"Yes, gone away to Borapota: a little red-hot spot in the red-hot heart of Africa. It is very conveniently situated for us—not too far from our lovely Mombassa harbour—and it is very rich and fertile, and in every way desirable, and the Imperial Unionists think we ought to own it, and the Liberal Little Englanders think we ought to get it—without spilling a drop of blood or saying a single bad word to anybody. And Evelyn Carson has gone to get it for us sans Maxims and sans men and sans anything much besides a high heart and a squad of boys who have been everywhere with him. He has gone on a peaceful expedition into the midst of one of the fiercest tribes in Africa to barter or bargain for Concessions that will eventually extend the Empire by sixty thousand square miles, and add a country crammed with coal and iron and ivory and a dozen other lovely things to the pink part of the map. And he has gone without even official permission, so that if he succeeds—why, hurrah! for the Union Jack and everything under it! And if he fails—only another reputation buried in an African grave! No one will care a rap, and everyone will forget him except the people who love him. The only thing I care to think of in the matter is, that the Borapotans are said to be extremely intelligent and reasonable men, who will make splendid soldiers—and then everyone knows what a way Evelyn Carson has with all natives! The Zulus and the Basutos, and all the war-loving tribes, simply adore him! Still, there's no denying the fact that he's gone with his life in his hand. Even if the natives prove to be sweet and reasonable, there are half a dozen other deaths lurking in every mile of the Interior."
"Has no other white man gone with him?" Poppy heard herself asking.
"No one except his boys will go with him once he starts on the unbeaten track—but our friends the Caprons have sailed with him as far as Mombassa, and Mrs. Capron declares they will accompany him inland, too, until he drives them back. Of course, he's sure to do that before they reach the danger zone—but isn't it intrepid of her?"
Poppy did not know what she answered. Darkness engulfed her spirit, almost her senses.
"They started about a month ago, and I am terribly lonely without them all. Mrs. Capron and her husband will be back within three months, I expect, but we feel—everybody who knows—very anxious about Eve Carson, more especially because he is very susceptible to malarial fever. He had a frightful attack about six weeks before he left; he was found raving in a rickshaw one night, and for nearly a fortnight afterwards was practically delirious. However, no sooner was he out of danger than he took up his preparations again, and in spite of the doctors, he sailed on the date he had originally fixed."... Mrs. Portal looked extremely mournful, but presently she added: "We are so thankful to think that Mrs. Capron will be with him for a while, because her husband has often had fever, and she thoroughly understands it."
"I must go home," said Poppy suddenly; and Clementine, roused from her reverie by the strangely sounding voice, stared at the girl.
"You look quite ill, dear," she said gently. "I am so sorry; I have been wandering on, about all the things that interest me!... Will you lie down a little while? or shall I ring for some wine?"
"No, no, I must go home ... it is nothing ... I feel odd sometimes ..." she spoke vaguely, but she stood up, arranging her veil and pulling on her gloves. Clem came with her through the garden, and they stood for a moment with the low double gate between them, bidding each other good-bye. Mrs. Portal kissed her and told her to come again soon, but the girl answered nothing. Suddenly a visionary look passed like a veil across Clementine Portal's face.
"Poppy," she said in a dreamy, yet intent way; "there will be deep waters around you soon! ... you will need courage, resolution, and silence ... those are a woman's greatest friends in this world ... but, in so far as one human being can count on another—count on me, too, for a friend."
Already the swirl of the waters was in Poppy's ears, but the kind, brave message came to her like a friendly oar in the dark sea of trouble. For a moment she clung to the older woman's hand like a child afraid; then they parted. Poppy walked away through the vapoury, delicate light shed by a slender fragment of moon, and Clem Portal stayed staring abstractedly over the gate. It was three years before they met again.