“Has he been long in prison?”
“About eight years. They tell me that he has never been known during all that time to disobey an order or to grumble at anything. His wife died five years ago, and just afterwards his little daughter, whom he loved better than anyone else, disappeared. They say his health afterwards broke down completely for a time, and his hair and beard turned from jet black to pure white within a few months.”
“Poor old man,—why don’t they let him out if he has suffered so much and has become so good?”
“They are talking of asking the Governor to commute the last year of his sentence. I shall do my best to have the idea carried out, but I had better not move in the matter openly, because all say I am already too much on the side of the convicts, and I am no longer listened to when I intercede for them.”
Summer had not yet come, but its approach was making itself felt from afar. The du Plessis’ were spending the day on the western side of the peninsula, where the South Atlantic tides, steel-grey and cold, sweep past the black, broken rocks. To landward the bastioned turrets known as the “Twelve Apostles” soared into a blue sky; from seaward the rollers were thundering up, in front of a steady north-west breeze.
Elsie had been placed in a comfortable situation such as she loved—safe above the reach of the moving waters, but where faint fragrant whiffs of spray might now and then reach her, and where the generous sunshine prevented her from feeling chilled. She loved sometimes to be left alone thus, so the others wandered away. Soon she fell into a deep sleep.
When the strollers returned they were alarmed at the change which had taken place in the blind girl. She was sitting straight up; her face was drawn, her lips were parted; she breathed with quick, husky gasps and her eyes blazed. The two girls ran up and put their arms around her; then she shrieked loudly, and became almost convulsed. But she soon became calmer under their soothing words and touch.
“Kanu,—are you here?” she uttered.
“We are here,” replied Helena, gently—“Gertrude and I. What is the matter.—What frightened you?”
“Oh,—how long have I been sleeping.—Where is Kanu? Where am I?”