The Ghost Kings | Page 7

a living creature could be seen. Moreover,
a dreadful hush brooded on the face of earth, and in the sky above; only
far away over the mountains the lightning flickered incessantly, as
though a monster in the skies were licking their precipices and
pinnacles with a thousand tongues of fire. Nothing stirred, not even an
insect; every creature that drew breath had hidden itself away until the
coming terror was overpast.
The atmosphere was full of electricity struggling to be free. Although
she knew not what it was, Rachel felt it in her blood and brain. In some
strange way it affected her mind, opening windows there through which
the eyes of her soul looked out. She became aware of some new
influence drawing near to her life; of a sudden her budding womanhood
burst into flower in her breast, shone on by an unseen sun; she was no
more a child. Her being quickened and acknowledged the kinship of all
things that are. That brooding, flame-threaded sky--she was a part of it,
the earth she trod, it was a part of her; the Mind that caused the stars to
roll and her to live, dwelt in her bosom, and like a babe she nestled
within the arm of its almighty will.
Now, as in a dream, Rachel descended the steep, rock-strewn banks of
the dry branch of the river-bed, wending her way between the boulders
and noting that rotten weeds and peeled brushwood rested against the
stems of the mimosa thorns which grew--there, tokens which told her
that here in times of flood the water flowed. Well, there was little
enough of it now, only a pool or two to form a mirror for the lightning.
In front of her lay the island where grew the Cape gooseberries, or

winter cherries as they are sometimes called, which she came to seek. It
was a low piece of ground, a quarter of a mile long, perhaps, but in the
centre of it were some great rocks and growing among the rocks, trees,
one of them higher than the rest. Beyond it ran the true river, even now
at the end of the dry season three or four hundred yards in breadth,
though so shallow that it could be forded by an ox-drawn waggon.
It was raining on the mountains yonder, raining in torrents poured from
those inky clouds, as it had done off and on for the past twenty-four
hours, and above their fire-laced bosom floated glorious-coloured
masses of misty vapour, enflamed in a thousand hues by the arrows of
the sinking sun. Above her, however, there was no sun, nothing but the
curtain of cloud which grew gradually from grey to black and minute
by minute sank nearer to the earth.
Walking through the dry river-bed, Rachel reached the island which
was the last and highest of a line of similar islands that, separated from
each other by narrow breadths of water, lay like a chain, between the
dry donga and the river. Here she began to gather her gooseberries,
picking the silvery, octagonal pods from the green stems on which they
grew. At first she opened these pods, removing from each the yellow,
sub-acid berry, thinking that thus her basket would hold more, but
presently abandoned that plan as it took too much time. Also although
the plants were plentiful enough, in that low and curious light it was not
easy to see them among the dense growth of reedy vegetation.
While she was thus engaged she became aware of a low moaning noise
and a stirring of the air about her which caused the leaves and grasses
to quiver without bending. Then followed an ice-cold wind that grew in
strength until it blew keen and hard, ruffling the surface of the marshy
pools. Still Rachel went on with her task, for her basket was not more
than half full, till presently the heavens above her began to mutter and
to groan, and drops of rain as large as shillings fell upon her back and
hands. Now she understood that it was time for her to be going, and
started to walk across the island--for at the moment she was near its
farther side--to reach the deep, rocky river-bed or donga.
Before ever she came there, with awful suddenness and inconceivable

fury, the tempest burst. A hurricane of wind tore down the valley to the
sea, and for a few minutes the darkness became so dense that she could
scarcely stumble forward. Then there was light, a dreadful light; all the
heavens seemed to take fire, yes, and the earth, too; it was as though its
last dread catastrophe had fallen on the world.
Buffeted, breathless, Rachel at length reached the edge of the deep
river-bed that may have been