"Hinglish, to be sure!" he answered, with a look and tone of indignant surprise at, he considered, so unnecessary a question. "I be Hinglish, and don't want to be nothing else."
How much I wished some one would come into the garden, and break the spellbound feeling which, despite my fear and dislike of this man, kept me against my will rooted to the spot!
"Is not Rathfelder as good a paymaster as all other land-owners at the Cape?" I asked.
"I got a deal better wages when I drove a bullock-wagon up country," he answered in his usual evasive way; "I had five pun a week, and my wittles; and John Rathfelder, he gives me two pun ten a week, and I 'ont go on wi' it."
My worst suspicions were awakened by this acknowledgment of his former occupation, for of all reckless characters the wagon drivers amidst the savage wilds of Africa are considered among the worst. Nevertheless, despite all my apprehensions and his forbidding looks, an inclination I could not withstand impelled me to say a word of advice and warning to his darkened soul. I was as yet unskilled in such style of speaking; but no matter, thought I; I hold the seed in my hand, and I will at least cast it on the earth, and leave the rest to that merciful God who has declared of his word that it shall not return unto him void. Besides, I really felt a sort of pity for the man, who was evidently unhappy. Dashing abruptly into the subject, I exclaimed, "Oh, don't go back again! don't go back to those savage, godless places! how do you know but that the Almighty, in pity to your uncared for, uncaring condition, has himself worked out your return to this Christian, civilized part of the world, where you can hear his word and be taught his laws in order to save your soul and bring you in the end to himself? And oh, think how soon that end might be at hand! What is the longest life in comparison with eternity, an eternity—according to how you live in this world—of woe unutterable or of such joy as the heart of man hath not conceived? Stay at the Cape—do—and go to church every Sunday, and pray to God to make you all that is pleasing in his eyes. You will be happier, I promise you, than you have ever been while living without God in the world, even though your wages are far less."
It was clear that he had never before been so addressed, and the mixed and varied expressions which came and went like light and shade over his dark, hard face were curious to see.
"My mother was one of your sort, and as good an 'ooman as ever lived; I mind that, though I was young when first I left her," he said with a more softened voice than before.
After a short silence, during which I endeavoured to recover from the excitement which almost took away my breath,
"Is she still alive?" I asked.