War to the Knife 54

War to the Knife 54

But for this forest nymph, so sweet, so strong, so impossible to

condemn, how differently even yet might their romance have ended! But

the knight was in the toils of the Queen of Faerye, and to Elfland he

must fare, under pain of death, or transformation to a being that even

_she_ could not recognize. A creature false to his plighted troth,

ungrateful to the girl who had saved his life at the risk of her own,

whose love he had won. A love not transient and fleeting, like so many

affected by the women of his race, founded upon vanity, ambition, greed

of wealth or rank, but changeless, immortal, strong as death, true to

the grave, even to the dark realm beyond it.

 

Hypatia had probed and purified her heart, and she felt, though she

loved him now with a force and passionate feeling hitherto unsuspected,

that she could not for worlds have accepted his hand, even had he

offered it.

 

They were now two different people. She, after trial, change, and the

bitterness of lost illusions, had vowed herself to the life-devotion

which succeeds the sanguine expectation of mighty work among the

heathen. He, the haggard, war-worn soldier, sick unto death and sore

wounded--ah! so unlike the trim sportsman and correctly attired country

gentleman of the old half-forgotten life.

 

He was the first to speak. She gazed on him with the pitying tenderness

of womanhood shining through her troubled eyes.

 

"A strange meeting, Miss Tollemache, in a strange land!" he said, with

a brave attempt to smile. "Rather a change from Hereford here! Who

would have thought of seeing _you_ here, of all people?"

 

She made haste to reply, lest the unshed tears should resist all

efforts to control them. She would have thrown herself on her knees by

the side of his couch and clasped his wasted hand, had she dared to

give vent to her feelings. Then she spoke lightly, though her mouth

quivered with the effort.

 

"Isn't it hard to say where you may fall in with any given man, or

woman either, if it comes to that, in these exciting days?"

 

"Certainly you are the last person I ever expected to see here," he

made answer, half musingly. "In New Zealand of all places, and at this

particular mission station!"

 

"It is easy of explanation. I was tired of London life--disillusioned,

if you will. You prophesied it, you may remember; and hearing from my

old schoolfellow, Mary Summers, that she was hard pressed for help in

her work, took my passage, and here I am."

 

"So I see," he replied gravely. "And from what I have heard lately, I

heartily wish that you were anywhere else."

 

"But, surely, if there be danger--and I suppose you mean that--I have

no more right to be shielded than another."

 

"Mrs. Summers, whom I deeply respect, has followed her husband in the

path of a plain duty. But why _you_, without ties or adequate reason,

should have volunteered for this forlorn hope, I cannot comprehend. It

is the personal sacrifice which has a charm for some women, I suppose,"

he went on.

 

"And for some men," she retorted, "else why should _you_ be here,

wounded almost to the death in a quarrel in which you had no share,

and which I believe in my heart you consider unjust. When will men

come to understand that women differ widely among themselves, and are

attracted, even as they are, by novelty and adventure?"

 

"Mine is only a man's answer, and scarcely logical either, but it

is the best I have. I came to New Zealand because I could not live

in England. Like you, I had lost a world of hope, trust, and fond

illusion. This war was commenced without my consent or support, but

finding myself between two camps, I chose the British one."

 

"It was very natural," she said with a sigh. "But tell me of yourself.

How were you wounded, and why did you not remain at the camp?"

 

"I should have remained there altogether," he said, with a flickering

smile, "had it not been for Erena and her two cousins. We met with a

reverse at the Gate Pah, and every man that fell near me was tomahawked

within two minutes. These girls rushed in through a hail of bullets

and dragged me into the high fern, where I lay safely until some of

the Ngapuhi joined them. They carried me to a cave only known to the

tohunga and a few individuals of the tribe."

 

"And after that?"

 

"I found next morning that the bleeding had been stopped and the wound

bandaged. Since then I have been terribly weak, but am now recovering

slowly, _very_ slowly. To-day I feel better than I have done for some

time past. I shall pick up as soon as we reach the shore."

 

"May God grant it," she replied. "If it was through any act of mine

that you quitted home and friends, I should feel that your blood was

on my head. When I think of your renunciation, I cannot help doubting

whether any woman is worth the sacrifice. And now we must say farewell.

You are to leave at dawn, I hear; so if we are doomed never to meet

again, think kindly of Hypatia Tollemache, and believe that you have

her best wishes, her prayers."

 

As she spoke she held out her hand, which he clasped in his; so thin

and wasted was it that the tears rose to her eyes. He pressed his lips

passionately to it, and relinquished the slender fingers with a sigh.

 

It was late when Erena returned. The little household was assembled

at the evening meal when she entered the room, and, declining to join

the repast, stood with a countenance troubled and darkly boding before

she spoke. So might Cassandra, as she stood before the Trojan host in

high-walled Ilion.

 

"Bad news!" she said abruptly. "So bad that it could hardly be worse.

This Hau-Hau sect is gaining ground. They are carrying round Captain

Boyd's head to stir up the tribes; they have murdered Mr. Volkner, and

are marching towards the coast. No one can tell where they will strike

next."

 

The countenances of the women blanched as this announcement was made.

Mr. Summers, though visibly affected, preserved his composure, as he

asked where the dreadful deed took place.

 

"At Opotiki," said Erena. "He came in a vessel, though he was warned

not to do so. He and Mr. Grace, another missionary, were at once taken

prisoners, and Mr. Volkner was hanged on a willow tree by Kereopa; the

tribe assenting."

 

"Is there any chance of their coming here?" said Mr. Summers. "We have

never had the slightest altercation with the tribes. I have been here

since 1850, and every thought of my heart, every word from my lips, has

been with the object of their benefit. No chief would permit such an

outrage, such an unheard-of crime."

 

"You do not know Kereopa," replied Erena. "He is one of those natives

who go perfectly mad when their blood is up, and think no more of

killing any man, woman, or child near him than you people do of

wringing the neck of a _kea_. Besides, Te Ua, who has declared himself

to be a prophet, boasts of a message from the angel Gabriel, that the

sword of the Lord and Gideon is committed into the hands of the Pai

Marire, with which to smite the pakeha and the unfaithful Maoris. But I

have sent one who will put Ropata on their track; if _he_ comes up with

them, they will learn more of Old Testament law."

 

"A day of rebuke and blasphemy, murder and outrage," groaned Cyril

Summers. "And is this to be the end of our labours? I feel inclined,

though it is putting one's hand to the plough and turning back, to make

for the coast until matters are more peaceful. What do you intend to

do?"

 

"My people and I, with Mr. Massinger, will start at midnight," said the

girl, decisively. "I wish now that we had left this morning. I implore

of you to leave with your family at the same time."

 

"But the road in the darkness?" said Summers. "The forest is difficult

to thread by daylight."

 

"To our guide," said Erena, "the night is as the day. We shall keep on

steadily until we reach Tauranga."

 

"I am tempted to join forces with you," he said. "But no! we must show

the natives that we believe what we have taught them--that God is able

to save those who trust in Him. Mary, Hypatia, you had better go with

Erena's party, and take the children."

 

The delicate form of Mary Summers seemed to gain height and dignity

as, with all the devoted courage of her "deep love's truth" shining in

her steadfast eyes, she said, "I have but to repeat the words I spoke

in the church where our lives were joined--'till death do us part.' My

place is by you, my darling, here and hereafter. May God protect us all

in this dread hour!"

 

"And Miss Tollemache?" said Erena, addressing Hypatia. "Will _you_ wait

for the coming of the Hau-Haus--to be carried off as a slave, perhaps?"

and here her piercing gaze seemed to read Hypatia's inmost soul. "You

do not know what that means; I do! Taunts and blows, water to draw,

burdens to carry, degradation unspeakable!"

 

The English girl drew herself up and returned the fixed regard of the

daughter of the South with a look as unblenching as her own, ere she

answered, calmly, almost haughtily--

 

"When I promised my friends to be a fellow-labourer with them, I made

no reservations. I have cast in my lot with them, and will share their

fortunes, even to the martyr's death, if it be so ordained."

 

Erena watched her with an __EXPRESSION__ of surprise which changed to frank

admiration.

 

"Farewell, O friends," she said; "may God protect you from all evil. As

for you, you are worthy of his friendship, of his _love_."

 

As she made the last gesture of farewell, she stooped, and taking

Hypatia's unresisting hand, raised it to her lips and glided from the

room.

 

It was no time for sleep. Praying and conversing by turns, the

household awaited the departure of the little band. From the verandah

they watched the bearers emerge from Massinger's room with the couch.

This they placed upon the litter on which he had lain for so many a

weary mile. They saw Erena take her place beside it as the bearers

moved silently away. A dark form glided before them on the narrow path,

the _cortége_ followed through the darksome arches of the forest, and

was swallowed up in the midnight gloom.