Jess - H. Rider Haggard
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JESS
By H. Rider Haggard
First Published 1887.
TO MY WIFE
JESS
CHAPTER I
JOHN HAS AN ADVENTURE
The day had been very hot even for the Transvaal, where the days still
know how to be hot in the autumn, although the neck of the summer is
broken--especially when the thunderstorms hold off for a week or two, as
they do occasionally. Even the succulent blue lilies--a variety of the
agapanthus which is so familiar to us in English greenhouses--hung their
long trumpet-shaped flowers and looked oppressed and miserable, beneath
the burning breath of the hot wind which had been blowing for hours like
the draught from a volcano. The grass, too, near the wide roadway
that stretched in a feeble and indeterminate fashion across the veldt,
forking, branching, and reuniting like the veins on a lady's arm, was
completely coated over with a thick layer of red dust. But the hot wind
was going down now, as it always does towards sunset. Indeed, all that
remained of it were a few strictly local and miniature whirlwinds,
which would suddenly spring up on the road itself, and twist and twirl
fiercely round, raising a mighty column of dust fifty feet or more into
the air, where it hung long after the wind had passed, and then slowly
dissolved as its particles floated to the earth.
Advancing along the road, in the immediate track of one of these
desultory and inexplicable whirlwinds, was a man on horseback. The man
looked limp and dirty, and the horse limper and dirtier. The hot wind
had "taken all the bones out of them," as the Kafirs say, which was
not very much to be wondered at, seeing that they had been journeying
through it for the last four hours without off-saddling. Suddenly the
whirlwind, which had been travelling along smartly, halted, and the
dust, after revolving a few times in the air like a dying top, slowly
began to disperse in the accustomed fashion. The man on the horse halted
also, and contemplated it in an absent kind of way.
"It's just like a man's life," he said aloud to his horse, "coming from
nobody knows where, nobody knows why, and making a little column of dust
on the world's highway, then passing away, leaving the dust to fall to
the ground again, to be trodden under foot and forgotten."
The speaker, a stout, well set-up, rather ugly man, apparently on the
wrong side of thirty, with pleasant blue eyes and a reddish peaked
beard, laughed a little at his own sententious reflection, and then gave
his jaded horse a tap with the _sjambock_ in his hand.
"Come on, Blesbok," he said, "or we shall never get to old Croft's place
to-night. By Jove! I believe that must be the turn," and he pointed with
his whip to a little rutty track that branched from the Wakkerstroom
main road and stretched away towards a curious isolated hill with a
large flat top, which rose out of the rolling plain some four miles to
the right. "The old Boer said the second turn," he went on still talking
to himself, "but perhaps he lied. I am told that some of them think it
is a good joke to send an Englishman a few miles wrong. Let's see, they
told me the place was under the lee of a table-topped hill, about half
an hour's ride from the main road, and that is a table-topped hill, so I
think I will try it. Come on, Blesbok," and he put the tired nag into
a sort of "tripple," or ambling canter much affected by South African
horses.
"Life is a queer thing," reflected Captain John Niel to himself as he
cantered along slowly. "Now here am I, at the age of thirty-four, about
to begin the world again as assistant to an old Transvaal farmer. It is
a pretty end to all one's ambitions, and to fourteen years' work in the
army; but it is what it has come to, my boy, so you had better make the
best of it."
Just then his cogitations were interrupted, for on the farther side of
a gentle slope suddenly there appeared an extraordinary sight. Over the
crest of the rise of land, now some four or five hundred yards away, a
pony with a lady on its back galloped wildly, and after it, with wings
spread and outstretched neck, a huge cock ostrich was speeding in
pursuit, covering twelve or fifteen feet at every stride of its long
legs. The pony was still twenty yards ahead of the bird, and travelling
towards John rapidly, but strive as it would it could not distance the
swiftest thing on all the earth. Five seconds passed--the great bird was
close alongside now--Ah! and John Niel turned sick and shut his eyes as
he rode, for he saw the ostrich's thick leg fly high into the air and
then sweep down like a leaded bludgeon!
_Thud!_ It had missed the lady and struck her horse upon the spine, just
behind the saddle, for the moment completely paralysing it so that it
fell all of a heap on to the veldt. In a moment the girl on its back was
up and running towards him, and after her came the ostrich. Up went the
great leg again, but before it could come crashing across her shoulders
she had flung herself face downwards on the grass. In an instant the
huge bird was on the top of her, kicking at her, rolling over her, and
crushing the very life out of her. It was at this juncture that John
Niel arrived upon the scene. The moment the ostrich saw him it gave up
its attacks upon the lady on the ground and began to waltz towards him
with the pompous sort of step that these birds sometimes assume before
they give battle. Now Captain Niel was unaccustomed to the pleasant ways
of ostriches, and so was his horse, which showed a strong inclination to
bolt; as, indeed, under other circumstances, his rider would have been
glad to do himself. But he could not abandon beauty in distress, so,
finding it impossible to control his horse, he slipped off it, and with
the _sjambock_ or hide-whip in his hand valiantly faced the enemy. For
a moment or two the great bird stood still, blinking its lustrous round
eyes at him and gently swaying its graceful neck to and fro.
Then all of a sudden it spread out its wings and came for him like
a thunderbolt. John sprang to one side, and was aware of a rustle of
rushing feathers, and of a vision of a thick leg striking downwards
past his head. Fortunately it missed him, and the ostrich sped on like
a flash. Before he could turn, however, it was back and had landed
the full weight of one of its awful forward kicks on the broad of his
shoulders, and away he went head-over-heels like a shot rabbit. In a
second he was on his legs again, shaken indeed, but not much the worse,
and perfectly mad with fury and pain. At him came the ostrich, and at
the ostrich went he, catching it a blow across the slim neck with his
_sjambock_ that staggered it for a moment. Profiting by the check, he
seized the bird by the wing and held on like grim death with both hands.
Now they began to gyrate, slowly at first, then quicker, and yet more
quick, till at last it seemed to Captain John Niel that time and space
and the solid earth were nothing but a revolving vision fixed somewhere
in the watches of the night. Above him, like a stationary pivot, towered
the tall graceful neck, beneath him spun the top-like legs, and in front
of him was a soft black and white mass of feathers.
Thud, and a cloud of stars! He was on his back, and the ostrich, which
did not seem to be affected by giddiness, was on _him_, punishing him
dreadfully. Luckily an ostrich cannot kick a man very hard when he is
flat on the ground. If he could, there would have been an end of John
Niel, and his story need never have been written.
Half a minute or so passed, during which the bird worked his sweet will
upon his prostrate enemy, and at the end of it the man began to feel
very much as though his earthly career was closed. Just as things were
growing faint and dim to him, however, he suddenly saw a pair of white
arms clasp themselves round the ostrich's legs from behind, and heard a
voice cry:
"Break his neck while I hold his legs, or he will kill you."
This roused him from his torpor, and he staggered to his feet. Meanwhile
the ostrich and the young lady had come to the ground, and were rolling
about together in a confused heap, over which the elegant neck and open
hissing mouth wavered to and fro like a cobra about to strike. With a
rush John seized the neck in both his hands, and, putting out all his
strength (for he was a strong man), he twisted it till it broke with a
snap, and after a few wild and convulsive bounds and struggles the great
bird lay dead.
Then he sank down dazed and exhausted, and surveyed the scene. The
ostrich was perfectly quiet, and would never kick again, and the lady
too was quiet. He wondered vaguely if the brute had killed her--he was
as yet too weak to go and see--and then fell to gazing at her face. Her
head was pillowed on the body of the dead bird, and its feathery plumes
made it a fitting resting-place. Slowly it dawned on him that the face
was very beautiful, although it looked so pale just now. Low broad brow,
crowned with soft yellow hair, the chin very round and white, the mouth
sweet though rather large. The eyes he could not see, because they
were closed, for the lady had fainted. For the rest, she was quite
young--about twenty, tall and finely formed. Presently he felt a little
better, and, creeping towards her (for he was sadly knocked about), took
her hand and began to chafe it between his own. It was a well-formed
hand, but brown, and showed signs of doing plenty of hard work. Soon she
opened her eyes, and he noted with satisfaction that they were very good
eyes, blue in colour. Then she sat up and laughed a little.
"Well, I am silly," she said; "I believe I fainted."
"It is not much to be wondered at," said John Niel politely, and lifting
his hand to take off his hat, only to find that it had gone in the fray.
"I hope you are not very much hurt by the bird."
"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "But I am glad that you killed the
_skellum_ (vicious beast). He got out of the ostrich camp three days
ago, and has been lost ever since. He killed a boy last year, and I told
uncle he ought to shoot him then, but he would not, because he was such
a beauty."
"Might I ask," said John Niel, "are you Miss Croft?"
"Yes, I am--one of them. There are two of us, you know; and I can guess
who you are--you are Captain Niel, whom uncle is expecting to help him
with the farm and the ostriches."
"If all of them are like that," he said, pointing to the dead bird, "I
don't think that I shall take kindly to ostrich farming."
She laughed, showing a charming line of teeth. "Oh no," she said,
"he was the only bad one--but, Captain Niel, I think you will find it
fearfully dull. There are nothing but Boers about here, you know. No
English people live nearer than Wakkerstroom."
"You overlook yourself," he said, bowing; for really this daughter of
the wilderness had a very charming air about her.
"Oh," she answered, "I am only a girl, you know, and besides, I am
not clever. Jess, now--that's my sister--Jess has been at school at
Capetown, and she _is_ clever. I was at Cape Town, too, though I didn't
learn much there. But, Captain Niel, both the horses have bolted; mine
has gone home, and I expect yours has followed, and I should like to
know how we are going to get up to Mooifontein--beautiful fountain,
that's what we call our place, you know. Can you walk?"
"I don't know," he answered doubtfully; "I'll try. That bird has knocked
me about a good deal," and accordingly he staggered on to his legs, only
to collapse with an exclamation of pain. His ankle was sprained, and
he was so stiff and bruised that he could hardly stir. "How far is the
house?" he asked.
"Only about a mile--just there; we shall see it from the crest of the
rise. Look, I'm all right. It was silly to faint, but he kicked all the
breath out of me," and she got up and danced a little on the grass to
show him. "My word, though, I am sore! You must take my arm, that's all;
that is if you don't mind?"
"Oh dear no, indeed, I don't mind," he said laughing; and so they
started, arm affectionately linked in arm.
CHAPTER II
HOW THE SISTERS CAME TO MOOIFONTEIN
"Captain Niel," said Bessie Croft--for she was named Bessie--when they
had painfully limped one hundred yards or so, "will you think me rude if
I ask you a question?"
"Not at all."
"What has induced you to come and bury yourself in this place?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I don't think that you will like it. I don't think," she added
slowly, "that it is a fit place for an English gentleman and an army
officer like you. You will find the Boer ways horrid, and then there
will only be my old uncle and us two for you to associate with."
John Niel laughed. "English gentlemen are not so particular nowadays, I
can assure you, Miss Croft, especially when they have to earn a living.
Take my case, for instance, for I may as well tell you exactly how I
stand. I have been in the army fourteen years, and I am now thirty-four.
Well, I have been able to live there because I had an old aunt who
allowed me 120 pounds a year. Six months ago she died, leaving me the
little property she possessed, for most of her income came from an
annuity. After paying expenses, duty, &c., it amounts to 1,115 pounds.
Now, the interest on this is about fifty pounds a year, and I can't live
in the army on that. Just after my aunt's death I came to Durban with
my regiment from Mauritius, and now they are ordered home. Well, I liked
the country, and I knew that I could not afford to live in England, so I
got a year's leave of absence, and made up my mind to have a look round
to see if I could not take to farming. Then a gentleman in Durban told
me of your uncle, and said that he wanted to dispose of a third interest
in his place for a thousand pounds, as he was getting too old to manage
it himself. So I entered into correspondence with him, and agreed to
come up for a few months to see how I liked it; and accordingly here I
am, just in time to save you from being knocked to bits by an ostrich."
"Yes, indeed," she answered, laughing; "you've had a warm welcome at any
rate. Well, I hope you _will_ like it."
Just as he finished his story they reached the top of the rise over
which the ostrich had pursued Bessie Croft, and saw a Kafir coming
towards them, leading the pony with one hand and Captain Niel's horse
with the other. About twenty yards behind the horses a lady was walking.
"Ah," said Bessie, "they've caught the horses, and here is Jess come to
see what is the matter."
By this time the lady in question was quite close, so that John was able
to gather a first impression of her. She was small and rather thin, with
quantities of curling brown hair; not by any means a lovely woman,
as her sister undoubtedly was, but possessing two very remarkable
characteristics--a complexion of extraordinary and uniform pallor, and a
pair of the most beautiful dark eyes he had ever looked on. Altogether,
though her size was almost insignificant, she was a striking-looking
person, with a face few men would easily forget. Before he had time to
observe any more the two parties had met.
"What on earth is the matter, Bessie?" Jess said, with a quick glance
at her sister's companion, and speaking in a low full voice, with just
a slight South African accent, that is taking enough in a pretty woman.
Thereon Bessie broke out with a history of their adventure, appealing to
Captain Niel for confirmation at intervals.
Meanwhile Jess Croft stood quite still and silent, and it struck John
that her face was the most singularly impassive one he had ever seen. It
never changed, even when her sister told her how the ostrich rolled on
her and nearly killed her, or how they finally subdued the foe. "Dear
me," he thought to herself, "what a very strange woman! She can't have
much heart." But just as he thought it the girl looked up, and then he
saw where the expression lay. It was in those remarkable eyes. Immovable
as was her face, the dark eyes were alight with life and a suppressed
excitement that made them shine gloriously. The contrast between the
shining eyes and the impassive face beneath them struck him as so
extraordinary as to be almost uncanny. As a matter of fact, it was
doubtless both unusual and remarkable.
"You have had a wonderful escape, but I am sorry for the bird," she said
at last.
"Why?" asked John.
"Because we were great friends. I was the only person who could manage
him."
"Yes," put in Bessie, "the savage brute would follow her about like a
dog. It was just the oddest thing I ever saw. But come on; we must be
getting home, it's growing dark. Mouti"--which, being interpreted, means
Medicine--she added, addressing the Kafir in Zulu--"help Captain Niel
on to his horse. Be careful that the saddle does not twist round; the
girths may be loose."
Thus adjured, John, with the help of the Zulu, clambered into his
saddle, an example that the lady quickly followed, and they set off once
more through the gathering darkness. Presently he became aware that they
were passing up a drive bordered by tall blue gums, and next minute the
barking of a large dog, which he afterwards knew by the name of Stomp,
and the sudden appearance of lighted windows told him that they had
reached the house. At the door--or rather, opposite to it, for there
was a verandah in front--they halted and got off their horses. As they
dismounted there came a shout of welcome from the house, and presently
in the doorway, showing out clearly against the light, appeared a
striking and, in its way, a most pleasant figure. He--for it was a
man--was very tall, or, rather, he had been very tall. Now he was much
bent with age and rheumatism. His long white hair hung low upon his
neck, and fell back from a prominent brow. The top of the head was
quite bald, like the tonsure of a priest, and shone and glistened in the
lamplight, and round this oasis the thin white locks fell down. The
face was shrivelled like the surface of a well-kept apple, and, like
an apple, rosy red. The features were aquiline and strongly marked; the
eyebrows still black and very bushy, and beneath them shone a pair
of grey eyes, keen and bright as those of a hawk. But for all its
sharpness, there was nothing unpleasant or fierce about the face; on
the contrary, it was pervaded by a remarkable air of good-nature and
pleasant shrewdness. For the rest, the man was dressed in rough tweed
clothes, tall riding-boots, and held a broad-brimmed Boer hunting hat in
his hand. Such, as John Niel first saw him, was the outer person of old
Silas Croft, one of the most remarkable men in the Transvaal.
"Is that you, Captain Niel?" roared out the stentorian voice. "The
natives said you were coming. A welcome to you! I am glad to see
you--very glad. Why, what is the matter with you?" he went on as the
Zulu Mouti ran to help him off his horse.
"Matter, Mr. Croft?" answered John; "why, the matter is that your
favourite ostrich has nearly killed me and your niece here, and that I
have killed your favourite ostrich."
Then followed explanations from Bessie, during which he was helped off
his horse and into the house.
"It serves me right," said the old man. "To think of it now, just to
think of it! Well, Bessie, my love, thank God that you escaped--ay, and
you too, Captain Niel. Here, you boys, take the Scotch cart and a
couple of oxen and go and fetch the brute home. We may as well have the
feathers off him, at any rate, before the _aasvogels_ (vultures) tear
him to bits."
After he had washed himself and tended his injuries with arnica and
water, John managed to limp into the principal sitting-room, where
supper was waiting. It was a very pleasant room, furnished in European
style, and carpeted with mats made of springbuck skins. In the corner
stood a piano, and by it a bookcase, filled with the works of standard
authors, the property, as John rightly guessed, of Bessie's sister Jess.
Supper went off pleasantly enough, and after it was over the two girls
sang and played whilst the men smoked. And here a fresh surprise awaited
him, for after Bessie, who apparently had now almost recovered from her
mauling, had played a piece or two creditably enough, Jess, who so
far had been nearly silent, sat down at the piano. She did not do
this willingly, indeed, for it was not until her patriarchal uncle had
insisted in his ringing, cheery voice that she should let Captain Niel
hear how she could sing that she consented. But at last she did consent,
and then, after letting her fingers stray somewhat aimlessly along the
chords, she suddenly broke out into such song as John Niel had never
heard before. Her voice, beautiful as it was, was not what is known as
a cultivated voice, and it was a German song, therefore he did not
understand it, but there was no need of words to translate its burden.
Passion, despairing yet hoping through despair, echoed in its every
line, and love, unending love, hovered over the glorious notes--nay,
possessed them like a spirit, and made them his. Up! up! rang her wild
sweet voice, thrilling his nerves till they answered to the music as an
Aeolian harp answers to the winds. On went the song with a divine sweep,
like the sweep of rushing pinions; higher, yet higher it soared, lifting
up the listener's heart far above the world on the trembling wings
of sound--ay, even higher, till the music hung at heaven's gate, and
falling thence, swiftly as an eagle falls, quivered, and was dead.
John sighed, and so strongly was he moved, sank back in his chair,
feeling almost faint with the revulsion of feeling that ensued when the
notes had died away. He looked up, and saw Bessie watching him with
an air of curiosity and amusement. Jess was still leaning against the
piano, and gently touching the notes, over which her head was bent low,
showing the coils of curling hair that were twisted round it like a
coronet.
"Well, Captain Niel," said the old man, waving his pipe in her
direction, "and what do you say to my singing-bird's music, eh? Isn't it
enough to draw the heart out of a man, eh, and turn his marrow to water,
eh?"
"I never heard anything quite like it," he answered simply, "and I have
heard most singers. It is beautiful. Certainly, I never expected to hear
such singing in the Transvaal."
Jess turned quickly, and he observed that, though her eyes were alight
with excitement, her face was as impassive as ever.
"There is no need for you to laugh at me, Captain Niel," she said
quickly, and then, with an abrupt "Good-night," she left the room.
The old man smiled, jerked the stem of his pipe over his shoulder after
her, and winked in a way that, no doubt, meant unutterable things, but
which did not convey much to his astonished guest, who sat still and
said nothing. Then Bessie rose and bade him good-night in her pleasant
voice, and with housewifely care inquired as to whether his room was to
his taste, and how many blankets he liked upon his bed, telling him that
if he found the odour of the moonflowers which grew near the verandah
too strong, he had better shut the right-hand window and open that on
the other side of the room. Then at length, with a piquant little nod of
her golden head, she went off, looking, John thought as he watched
her retreating figure, about as healthy, graceful, and generally
satisfactory a young woman as a man could wish to see.
"Take a glass of grog, Captain Niel," said the old man, pushing the
square bottle towards him, "you'll need it after the mauling that brute
gave you. By the way, I haven't thanked you for saving my Bessie! But
I do thank you, yes, that I do. I must tell you that Bessie is my
favourite niece. Never was there such a girl--never. Moves like a
springbuck, and what an eye and form! Work too--she'll do as much work
as three. There's no nonsense about Bessie, none at all. She's not a
fine lady, for all her fine looks."
"The two sisters seem very different," said John.
"Ay, you're right there," answered the old man. "You'd never think
that the same blood ran in their veins, would you? There's three years
between them, that's one thing. Bessie's the youngest, you see--she's
just twenty, and Jess is twenty-three. Lord, to think that it is
twenty-three years since that girl was born! And theirs is a queer story
too."
"Indeed?" said his listener interrogatively.
"Ay," Silas went on absently, knocking out his pipe, and refilling it
from a big brown jar of coarse-cut Boer tobacco, "I'll tell it to you if
you like: you are going to live in the house, and you may as well know
it. I am sure, Captain Niel, that it will go no further. You see I
was born in England, yes, and well-born too. I come from
Cambridgeshire--from the fat fen-land down round Ely. My father was a
clergyman. Well, he wasn't rich, and when I was twenty he gave me his
blessing, thirty sovereigns in my pocket, and my passage to the Cape;
and I shook his hand, God bless him, and off I came, and here in the old
colony and this country I have been for fifty years, for I was seventy
yesterday. Well, I'll tell you more about that another time, it's of the
girls I'm speaking now. After I left home--some years after--my dear
old father married again, a youngish woman with some money, but rather
beneath him in life, and by her he had one son, and then died. Well, it
was but little I heard of my half-brother, except that he had turned
out very badly, married, and taken to drink, till one night some twelve
years ago, when a strange thing happened. I was sitting here in this
very room, ay, in this very chair--for this part of the house was up
then, though the wings weren't built--smoking my pipe, and listening to
the lashing of the rain, for it was a very foul night, when suddenly an
old pointer dog I had, named Ben, began to bark.