Brandon glanced at the doctor, who had followed upstairs more slowly and was now standing by the side of the bed. The doctor made a sign of assent.
“The poor little thing is dead, her husband replied.
A look of pain came into her face, and she was silent for a minute. Then she looked at the doctor, and he, with professional quickness, caught her meaning. He made a sign to the nurse and they both withdrew to the other end of the room.
“I am glad of it,” she whispered, “and I shall soon see it for I feel I am about to follow it.”
“Don't say that, Maud; you will soon be better,” replied her husband.
“I am glad it is dead,” she repeated, “for I have been a bad wife, Bob, and the child was not yours. I'm too weak to tell you all, now; but say you forgive me and I shall die happy.”
“I do forgive you, darling,” said Brandon; “I have been more to blame than you.”
He bent and kissed her fair face and she gently pressed his hand, and closed her eyes. The pressure gradually relaxed, and the doctor, who had been watching her closely, came to the bedside, took her hand and felt her pulse.
Soon he laid her hand down gently, walked round the bed, and touched Brandon on the shoulder.
“You had better come away, Mr. Brandon,” he said gently, “we can neither of us do any more good.
Robert Brandon was a widower.
IN THE TRANSVAAL
After Maud's funeral the house seemed so dull and melancholy that Brandon hastened to sell off all the furniture. Life had become distasteful to him. He was alone in the world and had lost all interest in mundane affairs. He felt that if this continued he would be driven to suicide, and he had the sense to know that the only means to drive away these black thoughts was a thorough change of scene and surrounding.
He quickly got together all the money he could raise, and with three hundred pounds in his pocket started for Liverpool, resolved to take the first steamer — he neither knew nor cared whither.
He wandered round Liverpool docks, and seeing a large steamer about to start, asked whither it was bound, and learned that it was going to the Cape. He embarked, and reached Capetown without any incident or accident. In a few weeks he had nearly exhausted all his money, and was wondering what he should do next, when war between England and the Transvaal became almost certain.
His life still seemed dull and aimless, and though he had shaken off the suicidal thoughts he cared little to live, and it seemed to him that if some Boer's bullet should lay him low it would cause no grief to anyone, and be an honourable end to his own misery.
He lost no time in enlisting in one of the Cape regiments, and as he was a man of education, and had been a volunteer in England and knew something of soldiering he was quickly promoted to be sergeant.
In a few weeks war was declared, and it was with the utmost satisfaction that Brandon heard that his battalion was ordered to the front to join the forces under General Symons.
The officers of the Queen's troops found out quickly that he was a gentleman, and many of them had heard of him by reputation as an artist, so he soon became a general favourite amongst them, and more especially with a tall young, delicate looking man whose name was Captain Sinclair, and they used frequently to visit each other's tents.
Brandon soon discovered from his conversation and demeanour, that the Captain was no ordinary man. Of superior education, he was a profound thinker and had not Destiny made him a soldier it is clear that Nature would have turned him out a philosopher. Their talk was always of an intellectual kind and Brandon felt that he had met a man worth listening to on the rare occasions that his friend could be made to “let himself go,” as he termed it. Once, when speaking of the marvellous power of the genital instinct, and of the magnetic influence that Woman exerted over Man, the Captain narrated the following remarkable dream, which struck Brandon so much that he made notes of it the same night on getting back to his own tent.
We give it as it was repeated to us.
CAPT. SINCLAIR'S DREAM
It was in a tranquil space of immense extent, or else beneath the vast colonnades of a gigantic temple. I know not. It is the specialty of dreams to leave but indistinct notions which fade away, leaving to the awakening spirit only vague memories, so vague they can scarcely be defined.
A weird silence reigned around, strangely soft and soothing to the soul… then hidden musicians, as if from the sky, breathed harmonious chords, in low, very low, soft tones. It was rather a murmur, a zephyr, than music.
Suddenly the tones rose higher and higher, until they abruptly ceased with a hoarse, fearful, piercing cry, a cry of horror, of disgust, of remorse, to give place to the crushing silence of anguish.
All at once the place was ablaze with light; thousands of lamps shone with a hard, dazzling glare. A paean of triumphant pride arose, and the voice rather harsh, elevated and slightly shrill, sounded strangely in its mocking tones.
I then distinguished, seated on an elevated throne, draped in purple, the splendid body of a woman, absolutely perfect in form, and wearing over the deluge of dark luxuriant hair that served her for a mantle, a crown of diamonds so brilliant that they seemed like burning coals. Seated on the black fur of a bear, in an easy posture, she seemed very calm, stripping off the incessantly renewed petals of a daisy, her brilliant eyes lost in a far away dream, towards some invisible horizon, and her eyes of that limpid soft blue shade which seems to denote goodness, quietude and frankness.
Quite on the top of the very broad steps, lay extended, motionless, a man with the handsome body of an athlete, his eyes were fixed up above without bearing in them any expression of revolt or of hatred, but they were glassy, indicating clearly the void of an exhausted brain.
Upon his face the woman had placed her foot, without his making a movement, and for a moment remained fixed in her ecstatic attitude.
Then from below, there came another man who rushed up to her.
She tendered him her lips, then her body, and after tightly embracing her the man fell on the steps where he lay prostrate and crushed.
Two and three more came, and after them a crowd. There were magistrates, soldiers, peasants, workmen, rich and poor, young and old, from all countries, from each continent, and of all colours.
To each and every one she tendered her lips and abandoned her body, and they all fell down an inert mass…
And unceasingly the crowd increased. I saw the steps darkened by a howling mass of people rushing up, fighting to distance one another and arrive first.
There were cries, cries of wild beasts in heat when they rush towards the female, fighting for her; there were cries of suffering, cries of disgust, the heart-rending cries of those who, after possession saw nothing before them but void, absolute void.
The steps were crimsoned with the blood which trickled from the bodies.
Without ceasing, more and more compact, the crowd continued fighting… It was no longer a woman that offered herself, it was an incandescent body which burned all who approached it, but none of them were aware that they were burnt, and I understood that for all, here was the incarnation of supreme enjoyment, here was brought eternal desire, and that afterwards, all fell back with loathing and exhausted.
And while the multitude continued to fight, I saw close by, on a flowery mead, the athletes of Borh, who do not know the flesh, drinking Cyprus wine whilst they discuss the deathlessness of the soul.
One night, Brandon feeling more than usually dull, thought he would go and pay a call on the Captain. He
