Child of Storm eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 337 pages of information about Child of Storm.

She glided up to me, she threw her arms about me and kissed me on the lips, and I think I kissed her back, but really I am not sure what I did or said, for my head swam.  When it cleared again she was standing in front of me, looking at me reflectively.

“Now, Macumazahn,” she said, with a little smile that both mocked and dazzled, “the poor black girl has you, the wise, experienced white man, in her net, and I will show you that she can be generous.  Do you think that I do not read your heart, that I do not know that you believe I am dragging you down to shame and ruin?  Well, I spare you, Macumazahn, since you have kissed me and spoken words which already you may have forgotten, but which I do not forget.  Go your road, Macumazahn, and I go mine, since the proud white man shall not be stained with my black touch.  Go your road; but one thing I forbid you—­to believe that you have been listening to lies, and that I have merely played off a woman’s arts upon you for my own ends.  I love you, Macumazahn, as you will never be loved till you die, and I shall never love any other man, however many I may marry.  Moreover, you shall promise me one thing—­that once in my life, and once only, if I wish it, you shall kiss me again before all men.  And now, lest you should be moved to folly and forget your white man’s pride, I bid you farewell, O Macumazana.  When we meet again it will be as friends only.”

Then she went, leaving me feeling smaller than ever I felt in my life, before or since—­even smaller than when I walked into the presence of old Zikali the Wise.  Why, I wondered, had she first made a fool of me, and then thrown away the fruits of my folly?  To this hour I cannot quite answer the question, though I believe the explanation to be that she did really care for me, and was anxious not to involve me in trouble and her plottings; also she may have been wise enough to see that our natures were as oil and water and would never blend.



It may be thought that, as a sequel to this somewhat remarkable scene in which I was absolutely bowled over—­perhaps bowled out would be a better term—­by a Kafir girl who, after bending me to her will, had the genius to drop me before I repented, as she knew I would do so soon as her back was turned, thereby making me look the worst of fools, that my relations with that young lady would have been strained.  But not a bit of it.  When next we met, which was on the following morning, she was just her easy, natural self, attending to my hurts, which by now were almost well, joking about this and that, inquiring as to the contents of certain letters which I had received from Natal, and of some newspapers that came with them—­for on all such matters she was very curious—­and so forth.

Impossible, the clever critic will say—­impossible that a savage could act with such finish.  Well, friend critic, that is just where you are wrong.  When you come to add it up there’s very little difference in all main and essential matters between the savage and yourself.

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Child of Storm from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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