A Yellow God: An Idol of Africa. Генри Райдер Хаггард

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      There was no bridge or billiards at the Court that night, where ordinarily the play ran high enough. After Mr. Haswell had been carried to his room, some of the guests, among them Sir Robert Aylward, went to bed, remarking that they could do no good by sitting up, while others, more concerned, waited to hear the verdict of the doctor, who must drive from six miles away. He came, and half an hour later Barbara entered the billiard room and told Alan, who was sitting there smoking, that her uncle had recovered from his faint, and that the doctor, who was to stay all night, said that he was in no danger, only suffering from a heart attack brought on apparently by over-work or excitement.

      When Alan woke next morning the first thing that he heard through his open window was the sound of the doctor’s departing dogcart. Then Jeekie appeared and told him that Mr. Haswell was all right again, but that all night he had shaken “like one jelly.” Alan asked what had been the matter with him, but Jeekie only shrugged his shoulders and said that he did not know—“perhaps Yellow God touch him up.”

      At breakfast, as in her note she had said she would, Barbara appeared wearing a short skirt. Sir Robert, who was there, also looked extremely pale even for him and with black rims round his eyes, asked her if she were going to golf, to which she answered that she would think it over. It was a somewhat melancholy meal, and as though by common consent no mention was made of Jeekie’s tale of the Yellow God, and beyond the usual polite inquiries, very little of their host’s seizure.

      As Barbara went out she whispered to Alan, who opened the door for her, “Meet me at half-past ten in the kitchen garden.”

      Accordingly, having changed his clothes surreptitiously, Alan, avoiding the others, made his way by a circuitous route to this kitchen garden, which after the fashion of modern places was hidden behind a belt of trees nearly a quarter of a mile from the house. Here he wandered about till presently he heard Barbara’s pleasant voice behind him saying:

      “Don’t dawdle so, we shall be late for church.”

      So they started, somewhat furtively like runaway children. As they went Alan asked how her uncle was.

      “All right now,” she answered, “but he has had a bad shake. It was that Yellow God story which did it. I know, for I was there when he was coming to, with Sir Robert. He kept talking about it in a confused manner, saying that it was swimming to him across the floor, till at last Sir Robert bent over him and told him to be quiet quite sternly. Do you know, Alan, I believe that your pet fetish has been manifesting itself in some unpleasant fashion up there in the office?”

      “Indeed. If so, it must be since I left, for I never heard of anything of the sort, nor are Aylward and your uncle likely people to see ghosts. In fact Sir Robert wished to give me about £17,000 for the thing only the day before yesterday, which doesn’t look as though it had been frightening him.”

      “Well, he won’t repeat the offer, Alan, for I heard him promise my uncle only this morning that it should be sent back to Yarleys at once. But why did he want to buy it for such a lot of money? Tell me quickly, Alan, I am dying to hear the whole story.”

      So he began and told her, omitting nothing, while she listened eagerly to every word, hardly interrupting him at all. As he finished his tale they reached the door of the quaint old village church just as the clock was striking eleven.

      “Come in, Alan,” she said gently, “and thank Heaven for all its mercies, for you should be a grateful man to-day.”

      Then without giving him time to answer she entered the church and they took their places in the great square pew that for generations had been occupied by the owners of the ancient house which Mr. Haswell pulled down when he built The Court. There were their monuments upon the wall and their gravestones in the chancel floor. But now no one except Barbara ever sat in their pew; even the benches set aside for the servants were empty, for those who frequented The Court were not church-goers and “like master, like man.” Indeed the gentle-faced old clergyman looked quite pleased and surprised when he saw two inhabitants of that palatial residence amongst his congregation, although it is true that Barbara was his friend and helper.

      The simple service went on; the first lesson was read. It cried woe upon them that joined house to house and field to field, that draw iniquity with cords of vanity and sin as it were with a cart rope; that call evil good and good evil, that put darkness for light and light for darkness, that justify the wicked for reward; that feast full but regard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of His hand, for of such it prophesied that their houses great and fair should be without inhabitant and desolate.

      It was very well read, and Alan, listening, thought that the denunciations of the old seer of thousands of years ago were not inappropriate to the dwellers in some houses great and fair of his own day, who, whatever they did or left undone, regarded not the work of the Lord, neither considered the operation of His hand. Perhaps Barbara thought so too; at any rate a rather sad little smile appeared once or twice upon her sweet, firm face as the immortal poem echoed down the aisle.

      The peace that passeth understanding was invoked upon their heads, and rising with the rest of the scanty congregation they went away.

      “Shall we walk home by the woods, Alan?” asked Barbara. “It is three miles round, but we don’t lunch till two.”

      He nodded, and presently they were alone in those woods, the beautiful woods through which the breath of spring was breathing, treading upon carpets of bluebells, violet and primrose; quite alone, unaccompanied save by the wild things that stole across their path, undisturbed save by the sound of the singing birds and of the wind among the trees.

      “What did you mean, Barbara, when you said that I should be a grateful man to-day?” asked Alan presently.

      Barbara looked him in the eyes in that open, virginal fashion of hers and answered in the words of the lesson, “ ‘Woe unto them that draw iniquity with the cords of vanity and sin as it were with a cart-rope, that lay house to house,’ ” and through an opening in the woods she pointed to the roof of The Court standing on one hill, and to the roof of Old Hall standing upon another—“ ‘and field to field,’ ” and with a sweep of her hand she indicated all the country round, “ ‘for many houses great and fair that have music in their feasts shall be left desolate.’ ” Then turning she said:

      “Do you understand now, Alan?”

      “I think so,” he answered. “You mean that I have been in bad company.”

      “Very bad, Alan. One of them is my own uncle, but the truth remains the truth. Alan, they are no better than thieves; all this wealth is stolen, and I thank God that you have found it out in time before you became one of them in heart as well as in name.”

      “If you refer to the Sahara Syndicate,” he said, “the idea is sound enough; indeed, I am responsible for it. The thing can be done, great benefits would result, too long to go into.”

      “Yes, yes, Alan, but you know that they never mean to do it, they only mean to get the millions from the public. I have lived with my uncle for ten years, ever since my poor father died, and I know the backstairs of the business. There have been half a dozen schemes like this, and although they have had their bad times, very bad times, he and Sir Robert have grown richer and richer. But what has happened to those who have invested in them? Oh! let us drop the subject, it is unpleasant. For myself it doesn’t matter, because although it isn’t under my control, I СКАЧАТЬ