Here I stopped, for the girl took hold of my hand and looked into my face. “Peace, my father,” she said, “do not speak to me of marriage, for I will wed no man, now that Umslopogaas is dead because of my foolishness. I will live and die alone, and, oh! may I die quickly, that I may go to seek him whom I love only!”
“Nay, Nada,” I said, “Umslopogaas was your brother, and it is not fitting that you should speak of him thus, even though he is dead.”
“I know nothing of such matters, my father,” she said. “I speak what my heart tells me, and it tells me that I loved Umslopogaas living, and, though he is dead, I shall love him alone to the end. Ah! you think me but a child, yet my heart is large, and it does not lie to me.”
Now I upbraided the girl no more, because I knew that Umslopogaas was not her brother, but one whom she might have married. Only I marvelled that the voice of nature should speak so truly in her, telling her that which was lawful, even when it seemed to be most unlawful.
“Speak no more of Umslopogaas,” I said, “for surely he is dead, and though you cannot forget him, yet speak of him no more, and I pray of you, my daughter, that if we do not meet again, yet you should keep me in your memory, and the love I bear you, and the words which from time to time I have said to you. The world is a thorny wilderness, my daughter, and its thorns are watered with a rain of blood, and we wander in our wretchedness like lost travellers in a mist; nor do I know why our feet are set on this wandering. But at last there comes an end, and we die and go hence, none know where, but perhaps where we go the evil may change to the good, and those who were dear to each other on the earth may become yet dearer in the heavens; for I believe that man is not born to perish altogether, but is rather gathered again to the Umkulunkulu who sent him on his journeyings. Therefore keep hope, my daughter, for if these things are not so, at least sleep remains, and sleep is soft, and so farewell.”
Then we kissed and parted, and I watched Macropha, my wife, and Nada, my daughter, till they melted into the sky, as they walked upon their journey to Swaziland, and was very sad, because, having lost Umslopogaas, he who in after days was named the Slaughterer and the Woodpecker, I must lose them also.
CHAPTER X.
THE TRIAL OF MOPO
Now I sat four days in the huts of the tribe whither I had been sent, and did the king’s business. And on the fifth morning I rose up, together with those with me, and we turned our faces towards the king’s kraal. But when we had journeyed a little way we met a party of soldiers, who commanded us to stand.
“What is it, king’s men?” I asked boldly.
“This, son of Makedama,” answered their spokesman: “give over to us your wife Macropha and your children Umslopogaas and Nada, that we may do with them as the king commands.”