The Lust of Hate - Guy Newell Boothby (english love story books txt) 📗

ear—“Gilbert Pennethorne, I arrest

you on a charge of murder.”

 

But minute after minute went by, and still no one came to speak

the fatal words. The ship, which had been brought to a standstill to

pick up the boat, had now got under weigh again, and we were

approaching closer and closer to the docks. In less than half an hour

I should know my fate.

 

As soon as we were safely installed in dock, and everyone was

looking after his or her luggage, saying “good-bye” and preparing to

go ashore, I began to look about me for Miss Maybourne. Having found

her we went to the chart-room together to bid the Captain “good-bye,”

and to thank him for the hospitality and kindness he had shown us.

The doctor had next to be discovered, and when he had been assured of

our gratitude, we made enquiries for Mr. Maybourne. It soon became

evident that he was not on board, so, taking his daughter under my

protection, we said our final farewells and went down the gangway.

For the first time in my life I set foot on South African soil.

 

The Custom House once passed, and the authorities convinced that

we had nothing to declare, I hailed a cab and invited Miss Maybourne

to instruct the driver in which direction he was to proceed. Half an

hour later we had left the city behind us, and were driving through

the suburbs in the direction of Mr. Maybourne’s residence. After

following a pretty road for something like a mile, on either side of

which I noticed a number of stately residences, we found ourselves

confronted with a pair of large iron gates, behind which was a neat

lodge. But for the difference in the vegetation, it might very well

have been the entrance to an English park. Through the trees ahead I

could distinguish, as we rolled along the well-kept drive, the

chimneys of a noble residence; but I was quite unprepared for the

picture which burst upon my view when we turned a corner and had the

whole house before us. Unlike most South African dwellings, it was a

building of three stories, surmounted by a tower. Broad verandahs ran

round each floor, and the importance of the building was enhanced by

the fact that it stood on a fine terrace, which again led down by a

broad flight of steps to the flower gardens and orangery. A more

delightful home could scarcely be imagined; and when I saw it, I

ceased to wonder that Miss Maybourne had so often expressed a

preference for South Africa as compared with England.

 

When the cab drew up at the front door I jumped out, and was about

to help my companion to alight when I heard the front door open, and

next moment a tall, fine-looking man, about sixty years of age,

crossed the verandah and came down the steps. At first he regarded me

with a stare of surprise, but before he could ask me my business,

Miss Maybourne had descended from the vehicle and was in his arms.

Not desiring to interrupt them in their greetings I strolled down the

path. But I was not permitted to go far before I heard my name

called. I turned, and went back to have my hand nearly shaken off by

Mr. Maybourne.

 

“My daughter says you have saved her life,” he cried. “I’ll not

ask questions now, but I thank you, sir—from the bottom of my heart

I thank you. God knows you have done me a service the value of which

no man can estimate.”

 

The warmth of his manner was so much above what I had expected

that it left me without power to reply.

 

“Come in, come in,” he continued in a voice that fairly shook with

emotion. “Oh, let us thank God for this happy day!”

 

He placed his arm round his daughter’s waist, and drew her to him

as if he would not let her move from his side again. I followed a few

steps behind, and should have entered the house had I not been

recalled by the cabman, who ventured to remind me that he had not yet

been paid.

 

I instantly put my hand into my pocket, only to have the fact

recalled to me that I possessed no money at all. All my capital had

gone to the bottom in the Fiji Princess, and I was absolutely

penniless. The position was an embarrassing one, and I was just

reflecting what I had better do, when I heard Mr. Maybourne come out

into the verandah again. He must have divined my difficulty, for

without hesitation he discharged the debt, and, apologizing for not

having thought of it, led me into the house.

 

Passing through an elegantly-furnished hall we entered the

dining-room. Here breakfast was laid, and it was evidently from that

meal that Mr. Maybourne had jumped up to receive us.

 

“Now, Mr. Wrexford,” he cried, pointing to a chair, “sit yourself

down yonder, and let me hear everything from the beginning to the

end. Heaven knows I can hardly believe my good fortune. Half an hour

ago I was the most miserable man under the sun; now that I have got

my darling back safe and sound, I believe I am the happiest.”

 

“Had you then heard of the wreck of the ‘Fiji Princess?’” I

enquired.

 

“Here is a telegram I received last night,” he said, handing me a

paper he had taken from his pocket. “You see it is from Teneriffe,

and says that nothing has yet been heard of the vessel which was then

more than a fortnight overdue. Agnes tells me that you were rescued

by the King of Carthage. I understood she was expected about

mid-day to-day, and I had resolved to visit her as soon as she got

into dock, in order to enquire if they had any tidings to report

regarding the lost vessel. How little I expected to find that you

were safe on board her, Aggie! Mr. Wrexford, you can have no idea of

the agony I have suffered this week past.”

 

“On the contrary,” I answered, “I think I can very well imagine

it.”

 

“And now tell me your story. I must not be cheated of a single

detail.”

 

I saw from the way he looked at me that he expected me to do the

narrating, so I did so, commencing with the striking of the vessel on

the rock, and winding up with an account of our rescue by the King

of Carthage. He listened with rapt attention until I had

finished, and then turned to his daughter.

 

“Has Mr. Wrexford told me everything?” he asked with a smile.

 

“No,” she answered. “He has not told you half enough. He has not

told you that when I fell overboard one night, when we were off the

Spanish coast, he sprang over after me and held me up until a boat

came to our assistance. He has not told you that when the vessel sank

he gave his own lifebelt up to me, nor has he given you any idea of

his constant kindness and self-sacrifice all through that dreadful

time.”

 

Mr. Maybourne rose from his chair as she finished speaking, and

came round to where I sat. Holding out his hand to me, he said, with

tears standing in his eyes:

 

“Mr. Wrexford, you are a brave man, and from the bottom of my

heart I thank you. You have saved my girl, and brought her home safe

to me; as long as I live I shall not be able to repay the debt I owe

you. Remember, however, that henceforth I am your truest friend.”

 

But I must draw a curtain over this scene. If I go into any

further details I shall break down again as I did then. Suffice it

that Mr. Maybourne refused to hear of my leaving his house as I

proposed, but insisted that I should remain as his guest until I had

decided what I intended to do with myself.

 

“For the future you must look upon this as your home in South

Africa,” he said. “I seem powerless to express my gratitude to you as

I should like. But a time may come when I may even be able to do

that.”

 

“You have more than repaid me, I’m sure,” I replied. “I have every

reason to be deeply grateful to you for the way you have received

me.”

 

He replied in his former strain, and when he had done so, the

conversation turned upon those who had been lost in the ill-fated

Fiji Princess. It was easy to see that his brother-in-law’s

death cut him to the quick.

 

After luncheon that day I found myself alone with Mr. Maybourne. I

was not sorry for this, as I wanted to sound him as to my future

movements. As I have so often said, I had no sort of desire to remain

in Cape Town, and judged that the sooner I was up country, and out of

civilization, the better it would be for me.

 

“You must forgive my being frank with you, Mr. Wrexford,” said my

host, as we lit cigars preparatory to drawing our chairs into the

verandah; “but I have gathered from what you yourself have said and

from what my daughter has told me, that you are visiting South Africa

on the chance of obtaining some sort of employment. Is this so?”

 

“That is exactly why I am here,” I said. “I am most anxious to

find something to do as soon as possible.”

 

“In what direction will you seek it?” he asked. “What is your

inclination? Remember, I may be able to help you.”

 

“I am not at all particular,” I answered. “I have knocked about

the world a good deal, and I can turn my hand to most things. But if

a choice were permitted me, I fancy I should prefer mining of some

sort to anything else.”

 

“Indeed! I had no idea you understood that sort of work.”

 

“I have done a good deal of it,” I replied, with a little touch of

pride, for which next moment I found it difficult to account,

considering the result to which it had brought me.

 

He asked one or two practical questions, which I was fortunately

able to answer to his satisfaction, and then was silent for a couple

of minutes or so. At last he consulted his pocket-book, and then

turned to me.

 

“I fancy, Mr. Wrexford,” he said, “that you have come in the nick

of time for both of us. We may be able to do each other mutual

services.”

 

“I am very glad to hear that,” I answered. “But in what possible

way can I help you?”

 

“Well, the matter stands like this,” he said. “As you are

doubtless aware, my business is mostly in connection with mining,

both in this colony and its neighbours. Well, information has lately

reached me concerning what promises to prove a first-class property

in Mashonaland, eighty-five miles from Buluwayo. The mine has been

excellently reported on, and is now being got into good going order.

It only needs a capable manager at its head to do really well. Of

course such a man is easily procured in a country where every man

seems to be engaged in mining, more or less; and yet for that very

self-same reason I am unable to make a selection. The available men

all know too much, and I have private reasons for wishing this mine

to be well looked after. Now the question is, would you care for the

post?”

 

Needless to say, I embraced the opportunity in