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Updated: June 24, 2025
"You unutterable villain," he gasped, "you cowardly hound! Oh! if only my hands were free." "Well, they ain't, Mr. Darrien, and it's no use your tugging at that buffalo hide, so hold your tongue, and let us hear the lady's answer," sneered Ishmael. "Richard, Richard," said Rachel in a kind of wail, "you have heard. It is a matter of your life. What am I to do?"
"The chief, Darrien," went on Rachel, without heeding the interruption, although she noted that it was Mopo of the withered hand who had spoken from beneath the blanket wrapped about his head, "may be known thus. He is fair of face, with eyes like my eyes, and beard and hair of the colour of gold.
Apparently he could find no answer to them, for when he spoke again it was of another matter. "You say that you hate me, Rachel. If so, it is because of that accursed fellow, Darrien whom you don't hate. Well, he, at any rate, is in my power. Now look here. You've got to make your choice. Either you stop all this nonsense and become my wife, or your friend Darrien dies. Do you hear me?"
"She would not take a husband as you take your wives, nor if this man is Richard Darrien, as I pray, would he be a party to such a thing. Tell me, are they coming here?" "Not they, they are far too comfortable where they are. Also the Zulus would prevent them. But don't be sad about it, for I am sent to take you both to join her at the Great Place where you are to live." "To join her!
Bid them say to Darrien, that the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, she who stood with him once on the rock in the river while the lightnings fell and the lions roared about them, sends him greetings and awaits him." Now Dingaan turned to an induna and said, "Go, do the bidding of the Inkosazana.
Had she done so her happiness for on the whole Rachel was a happy girl would have departed from her, since this once seen lad never left her heart, nor had she forgotten their farewell kiss. Reflecting thus, at length Rachel fell off to sleep and began to dream, still of Richard Darrien.
So she tried to put him from her mind, and by way of an antidote, since still she could not sleep, filled it with her recollections of Richard Darrien. Some years had gone by since they had met, and from that time to this she had never heard a word of him in which she could put the slightest faith.
Also this happened at night as well as during the day, and ever more and more often. She could remember nothing, yet out of this nothingness there grew upon her a continual sense of the presence of Richard Darrien, a presence that seemed to come nearer and nearer, closer and closer to her heart.
Her mother nodded, and, the baby-clothes being at last packed away, shut the lid of-the box with a sigh, sat down upon it and listened. Rachel told her of her meeting with Richard Darrien, and of how he saved her from the flood. She told of the strange night that they had spent together in the little cave while the lions marched up and down without.
"Of course," answered that youth himself, "everybody has except Kaffirs. Mine is Darrien." "Darrien?" said Mr. Dove. "I had a friend called Darrien at school. I never saw him after I left, but I believe that he went into the Navy." "Then he must be my father, sir, for I have heard him say that there had been no other Darrien in the service for a hundred years." "I think so," answered Mr.
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