this by daybreak. Allow 
 me to lead you indoors. Adieu — ta-ta, Cap- 
 tain Douglas !' 
 
 And bowing to that officer, whom he left 
 in a somewhat bewildered position, Carysfort, 
 cool in bearing, perfectly polite and unmoved, 
 smiling suavely, marched off with his scared 
 and palpitating little wife, whose face of almost 
 perpetual sunshine was now pale, and blanched 
 with actual terror. 
 
 So, luckily, perhaps, Douglas did not get 
 the kiss for w^hich his soul was yearning. 
 
 ' I fear we are both in a deuce of a mess — 
 poor Fanny and I,' muttered Gerard, after he 
 had told me all that had passed. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Heavy rains, succeeded by an intense heat, 
 which exhaled vast clouds of snow-white 
 steam from the green forests and great sa- 
 vannahs, detained us four days at the Dutch 
 village — a longer period than we had calcu- 
 lated on. 
 
 The little community there were so de- 
 lighted with my prowess in ridding them of 
 the terrible tree leopard that they offered, by 
 the voice of Piet van der Meulen, the head 
 man of the village, otherwise known as Dick- 
 wang, or double-chin, a tribute of four hun- 
 dred rix-dollars in exchange for his hide, 
 which they meant to nail on the church door, 
 as the Scots used to nail the skins of the van- 
 quished Danes in the times of old ; but this 
 offer I declined, of course. Moreover, the 
 skin was the property of Clarice, who thought 
 now that much of her future life might hinge 
 on the gift, and valued it accordingly. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 271 
 
 From Clarice I learned that since my de- 
 parture — flight it was nearly — from creditors 
 who rent and divided among them piecemeal 
 the proceeds of my commission and all I pos- 
 sessed, Mrs. Prudence Grubb had remained in 
 quiet possession of my estate of Haddonrig, 
 and that on her babe — supposed to be the 
 bantling of some confederate — she had be- 
 stowed the name of my worthy uncle Halbert. 
 
 It had proved a most successful, and, for 
 her, a lucrative conspiracy, which, as I was 
 now in funds, I did not despair of demolishing 
 before a Scottish court of law. 
 
 1 Life,' said the sanctimonious Mrs. Grubb, 
 'was but a sinful — yea, and a dreary pilgrim- 
 age on earth;' so, to the great disappointment 
 of the Rev. Benjamin Boreham, of the Taber- 
 nacle, she had taken to her bosom as a com- 
 panion on the said pilgrimage, old Bob Bag- 
 shot, my uncle's gamekeeper, the same who 
 had been my ally in the serious conflict with 
 Mark Sharkeigh, the poacher. 
 
 Great was the surprise of Clarice when I 
 informed her that I had reason to believe — 
 indeed, that I scarcely doubted — that I had 
 recently grappled with and been face to face 
 
272 SHALL I WIN HEli ? 
 
 with Mark Sharkeigh during that affair in the 
 kloof where our sentinels were assassinated, 
 and that he was now a leader among the out- 
 lawed Bushmen. 
 
 I told her also what I had amassed and 
 was possessed of; that I was now rich, com- 
 paratively speaking — richer far than I could 
 ever have been, even had I remained at home 
 as the laird of Haddonrig ; that wealth had 
 flowed almost unbidden and unsought upon 
 me, for till now I had valued it not, but it 
 was the result of many perilous expeditions 
 and bold speculations; and now I began to 
 think that, instead of going to the front to 
 fight the insurgent Caffres as a nameless 
 volunteer, and as such, perhaps, to leave my 
 bones to the kites and jackals of the Amatolas, 
 it would be wiser to return quietly back to 
 Cape Town, get married, and take a passage 
 by the first eligible steamer bound for Europe. 
 
 She blushed softly with pleasure, and 
 looking timidly up at me, said, after a time : 
 
 'And poor little Fanny? Must I, then, 
 leave her at last 7 
 
 The surmise was an assent to my proposi- 
 tion, and made my heart beat happy. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 273 
 
 ' Fanny has her husband,' I suggested. 
 
 ' True ; and in this wide world I have but 
 you.' 
 
 In her photographic album I found my 
 old, half-faded vignette still occupying the 
 place of honour opposite to her own. So 
 Clarice had never forgotten me. 
 
 So passed the first day,- during which the 
 ceaseless rain descended like one vast and 
 blinding sheet of water on the mountains and 
 plains, to gorge the rivers that tore through 
 the narrow rocky kloofs and ravines, bearing 
 trees and stones, and even drowned animals — 
 baboons, antelopes, and sheep — into the sa- 
 vannahs. 
 
 During our immurement in the house of 
 Mynheer van Bommel, I had some difficulty 
 in keeping my temper with Major Carysfort, 
 who treated me with cutting coldness and 
 hauteur, and whom I overheard say very de- 
 liberately to Clarice, in his supercilious way : 
 
 'Miss Haywood, I crave a word with you.' 
 
 Clarice bowed. 
 
 ' I have told you that I dislike your re- 
 duced gentlemen — your shabby genteel people/ 
 
 'Well, sir?' 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 'And whatever this fellow was while in 
 the line — as Douglas assures me on honour 
 he was — he is only a Caffre trader now — half 
 gipsy, half desperado — and his attentions are 
 not to be countenanced by my sister-in-law.' 
 
 'Major Carysfort,' exclaimed Claricehaugh- 
 tily, ' surely I am the best judge of that.' 
 
 'You understand me, Miss Haywood?' 
 
 ' Not quite.' 
 
 ' Once in camp or quarters/ continued the 
 major, without heeding her, 'he shall be paid 
 for his infernal waggon and team — I shall in- 
 sist upon it — and he shall not be permitted to 
 pass within our line of sentries. I can see to 
 that, at least.' 
 
 He was her brother-in-law, he had both 
 military authority and rank, while I had nei- 
 ther now, and though I had every inclination 
 to pull his nose or knock him down, I ap- 
 peared not to hear all this, though it came 
 to me plainly enough through the Venetian 
 blind of an open window, as I sat in the 
 verandah without, to all appearance absorbed 
 in the columns of a tattered Cape Argus fully 
 three months old. 
 
 During these days of continued rain, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 275 
 
 Fanny seldom appeared amongst us, save at 
 dinner. 
 
 On the third day, during this meal, the 
 major said to her rather pointedly, 
 
 1 Do you remember, Mrs. Carysfort, what 
 anniversary to-morrow is?' 
 
 ' No, Chandos dear,' said she, starting as 
 from a reverie. 
 
 4 Think, please.' 
 
 'I am doing so, but vainly.' 
 
 ' Think again,' said the major, nearly 
 frowning. 
 
 4 The Queen's birthday, perhaps. I know 
 it occurs in May.' 
 
 c It is the anniversary of our marriage, 
 Mrs. Carysfort.' 
 
 c Oh, I had quite forgotten it — pardon me, 
 Chandos dear!' she exclaimed, and springing 
 up, gave the stately major a kiss on each 
 cheek very prettily and gracefully. 
 
 'Now, weally, to forget your — aw, aw — 
 marriage, by Jove!' blundered Mr. Graves. 
 
 The amende was all right and proper, yet 
 these kisses made Douglas wince in his seat, 
 and raise his glass of wine to his eye as if to 
 test its tint and quality. 
 
276 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 Douglas acknowledged to me that he felt 
 all the awkwardness of meeting Carysfort 
 now more than ever, especially in a circle so 
 limited as ours. He feared also that he had 
 placed Fanny in a false position, and blaming 
 himself therefor, repeated the lines of Scott, 
 
 1 Oh, what a tangled web we weave, 
 When first, we practise to deceive !' 
 
 ' Thank heaven, however, it was no worse,' 
 he added. 'I shall avoid the sweet tempta- 
 tion of her society for the future ; for when 
 in it I risk my own happiness, and may play 
 with her honour, which is dear to me as life 
 itself — yes, dear as it can be even to her cold 
 and pompous husband — my dear Fanny, with 
 her pretty nez retrousse — her irresistible little 
 nose!' he continued, somewhat comically, amid 
 his grief. 
 
 It was only too evident that every word 
 she had said on that night in the verandah, 
 and every rash and fatal admission she had 
 made, were burning deep into the loving 
 heart of Gerard Douglas. For nearly two en- 
 tire days she secluded herself in her room to 
 avoid him, and though Carysfort was suave 
 and smiling, as usual, Douglas had about him 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 277 
 
 a consciousness that there was a hitch in their 
 intercourse, and this emotion made him ab- 
 stracted and taciturn. 
 
 The apparently placid coolness with which 
 Major Carysfort, feeling himself, doubtless, 
 master of the position, viewed the renewed 
 intimacy of Fanny and Douglas — a placidity 
 which grew out of his own self-esteem or his 
 perfect confidence in her — only seemed to 
 pique the little coquette. 
 
 She began to deem him indifferent as well 
 as cold and unsympathetic. 
 
 'Ah,' thought she, ' Carysfort does not 
 know — perhaps never knew — what true love 
 is; yet I jilted — horrid word — poor Gerard 
 to marry him V 
 
 So a perilous time came once or twice 
 on the third day of our detention at the vil- 
 lage, when her fairy fingers lingered almost 
 lovingly in the hand of Douglas, and when 
 their glances and half-uttered sentences be- 
 came confidential and intelligible to them- 
 selves alone. Daily association was remind- 
 ing her of the old love, that he had never for- 
 gotten, and propinquity was doing the rest. 
 The volatile Fanny had expected her calm 
 
278 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 and stately husband to be after marriage, as 
 a recent writer says, c only an improved edi- 
 tion of a lover,' and finding him altogether 
 different — a creature who accepted her affec- 
 tion as a matter of course, and was often dis- 
 agreeably candid — she concluded all at once 
 that she was no longer beloved, and that her 
 life was desolate. 
 
 Perhaps she had not quite arrived at this 
 fatal conclusion, but she was drifting fast to- 
 wards it, and hence the silent tenderness, 
 the unuttered love, of Gerard Douglas — that 
 grave, handsome, and winning soldier, with 
 his three medals glittering on his breast — was 
 most soothing to her pique and sense of ima- 
 ginary wrong. 
 
 'If he weans me from Carysfort,' said 
 Fanny, as she reclined on the breast of Cla- 
 rice, and shed a torrent of remorseful tears. 
 1 Oh, Clarice darling, if he weans me from 
 poor Carysfort on one hand, and revives my 
 old love for himself on the other, what can 
 come of our meeting — our so-called friend- 
 ship?' 
 
 i Kemorse and misery. Avoid him, I say/ 
 
 c But how to do so ?' . 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 279 
 
 1 Come back with me to Cape Town, which 
 we should never have left — yet in that case I 
 had not met Richard Haddon.' 
 
 'Oh, Clarice — to leave Chandos?' 
 
 ' In the arrangements for my marriage, my 
 sweet pet sister, I shall find you a hundred 
 employments.' 
 
 'How am I to return? I much wish to 
 do so; for do you know, Clarice, that I am 
 beginning to fear his power over my heart? 
 And yet, good soul, honest and true Douglas, 
 he does not exert it.' 
 
 c The risk must not be run. Cling to me, 
 Fanny love,' said Clarice, laying Mrs. Carys- 
 fort's soft face caressingly on her own beau- 
 tiful breast. l Though married, I can never 
 look upon you otherwise than as the little 
 romp of Walcot — the spoiled pet of our dear 
 dead papa.' 
 
 ' Even as you, Clarice, were the pet of our 
 good mamma.' 
 
 And the affectionate girls kissed each other 
 tenderly. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 That night the sky cleared a little, and I went 
 forth into the street of the little village alone, 
 to smoke a quiet cigar and think over my 
 plans for the future. 
 
 Dreams of joy were in my head; my heart 
 teemed with great happiness, and I thought 
 of my marriage with the long-lost Clarice. 
 Could it be possible that such a sudden event 
 
 was actually on the tapis ? 
 
 The monetary ability to do this had been 
 the result of my own industry, and system of 
 bold and adventurous trading and bartering 
 with the CaiFres. 
 
 To continue our progress towards the 
 Amatolas was more than useless — would be 
 worse than useless for Clarice and me. Then, 
 for some miles on the other side of Graham's 
 Town, I knew the country to be infested by 
 insurgent CafFres, black deserters, Tronkvolk, 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 281 
 
 Bushmen, outlawed boors, and the fierce and 
 active savages of the Amaponda tribes. Hence 
 an escort for us would be necessary. 
 
 Probably Major Carysfort would not give 
 me the sergeant and ten Cape Riflemen ; and 
 if he did so, could I trust them? Serious 
 misgivings had occurred about these sable 
 warriors of Queen Victoria. Desertions from 
 the corps had been pretty numerous since the 
 insurrection began ; and I had observed with 
 considerable uneasiness that during the three 
 past days of our detention at the Dutch vil- 
 lage, the bearing of those who accompanied 
 us had been rather sullen, disorderly, and 
 mutinous. 
 
 I felt that our best and chief security was, 
 of course, Douglas's detachment of Hi^h- 
 landers. Could Clarice and I ever reach 
 Graham's Town, an escort from the little gar- 
 rison in Fort England might have been spared 
 us; but what to do, opposed as 1 was certain 
 to be by Major Carysfort, I knew not, and in 
 great perplexity I continued to walk, lost in 
 thought. 
 
 In an empty cottage Douglas, by Carys- 
 fort's orders, had established a species of quar- 
 
282 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 ter-guard, with a sentinel at the door; and 
 when the rain ceased, another on the road 
 beyond, and therein were two of our Cape 
 escort confined as prisoners, for striking Ser- 
 geant Robert Burns, of the 74th Highlanders, 
 when in the execution of his duty— two wor- 
 thies who bore the names of Jan Cupido and 
 Zwart Hendrick. 
 
 Beyond this quarter-guard the road led 
 onward to the bridge, by which the river is 
 crossed, and then the way is, or was, bordered 
 by thick hedges of quince. Full of my own 
 thoughts, in which so much that was happi- 
 ness mingled with perplexity, I passed the 
 sentinel unquestioned, and strolled on farther 
 than, perhaps, was quite safe — a mile or so — 
 till the disappearance of the moon behind a 
 cloud made me think of returning. 
 
 The sound of a violin in a thicket, which 
 was bordered by the quince hedge, made me 
 pause, for the air played was one with which 
 I was familiar and fond of humming. It was, 
 in fact, the ' Remembrance' of Clarice, and the 
 player was undoubtedly Adrian Africander, 
 who had picked it up from me. 
 
 What was he doing there at that hour? 
 
SHALL I WIN HER ? 283 
 
 Had lie picked up another Hottentot Venus, 
 as he had done at Cradock? 
 
 He played a few bars of the air, and then 
 paused. He repeated this performance so 
 often, playing over the same notes, that I be- 
 gan to suspect he was making signals ; and 
 this seemed conclusive when a low but clear 
 whistle came out of a field of maize, and from 
 under the shade of a large tree which con- 
 cealed me I could see a man enter the thicket, 
 which was composed of wild cedars and yel- 
 low-wood trees. 
 
 The stranger was tall, powerful, and active 
 in form ; he carried a long musket on his 
 shoulder, a hunting or bowie-knife, a powder- 
 horn of such a size as the skull of an African 
 ox alone can produce, and a brace of pistols 
 at his girdle. A broad straw hat was flopped 
 over his face, with a short ostrich feather and 
 a meerschaum pipe stuck into the band of it. 
 He had a Caffre kaross, or robe of leopard 
 skin, over his shoulders ; his trousers and 
 feldt-schoen were otherwise like those of a 
 colonist, and I had the entire conviction that 
 the man was a European, and no stranger to 
 me. 
 
284 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 ' "By the pricking of my thumbs," ' thought 
 I, i something strange is up to-night.' 
 
 Curious to know what was goino- forward, 
 and why my faithful knecht of the team and 
 jambok should hold a secret meeting with any 
 one, I carefully extinguished my cigar, and 
 true to my hunter instincts and bushrang- 
 ing life, knelt on my hands and knees. Lower 
 still — I actually crept on my face softly 
 through the hedge among the long, rank grass 
 and luxuriant weeds, and drew near to listen, 
 though in doing so I was sorely worried by 
 the uncouth noises of a colony of parrots which 
 occupied a cameldoorn tree. 
 
 Africander and the stranger were convers- 
 ing together, but in such low tones that only 
 scraps reached me ; but these scraps were suf- 
 ficiently alarming to make me desire to learn 
 more. I dared not go too close, for, unluckily, 
 I was without arms, and I soon heard enough 
 to convince me that if, by speaking or moving, 
 I was discovered, instant death would be my 
 doom, for the person with whom the treacher- 
 ous Hottentot now intrigued was no other 
 than- Mark Graaif, with the livid scar upon 
 his face — or, as I began to be assured, Mark 
 
SHALL I WIN HEU ? 285 
 
 Sharkeiodi — for it soon became evident that 
 
 o 
 
 they were one and the same man. 
 
 c Der teufel hab dich,' said Adrian, with a 
 grin; c de man who get de better ob Baas 
 Richard must rise early in de morning, I can 
 tell you — ya, ya!' 
 
 ' I shall do so, even if I don't go to bed at 
 all, my fine fellow,' replied Mark, with a ter- 
 rible oath. i And so the skellum has sold all 
 his diamonds, has he?' 
 
 1 Ya, Baas Mark, ebbery one.' 
 
 c Has he the money — value, I mean — about 
 him?' 
 
 <Ya,ya.' 
 
 1 How — in bags?' 
 
 ' In baber.' 
 
 'Paper be hanged. These are bills, I sup- 
 pose. Der teufel's braden !' roared Mark, who 
 had evidently picked up several Dutch words 
 during his colonial experiences. c AVhat arms 
 has he got — belonging to the waggon, I mean?' 
 
 Africander scratched his woolly head. 
 
 1 Dree double-barrelled rifles, dwo grooved, 
 and a single-barrelled German rifle, and an 
 elephant gun, all in de ole waggon.' 
 
 'And the ammunition?— speak, quick!* 
 
286 SHALL I WIN HER ? 
 
 cried Sharkeigh, who seemed to be partially 
 intoxicated. 
 
 1 Yon hondrecl veight powder and shot.' 
 
 ' Good ; that will do in the meantime, the 
 rest can follow. Ach, Gott, what is that?' 
 exclaimed Mark Sharkeigh, with a ready hand 
 on his knife, for the damp grass among which 
 I lay caused me to sneeze, and I gave myself 
 over for lost. 
 
 1 Bah ! Only a springhaan vogel in de wet 
 bushes.' 
 
 But some uncertainty as to the nature of 
 the sound caused them to move a few yards 
 farther off, thus only scraps of their conver- 
 sation reached me ; yet I could hear the names 
 of Jan Cupido, Jan Kok, Zwart Hendrick, and 
 others, which I knew to be borne by the ten 
 men of the Cape escort who accompanied us; 
 and these were mentioned repeatedly. 
 
 4 What the deuce is up?' thought I. 'What 
 does all this interest in my affairs mean ?' 
 
 Alas ! that I was to learn ere long, when 
 it was all too late ! 
 
 I now remembered Africander's knowledge 
 of Sandilli, and how cunningly he had per- 
 mitted him to be beyond the reach of pursuit 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 287 
 
 before informing us of who the rescued Caffre 
 was ; and now he was leaguing with Shar- 
 keigh — Mark GraafF, the bushranger, the fugi- 
 tive convict, the perpetrator of a thousand 
 outrages ; and yet until now this Africander 
 had been most faithful to me, and had stood 
 by my side bravely in many a perilous en- 
 counter with wild animals, and in many a 
 bloody brawl with the natives and bushmen ; 
 but somehow, even in the more civilised world, 
 there is too often 'beneath the great and broad 
 surface of this life of ours, with its impulses 
 and motives, another stratum of hard and 
 stern realities, in which selfish motives and 
 interested actions have their sphere.' 
 
 Anyway he was acting with gross trea- 
 chery, and I resolved to have him arrested 
 quietly in the morning, and force him, with a 
 cold pistol barrel at his ear, to confess all. 
 
 Much more conversation, in a low, almost 
 whispering voice, ensued, and I heard the 
 clink of rix-dollars as Mark Sharkeigh — for 
 so I shall in future call him— dropped them 
 into the Hottentot's dingy paws, after which 
 they prepared to separate. 
 
 'Repeat all I have said, and Sandilli's 
 
288 SHALL I WIN HER? 
 
 promises, to those skellums, the Cape Rifle- 
 men.' 
 
 c Der teufel, that will I. And you will be 
 in clime?' 
 
 'Time? Shan't we? You shall see!' 
 
 'Ach, wo ha neuxel !' said the Hottentot, 
 with a diabolical grin. l Een wenig tee laat, 
 veel te laat,' he added, using the Dutch pro- 
 verb, which means, ' A little too late is a deal 
 too late.' 
 
 'We shall be there to a moment' 
 
 And now they separated. 
 
 c There,' I muttered. c Could I but learn 
 where, and about what !' 
 
 So my friend Adrian Africander could 
 swear by the devil, though he believed in no 
 deity or Divine power, save the spirit Humma, 
 who caused the rain to fall, the winds to blow, 
 and gave alternate cold and heat. 
 
 It was nearly the midnight hour now, and 
 with my heart filled by anxiety and rage I 
 crept out of my hiding place, and hastened 
 back to the village. 
 
 I asked the sentries if my Hottentot had 
 just passed in, and both assured me that he 
 had. 
 
SHALL I WIN HER? 289 
 
 Douglas was smoking a cigar in the ve- 
 randah, but all our other friends had retired 
 for the night. I told him all I had heard, and 
 the necessity for additional precaution caused 
 him to get half his party out of their billets, 
 accoutred, and placed at the quarter-guard. 
 
 A search was made for Adrian Africander, 
 but that sable functionary could nowhere be 
 discovered; and when morning came I found 
 that he had levanted before daybreak, taking 
 away with him all my rifles, all my ammuni- 
 tion and tobacco, my two best bridles, and 
 many other things. 
 
 So, true to his savage nature, he had de- 
 ceived and completely outwitted me in the 
 end. 
 
 Yet, unhappily this loss was not the end ! 
 
 end or VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.T7.