There was the tomb of the old
monk who had a companion now, for in it Jacob Meyer lay with him, his
bones covered by the _debris_ that he himself had dug out in his mad
search for wealth; and there the white Christ hung awful on His cross.
Only the skeletons of the Portuguese were gone, for with the help of his
Kaffirs Robert had moved them every one into the empty treasure-chamber,
closing the trap beneath, and building up the door above, so that there
they might lie in peace at last.
In this melancholy place they tarried but a little while, then, turning
their backs upon it for ever, went out and climbed the granite cone to
watch the sun rise over the broad Zambesi. Up it came in glory, that
same sun which had shone upon the despairing Benita da Ferreira, and
upon the English Benita when she had stood there in utter hopelessness,
and seen the white man captured by the Matabele.
Now, different was their state indeed, and there in that high place,
whence perhaps many a wretched creature had been cast to death, whence
certainly the Portuguese maiden had sought her death, these two happy
beings were not ashamed to give thanks to Heaven for the joy which it
had vouchsafed to them, and for their hopes of life full and long to be
travelled hand in hand.
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