War to the Knife 39
At such a momentous ordeal, when his letters were given to Massinger,
one came in the well-known hand of Mrs. Merivale, _née_ Branksome.
Putting the collection into his pocket without trace of excitement,
he wended his way to his tent, where, seating himself, he opened the
envelope, and read as follows:--
"MY DEAR SIR ROLAND,
"As Harry sees all your letters, and occasionally criticizes mine
from a man's point of view (terribly wrong, as I always tell
him), I may without indiscretion supply the possessive prefix.
Sounds quite learned, doesn't it? Besides, ten--or is it not
twelve?--thousand miles' distance prevents a hint of impropriety
in our correspondence. After all this explanation, I proceed to say
'How do you do?' How are you getting on in that most unpleasant war,
which would be ludicrous if it were not so dangerous, and into which
you seem to have rushed for no conceivable reason, but because you
disapprove and have no earthly interest connected with it? Talk of
man being a rational being, indeed!
"He often argues like one, but how rarely--almost never, indeed--does
he _act_ in accordance with his theories!
"However, like all decent Englishmen embarked in a quarrel, you are
bound in honour to go through with it. The question which perplexes
your friends--and you have a few, rather more than the average,
indeed--is _why_ you should have gone into it at all. I am not going
to say 'Que le diable, etc.'--by the way, I ought to have stopped at
the 'Que'--but we all _think so_!
"One exhausts one's self in trying to find a cause (reason, of
course, there is none) for this effect; that is, for your migration
to the 'other side of the world,' as Jean Ingelow has it in that dear
song of hers. I have been reading German philosophy lately, and now
know that you must go much further back than is generally thought
necessary for people's tastes and dispositions, principles, and
actions.
"This, then, would be the formula. First, Hypatia's parents, or one
of them, having, on account of some accidental family trait, bestowed
upon her an abnormally altruistic nature.
"Then they proceed to furnish her with a shamefully superior and
unnecessary education, developing her intellect at the expense
of her common sense, so that she feels herself vowed to the social
advancement of the masses (as if they are not even now unpleasantly
close to the classes). This by the way.
"Cause No. 2: Strenuous attempts to move the social fabric, with the
usual effect--loss of health and failure of 'mission,' self-dedicated.
"Cause No. 3: Her refusal of the 'plain duty of womanhood,' and
so on, which wrecks _your_ career, as far as we can see, without
improving her own. However, she will doubtless plead that 'her
intentions were good.' Harry, who has been looking over my shoulder
(most improperly, I tell him), comes out with, 'D--n her intentions!'
(or words to that effect). 'Women always say so when they've made a
more destructive muddle of things than usual!' He has now been chased
out of the room, so I proceed to finish my letter in peace.
"As it _is_ nearing the end, I may treat you to a bit of news which
you may regard as more important than the whole of the preceding
despatch. Our mutual friend has a dearest chum in New Zealand, to
whom she is devoted--the wife of a missionary clergyman. They live
in your shockingly disturbed district, where for some years they
have been converting the heathen with gratifying results. This Mary
Summers is the best of young women, and, when she is not making
'moral pocket 'ankerchers,' writes to our Hypatia. I don't want to
be irreverent (Harry says--well, never mind; but he doesn't like
that kind of thing--says it's bad form), only the temptation was
irresistible. Well, where was I? Oh! she says 'the field' is most
interesting; the Maoris are a noble race--ten times more worthy of
a life's devotion than our slum savages, and so on. Well, Hypatia,
being discouraged about _them_, appears to me to incline to a Maori
crusade. So that it is _possible_--mind, I go no further--that one of
these days you might see 'the--er--one loved name,' or 'once loved,'
as the case might be, in a passenger list.
"More wonderful things have happened before now, and I certainly
_did_ find her reading 'Ranulf and Amohia' the other day.
"It is really _dreadful_ the length of this letter of mine. However,
I must tell you a little news. Your successor at Massinger Court has
got on very well with the county. Just at first, of course, people,
after the manner of our cautious country-folk, fought shy of them.
After a while, however, they were voted 'nice,' especially after Lord
Lake, an ex-Governor, and his wife, Lady Maud, came down to stay with
them, and it leaked out that they were related to the Lexingtons of
Saxmundham. Not that _they_ mentioned the fact. Harry says the son is
a capital fellow--rides, shoots, hunts, in most proper style, quiet
in manner, but amusing, and plays polo and cricket better than most
men.
"The girls, too, are pretty and pleasant, great at tennis and
archery, besides being musical. The father subscribes liberally
to the county charities, and is hand-and-glove with the parson,
who says he is unusually well read. So you are in danger of being
forgotten--do you hear, sir?--and serve you right, by all but _a
very few_, who still think occasionally of the _rightful owner_ of
Massinger Court and Chase; among whom I am proud to enrol myself,
and (this _is_ the last sheet) remain
"Always yours very sincerely,
"ELIZABETH MERIVALE."
* * * * *
The dawn was breaking on the morning of a cold and gusty day, as the
shivering men of the No. 2 Company of the Forest Rangers were drying
themselves at an indifferent fire, when Warwick held up a warning hand.
"Some one coming."
Mr. Slyde lifted his rifle carelessly, and remarked, "A morning call.
One of our scouts, or a _toa_ bent on death or glory. He should have
come last night, when we were too tired to cook supper; now I feel as
if a brush with the 'hostiles' would revive me."
"It's no native," affirmed Warwick. "He has boots on, and is walking
too fast for a surprise party. Here he comes."
As he spoke, the bush parted, and a plainly dressed man in dark clothes
walked rapidly across the open ground in front of the camp.
"By Jove, it's the bishop!" said Mr. Slyde. Then advancing, he
bowed, and in deeply respectful tones greeted the apostolic prelate
who departed so seriously from the modern manner of bishops of the
Established Church.
"I am afraid, my lord, that you have had an uncomfortable journey; you
must have started early if you came from Pukerimu."
"Comfort and I have long been at odds," said the stranger--for it was
indeed George Augustus Selwyn, the famous Bishop of New Zealand, who
stood there drenched to the skin, with the water dripping from his
garments--"and will be until this unhappy war is over. The fact is,
that I heard through a native convert that the missionaries at Ohaupo
were in danger, so I started at midnight to warn them. The creek was
flooded, or I should not have looked so much like a drowned rat."
Massinger, who had been gazing intently at the devoted Churchman of
whom he had heard such wondrous stories--tales of his courage, his
athletic feats, his influence among the natives, his eloquence, his
tender treatment of the wounded on both sides--was lost in admiration
as he gazed at the expressive countenance, so noble in its simplicity.
He now came forward with an offer of a change of garments.
"My friend, Lieutenant Massinger," said Mr. Slyde, introducing him. "He
has only joined recently, and, indeed, is but lately from England."
"Massinger of the Court? Surely not!" said the bishop, with an air
of much interest. "How strange that we should meet thus! I knew your
people well before I left England. I will not ask you how you came to
be thus engaged, but must content myself with declining your courteous
offer. We are all in one boat as to discomfort. I am only bearing my
share of the common burden; and, indeed, I believe that were I to
trouble my head about these trifling privations, I should lose my
robust health, and, like some of my poor native parishioners, become a
prey to ordinary ailments."
At this stage of the interview an orderly arrived with a pressing
invitation from the senior officer of the Forest Rangers, who trusted
that his lordship would not delay joining their mess at breakfast;
so, with a hearty __EXPRESSION__ of thanks and adieu, this devoted soldier
of the Church Militant departed with the orderly, every soldier within
sight saluting as he passed.
"That's a _man_, if you like!" said Mr. Slyde. "If there were more like
him, no other religion would have a chance with ours. Travelled on foot
from coast to coast--in all weathers, too. Night or day, high water or
low, hot or cold, all alike to him. Opposed to the war, too, back and
edge. Government taken his advice, never have broken out."
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기