Provocations Part 7

She must endure these o'ercharged dragging hours, This th' unspoken horror of her life, The dread that sapped her strength, and drained her powers, The guarded secret of a brave man's wife!

d.i.c.k would come back to-morrow with the light Of morn. But fear would be her Lord to-night.

Beth turned her to the stoep. With sensuous breath The moonflower drenched the garden in its scent, Ardent, voluptuous, and white as death It hung long blossoms, heavy with intent.

The morning glories folded into sleep.

Lay purple in undress, and slumber deep.

Behind the wattles rose the circled moon, Splas.h.i.+ng her silver over poort and track.

The boys went chattering to their kraals, and soon Long shadows ribbed the tent in white and black.

Beth closed the entrance fast, then slowly sped, A lonely woman, to a lonely bed.

Come away, Come away, Come, come, come away, For the moon, For the moon Wove a shroud in the day, All of white, All of white, Which she flings over all In the night, In the night Like a pall, In the night, in the night.

Come away, Come away, Come, come, come away, For the moon, For the moon Threw my blossoms a ray, They are white, Deadly white, And their petals are pale, Wan and light.

Do not fail, Come away--in the night.

Come away, Come away, Come, come, come away, For the moon, For the moon Wove a shroud in the day, And my scent, Oh my scent Which I waft over all, Is of death!

Feel its breath!

And the moon made a pall Which she lent to us all, To us all!

Come away.... Come away, Come, Come, Come....

"Come, come!"--The sleeper moved. An argent shroud Woven with silver cross-st.i.tch into stars.

Was that the moonflower singing from the cloud?

Why were its petals bruised and veined with scars?

"Come!"--It was not the moonflower. Wide awake Beth started up. That voice!--For pity's sake!

That dear loved voice. The midnight echoed clear, Rang with that urgent summons from the veld, That startling premonition. Far and near Cries s.h.i.+vered through her brain. d.i.c.k's voice. She felt It vibrant in her ears. A call, for her.

She sprang up quickly, every sense astir.

Down past the shadowed garden, through the kloof, She knew the way, she followed to the cry.

No stealthy footpad, sound of howl or hoof Could scare her in the awful mystery Of G.o.d-begotten knowledge. d.i.c.k had called, Terrestrial things nor checked her, nor appalled.

"This is the shroud," she murmured. Over all The moon had spread her splendour, cold and white.

"This is the s.h.i.+ning drapery, the pall, This h.o.a.ry sheet of clean pellucid light."

Grasping a small revolver in her hand She hurried on, across the broken land.

A mighty Silence wrapped the veld in dreams.

The breath of night hung in the soundless air.

A wilderness unknown, unconquered streams Lay with the Universe, at one, to dare In majesty of nature, undisturbed The flux of centuries, untrod, uncurbed.

The white world grew before her. Silhouettes Of shadowed kopjes struck against the sky.

The vlei gleamed fitfully. With sharp-edged frets The coa.r.s.e gra.s.s cut the horizon l.u.s.tily.

The dancing moonway on the swollen drift Broke into patterns on the current swift.

Thwarted. Beth stared in piteous dismay.

A frantic river, wild with recent rains, Largened beyond all daring, barred her way.

Flooding the plains, drunk with illicit gains It dashed with savage fury, tossing high Its waters over bank and boundary.

The girl looked anxiously around. Below The river widened, shallowing its bed, Seeming to flow on leisurely and slow.

Above, it narrowed to a ravine, fed By the Fountains. Three bald-headed rocks Stood solemnly midstream on thick-set hocks.

Straightly she turned towards the upper reach.

The portly rocks as old and grey as time Offered a bridge. On past the sunken beach Of unclean ooze, the sea of gathered slime, Across the hunching boulders, where the course Of huddled waters broke their angry force.

Climbing from rock to rock, from crest to crest, She threw her weight upon the further bank Into a clod of mud, whose squelching breast Received her greedily. She seized the rank Wild clumps of herbage with her hands, then strove Until she reached the trusty ridge above.

Over the drift! The whisperings of her soul Soothed every hindrance to a thing of naught.

The billowing veld, its tawny ceaseless roll Was but the highway to the end she sought.

Love was her pilot, and by love controlled Its radiance led her, like the Star of old.

Far to the east a straggling knot of trees Hinted a farm was nestling in their rear, The scent of flowers floated on the breeze, The cattle in their kraals, in safety near Drowsed in the heavy slumber hours of night.

But to the west she hurried, in her flight.

On, on past trackless scrub, where all around Like shapeless monsters bulging heap on heap, Crouched the vast ant heaps on the virgin ground.

And winding in and out them, pressed and deep, Two wheel spoors scarred the earth. She traced the curve The cart had chiselled in a sudden swerve.

With feverish haste she followed line on line Each deep-hewn rut that carved itself in sand.

Here by the grace of heaven was a sign, A way to realise her dream's command, Her instinct's prophecy. G.o.d! what was that?

Rending the Silences with tear and scrat.

Again! That shot! Then all the world lay still, Calm in the deep placidity of strength That recks for nothing human. Pa.s.sive till Man desecrates its hallowed peace at length.

But to that sound she fled. For d.i.c.k lay west, His wide eyes staring, blood upon his breast.

Dead, with his face against the cart-wheel. Dead.

A scarlet river flowing, flowing--oh!

His lips were red, his hands--the plains were red!

She knelt beside him, spoke him loudly so He needs must hear. She bound his wounds in vain, That nerveless heap would never speak again.

Dawn came at last. No need to wail or cry, d.i.c.k was beyond all help, and none would hear.

She clasped him in her full-souled agony, Feeling the young gold morning, fresh and clear, Yet seeing nothing. Stunned to outward things, She only knew the dullness sorrow brings.

And in her numbness heeded not the red Tall gra.s.ses swaying as they bowed and bent Beneath a crawling Kaffir, or his head Rear up, a cringing caterpillar sent To rob the great white Baas; for plenty slow Some white men take to die, as black men know.

But if the Baas were dead, beyond all doubt Slink could be brave. His belly clave the ground.

Had anybody heard the white man's shout, Caught by the kopjes, echoed in rebound?

Ach! how he wriggled! Now the cart was Slink's, The scoff, the silver watch, the fiery drinks.

And look, the mules outspanned were plenty good, So was the stolen gun. He reached the pool Of crimson where the two-wheeled Cape-cart stood.

He slithered nearer, wet in dewdrops cool, His rough patched trousers soaked, then sneaking round Peeped from his vantage to the bleeding ground.

Spooks!--His eyes bulged, down dropped his brutal jaw.

Rooted to where he clung, a-sweat with fright, The cramps of terror gripping at his maw.

Spooks!--Pallid spooks! He shrieked away the sight Till the wide veld was reeling. Blurred and pale A spook arose, to follow on his trail.

It glided nearer, nearer--nearer yet, Tall as the English mysi far away!

His tongue stuck in his throat, and bleeding wet He saw the master sitting up at bay!

He heard his name, he heard the still air crack, Then dropped astonished, wondering, on his back,