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 Chapter 5

Multiple Choice (21) WARNING: CORRECT ANSWERS ARE IN THE SAME POSITION AND TAGGED WITH **.
YOU SHOULD RANDOMIZE THE LOCATION OF THE CORRECT ANSWERS IN YOUR EXAM.

1. When reading data from a file, the open function returns a(n) __________.
a. file object **
b. file name
c. file handle
d. file tuple

2. What function do you use to terminate a connection to a file?

a. close **
b. terminate
c. stop
d. disconnect

3. After all the lines of a file have been read, the readline method returns __________.
a. the empty string **
b. an empty tuple
c. the value None
d. a Throwback error

4. Python uses a(n) __________ as a temporary holding place for data to be written to disk.
a. buffer **
b. temp space
c. special memory location
d. list

5. When are the contents of the buffer written to disk?

a. When the buffer is full.
b. When the file is closed.
c. Both a & b. **
d. None of the above.

6. Which standard library module do you need to import in order to use the remove and rename
functions for files?
a. os **
b. file
c. path

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

 d. pickle

7. A(n) __________ is an unordered collection of items with no duplicates.

a. set **
b. file
c. dictionary
d. tuple

8. Elements of a set are delimited with __________.

a. { } **
b. [ ]
c. ( )
d. < >

9. The statement set1.union(set2) is:

a. the set containing the elements that are in either set1 and set2 without duplicates **
b. the set containing the elements that are in both set1 and set2
c. the set containing the elements that are in set1 with the elements of set2 removed
d. the set containing the elements that are in set2 with the elements of in set1 removed

10. The statement set1.intersection(set2) is:

a. the set containing the elements that are in both set1 and set2 **
b. the set containing the elements that are in either set1 and set2 without duplicates
c. the set containing the elements that are in set1 with the elements of set2 removed
d. the set containing the elements that are in set2 with the elements of in set1 removed

11. The statement set1.difference(set2) is:

a. the set containing the elements that are in set1 with the elements of set2 removed **
b. the set containing the elements that are in set2 with the elements of in set1 removed
c. the set containing the elements that are in both set1 and set2
d. the set containing the elements that are in either set1 and set2 without duplicates

12. An attempt to open a nonexistent file for input:

a. generates a runtime error **
b. generates a syntax error
c. creates an empty input file
d. none of the above

13. If a file that already exists is opened for writing:

a. the contents of the file will be erased **
b. the new data to be written will be appended to the end of the rile
c. a Throwback error will occur

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

 d. the user will be prompted for the action they wish to take

14. The default mode for opening a file is

a. reading **
b. writing
c. appending
d. deleting

15. To avoid a potential runtime error when opening files for reading or writing:
a. use the os.path.isfile function **
b. use the os.path.file.exists function
c. prompt the user for the action to take if the file does not exist
d. use the Boolean value try to check if the file exists

16. What is the output of the following Python statement?

print (set(“bookkeeper”))
a. {‘b’, ‘o’, ‘k’, ‘e’, ‘p’, ‘r’} **
b. {‘b’, ‘o’, ‘o’, ‘k’, ‘k’, ‘e’, ‘e’, ‘p’, ‘e’, ‘r’}
c. {‘o’, ‘k’, ‘e’}
d. {‘b’, ‘p’, ‘r’}

17. Each line of a CSV file is referred to as a(n) __________.

a. record **
b. tuple
c. field
d. comma field

18. Each piece of data in a CSV file record is referred to as a(n) __________.
a. field **
b. record
c. tuple
d. line

19. In a dictionary, a pair such such as “dog” : “rover” is called a(n) __________.
a. item **
b. pair
c. key
d. couple

20. Which file format stores data as a sequence of types that can only be access by special readers?
a. binary **
b. text

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

 c. CSV-formatted
d. all of the above

21. In order for Python to use functions to work with binary files, you must first import which
standard library module?
a. pickle **
b. os
c. binaries
d. osfile

True/False (23)

1. After all the lines of a file have been read, the readline method returns the value None.

Answer: false

2. You must close a file in order to guarantee that all data has been physically written to the disk.

Answer: true

3. The remove and rename functions cannot be used with open files.

Answer: true

4. Sets cannot contain lists.

Answer: true

5. Sets can contain other sets.

Answer: false

6. Elements of a set have no order.

Answer: true

7. Elements of a set may be duplicated.

Answer: false

8. Two sets are equal if they contain the same elements.

Answer: true

9. Elements if a set cannot be ordered.

Answer: true

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

10. Sets cannot be created with comprehension.

Answer: false

11. infile is a descriptive name bot not mandatory for file input usage.

Answer: true

12. An attempt to open a nonexistent file for input generates a syntax error.

Answer: false

13. If a file that already exists is opened for writing, the contents of the file will be erased.

Answer: true

14. The default mode for opening a file is writing.

Answer: false

15. Only strings can be written to text file.

Answer: true

16. The value of set() is the empty set.

Answer: true

17. The data in the fields of each record in a CSV file normally should be related.

Answer: true

18. In a dictionary, keys must be immutable objects.

Answer: true

19. It is common to create dictionaries from text files.

Answer: true

20. Dictionaries cannot have other dictionaries as values.

Answer: false

21. A dictionary is an ordered structure that can be sorted.

Answer: false

22. Dictionaries cannot be created with comprehension.

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

 Answer: false

23. Dictionary comprehension can be used to extract a subset of a dictionary.

Answer: true

Short Answer (11)

1. Complete the following function to open the file for reading and read the contents into a single
string named contents.

def readFile(file):

Answer:
infile = open(file, ‘r’)
contents = infile.read()

2. Write a Python statement to open a file called names for writing and assign it to a variable called
outfile.

Answer: outfile = open(names, ‘w’)

3. Write a Python statement to open a file called grades with the intent to add values to the end of
the file and assign it to a variable called outfile.

Answer: outfile = open(grades, ‘a’)

4. Write a single Python statement to convert the list [“spring”, “summer”, “fall”, “winter”] to a set
called seasons.

Answer: seasons = set([“spring”, “summer”, “fall”, “winter”])

5. Write a single Python statement to convert the tuple (“spring”, “summer”, “fall”, “winter”) to a
set called seasons.

Answer: seasons = set((“spring”, “summer”, “fall”, “winter”))

6. Why can’t elements of a set be indexed?

Answer: Elements of a set cannot be indexed have no order.

7. Explain the difference between a simple text file and a CSV-formatted file.

Answer: A simple text file has a single piece of data per line. A CSV-formatter file has several items
of data on each line with items separated by commas.

8. Write a Python statement to create an empty dictionary called dogs.

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

Answer: dogs = { }

9. Write a Python statement to create a copy of the dictionary called dogs into a new dictionary
called canines.

Answer: canines = dict(dogs)

10. Create a dictionary called dogs for the following data.

Eddie Jack Russell

Lassie Collie
Ping Beagle

Answer: dogs = {“Eddie” : “Jack Russell”, “Lassie” : “Collie”, “Ping” : “Beagle”}

11. Why can’t lists and sets serve as keys for dictionaries?

Answer: Because dictionary keys must be immutable objects. Lists and sets are mutable.

© 2016 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

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 “She is so good,” said Daireen. “Think of all the trouble she was at
to-day for our sake.”
“Yes, for our sake,” laughed her father. “My dear Dolly, if you could
only know the traditions our old station retains of Mrs. Crawford, you
would think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone to for the
sake of her friends—her importations by every mail—is simply
astonishing. But what did you think of that charming Miss Van der
Veldt you took such care of, Standish, my boy? Did you make much
progress in Cape Dutch?”
But Standish could not answer in the same strain of pleasantry. He
was thinking too earnestly upon the visions his fancy had been
conjuring up during the entire evening—visions of Mr. Glaston sitting
by the side of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, though by no
means uncommon, phenomenon of sunset. He had often wished,
when at the waterfall gathering Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt,
that he could come into possession of the power of Joshua at the
valley of Gibeon to arrest the descent of the orb. The possibly
disastrous consequences to the planetary system seemed to him but
trifling weighed against the advantages that would accrue from the
fact of Mr. Glaston's being deprived of a source of conversation that
was both fruitful and poetical. Standish knew well, without having
read Wordsworth, that the twilight was sovereign of one peaceful
hour; he had in his mind quite a store of unuttered poetical
observations upon sunset, and he felt that Mr. Glaston might possibly
be possessed of similar resources which he could draw upon when
occasion demanded such a display. The thought of Mr. Glaston
sitting at the feet of Daireen, and with her drinking in of the glory of
the west, was agonising to Standish, and so he could not enter into
Colonel Gerald's pleasantry regarding the attractive daughter of the
member of the Legislative Council.
When Daireen had shut the door of her room that night and stood
alone in the darkness, she found the relief that she had been
seeking since she had come down from the slope of that great Peak
—relief that could not be found even in the presence of her father,
who had been everything to her a few days before. She found relief
in being alone with her thoughts in the silence of the night. She
drew aside the curtains of her window, and looked out up to that
Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant stars. She could know
exactly the spot upon the edge of the ravine where she had been
sitting—where they had been sitting. What did it all mean? she
asked herself. She could not at first recollect any of the words she
had heard upon that slope, she could not even think what they
should mean, but she had a childlike consciousness of happiness
mixed with fear. What was the mystery that had been unfolded to
her up there? What was the revelation that had been made to her?
She could not tell. It seemed wonderful to her how she could so
often have looked up to that hill without feeling anything of what
she now felt gazing up to its slope.
It was all too wonderful for her to understand. She had a
consciousness of nothing but that all was wonderful. She could not
remember any of his words except those he had last uttered. The
bond between them—was it of love? How could she tell? What did
she know of love? She could not answer him when he had spoken to
her, nor was she able even now, as she stood looking out to those
brilliant stars that crowned the Peak and studded the dark edges of
the slope which had been lately overspread with the poppy-petals of
sunset. It was long before she went into her bed, but she had
arrived at no conclusion to her thoughts—all that had happened
seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she felt happy
beyond all the happiness she had ever known, or sad beyond the
sadness of any hour of her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her
perplexity.
But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly
over to the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that
slope and to the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream.
There shone the silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It
was the loveliest hill in the world, she felt—lovelier even than the
purple heather-clad Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to
suggest itself to her mind, she felt all the time she was dressing, but
still it remained with her and refused to be shaken off.
 CHAPTER XXVIII.
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
... her election
Hath sealed thee for herself.

Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records...
That youth and observation copied there,
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!—Hamlet.

C
OLONEL Gerald was well aware of Mrs. Crawford's strategical
skill, and he had watched its development and exercise during
the afternoon of that pleasant little luncheon party on the hill.
He remembered what she had said to him so gravely at the garden-
party at Government House regarding the responsibility inseparable
from the guardianship of Daireen at the Cape, and he knew that
Mrs. Crawford had in her mind, when she organised the party to the
hill, such precepts as she had previously enunciated. He had
watched and admired her cleverness in arranging the collecting
expeditions, and he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had
under some pretext until all the others but Daireen had gone up the
ravine was a master stroke. But at this point Colonel Gerald's
observation ended. His imagination had been much less vivid than
either Mrs. Crawford's or Standish's. He did not attribute any subtle
influence to the setting sun, nor did he conjure up any vision of Mr.
Glaston sitting at the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the
magic of the sunset glories alone could inspire.
The fact was that he knew much better than either Mrs. Crawford
or Standish how his daughter felt towards Mr. Glaston, and he was
not in the least concerned in the result of her observation of the
glowing west by the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Crawford
looked narrowly into the girl's face on her descent Colonel Gerald
had only laughed; he did not feel any distressing weight of
responsibility on the subject of the guardianship of his daughter, for
he had not given a single thought to the accident of his daughter's
straying up the ravine with Algernon Glaston, nor was he impressed
by his daughter's behaviour on the day following. They had driven
out together to pay some visits, and she had been even more
affectionate to him than usual, and he justified Mrs. Crawford's
accusation of his ignorance and the ignorance of men generally, by
feeling, from this fact, more assured that Daireen had passed
unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the drawing on of
twilight on the mount.
On the next day to that on which they had paid their visits,
however, Daireen seemed somewhat abstracted in her manner, and
when her father asked her if she would ride with him and Standish
to The Flats she, for the first time, brought forward a plea—the plea
of weariness—to be allowed to remain at home.
Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the least glance of
suspicion, only tenderly, as he said:
“Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You must not overtax
yourself, or we shall have to get a nurse for you.”
He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep of the Dutch cottage
and put his arm about her. In an instant she had clasped him round
the neck and had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something
like hysterical passion. He laughed and patted her on the back in
mock protest at her treatment. It was some time before she
unwound her arms and he got upon his feet, declaring that he would
not submit to such rough handling. But all the same he saw that her
eyes were full of tears; and as he rode with Standish over the sandy
plain made bright with heath, he thought more than once that there
was something strange in her action and still stranger in her tears.
Standish, however, felt equal to explaining everything that seemed
unaccountable. He felt there could be no doubt that Daireen was
wearying of these rides with him: he was nothing more than a
brother—a dull, wearisome, commonplace brother to her, while such
fellows as Glaston, who had made fame for themselves, having been
granted the opportunity denied to others, were naturally attractive to
her. Feeling this, Standish once more resolved to enter upon that
enterprise of work which he felt to be ennobling. He would no longer
linger here in silken-folded idleness, he would work—work—work—
steadfastly, nobly, to win her who was worth all the labour of a
man's life. Yes, he would no longer remain inactive as he had been,
he would—well, he lit another cigar and trotted up to the side of
Colonel Gerald.
But Daireen, after the departure of her father and Standish,
continued sitting upon the chair under the lovely creeping plants that
twined themselves around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was
very cool in the gracious shade while all the world outside was red
with heat. The broad leaves of the plants in the garden were
hanging languidly, and the great black bees plunged about the
mighty roses that were bursting into bloom with the first breath of
the southern summer. From the brink of the little river at the bottom
of the avenue of Australian oaks the chatter of the Hottentot
washerwomen came, and across the intervening space of short
tawny grass a Malay fruitman passed, carrying his baskets slung on
each end of a bamboo pole across his shoulders.
She looked out at the scene—so strange to her even after the
weeks she had been at this place; all was strange to her—as the
thoughts that were in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been
but one day at this place, and yet since she had heard the voice of
Oswin Markham how great a space had passed! All the days she had
been here were swallowed up in the interval that had elapsed since
she had seen this man—since she had seen him? Why, there he was
before her very eyes, standing by the side of his horse with the
bridle over his arm. There he was watching her while she had been
thinking her thoughts.
She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, white and lovely as
a lily in a land of red sun. He felt her beauty to be unutterably
gracious to look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and walked
up to her.
“I have come to say good-bye,” he said as he took her hand.
These were the same words that she had heard from Harwood a
few days before and that had caused her to smile. But now the hand
Markham was not holding was pressed against her heart. Now she
knew all. There was no mystery between them. She knew why her
heart became still after beating tumultuously for a few seconds; and
he, though he had not designed the words with the same object that
Harwood had, and though he spoke them without the same careful
observance of their effect, in another instant had seen what was in
the girl's heart.
“To say good-bye?” she repeated mechanically.
“For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem to me—for a month.”
He saw the faint smile that came to her face, and how her lips
parted as a little sigh of relief passed through them.
“For a month?” she said, and now she was speaking in her own
voice, and sitting down. “A month is not a long time to say good-bye
for, Mr. Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone out for his ride
on The Flats.”
“I am fortunate in finding even you here, then,” he said.
“Fortunate! Yes,” she said. “But where do you mean to spend this
month?” she continued, feeling that he was now nothing more than
a visitor.
“It is very ridiculous—very foolish,” he replied. “I promised, you
know, to act in some entertainment Miss Vincent has been getting
up, and only yesterday her father received orders to proceed to
Natal; but as all the fellows who had promised her to act are in the
company of the Bayonetteers that has also been ordered off, no
difference will be made in her arrangements, only that the
performance will take place at Pietermaritzburg instead of at Cape
Town. But she is so unreasonable as to refuse to release me from
my promise, and I am bound to go with them.”
“It is a compliment to value your services so highly, is it not?”
“I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification I find from
thinking so for the sake of being released. She is both absurd and
unreasonable.”
“So it would certainly strike any one hearing only of this,” said
Daireen. “But it will only be for a month, and you will see the place.”
“I would rather remain seeing this place,” he said. “Seeing that hill
above us.” She flushed as though he had told her in those words
that he was aware of how often she had been looking up to that
slope since they had been there together——
There was a long pause, through which the voices and laughter of
the women at the river-bank were heard.
“Daireen,” said the man, who stood up bareheaded before her.
“Daireen, that hour we sat up there upon that slope has changed all
my thoughts of life. I tell you the life which you restored to me a
month ago I had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come to hope that
it would end speedily. You cannot know how wretched I was.”
“And now?” she said, looking up to him. “And now?”
“Now,” he answered. “Now—what can I tell you? If I were to be
cut off from life and happiness now, I should stand before God and
say that I have had all the happiness that can be joined to one life
on earth. I have had that one hour with you, and no God or man can
take it from me: I have lived that hour, and none can make me
unlive it. I told you I would say no word of love to you then, but I
have come to say the word now. Child, I dared not love you as I was
—I had no thought worthy to be devoted to loving you. God knows
how I struggled with all my soul to keep myself from doing you the
injustice of thinking of you; but that hour at your feet has given me
something of your divine nature, and with that which I have caught
from you, I can love you. Daireen, will you take the love I offer you?
It it yours—all yours.”
He was not speaking passionately, but when she looked up and
saw his face haggard with earnestness she was almost frightened—
she would have been frightened if she had not loved him as she now
knew she did. “Speak,” he said, “speak to me—one word.”
“One word?” she repeated. “What one word can I say?”
“Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen.”
She looked up to him again. “All?” she said with a little smile. “All?
No, I could never tell you all. You know a little of it. That is the bond
between us.”
He turned away and actually took a few steps from her. On his
face was an expression that could not easily have been read. But in
an instant he seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his.
“My darling,” he said, “the Past has buried its dead. I shall make
myself worthy to think of you—I swear it to you. You shall have a
true man to love.” He was almost fierce in his earnestness, and her
hand that he held was crushed for an instant. Then he looked into
her face with tenderness. “How have you come to answer my love
with yours?” he said almost wonderingly. “What was there in me to
make you think of my existence for a single instant?”
She looked at him. “You were—you,” she said, offering him the
only explanation in her power. It had seemed to her easy enough to
explain as she looked at him. Who else was worth loving with this
love in all the world, she thought. He alone was worthy of all her
heart.
“My darling, my darling,” he said, “I am unworthy to have a single
thought of you.”
“You are indeed if you continue talking so,” she said with a laugh,
for she felt unutterably happy.
“Then I will not talk so. I will make myself worthy to think of you
by—by—thinking of you. For a month, Daireen,—for a month we can
only think of each other. It is better that I should not see you until
the last tatter of my old self is shred away.”
“It cannot be better that you should go away,” she said. “Why
should you go away just as we are so happy?”
“I must go, Daireen,” he said. “I must go—and now. I would to
God I could stay! but believe me, I cannot, darling; I feel that I must
go.”
“Because you made that stupid promise?” she said.
“That promise is nothing. What is such a promise to me now? If I
had never made it I should still go.”
He was looking down at her as he spoke. “Do not ask me to say
anything more. There is nothing more to be said. Will you forget me
in a month, do you think?”
Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety in the tone of his
question? she thought for an instant. Then she looked into his face
and laughed.
“God bless you, Daireen!” he said tenderly, and there was sadness
rather than passion in his voice.
“God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness ever come to
you!”
He held out his hand to her, and she laid her own trustfully in his.
“Do not say good-bye,” she pleaded. “Think that it is only for a
month—less than a month, it must be. You can surely be back in less
than a month.”
“I can,” he replied; “I can, and I will be back within a month, and
then—— God keep you, Daireen, for ever!”
He was holding her hand in his own with all gentleness. His face
was bent down close to hers, but he did not kiss her face, only her
hand. He crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was blinded
with her tears, so that she did not see him hasten away through the
avenue of oaks. She did not even hear his horse's tread, nor could
she know that he had not once turned round to give her a farewell
look.
 It was some minutes before she seemed to realise that she was
alone. She sprang to her feet and stood looking out over those
deathly silent broad leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed
to be the plants in a picture of a strange region. She heard the
laughter of the Hottentot women at the river, and the unmusical
shriek of a bird in the distance. She clasped her hands over her
head, looking wistfully through the foliage of the oaks, but she did
not utter a word. He was gone, she knew now, for she felt a
loneliness that overwhelmed every other feeling. She seemed to be
in the middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid shrubs that
branched before her eyes seemed dead, and the silence of the warm
scented air was a terror to her.
He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing left for her but
this loneliness. She went into her room in the cottage and seated
herself upon her little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she felt
it good to pray for him—for this man whom she had come to love,
she knew not how. But she knew she loved him so that he was a
part of her own life, and she felt that it would always be so. She
could scarcely think what her life had been before she had seen him.
How could she ever have fancied that she loved her father before
this man had taught her what it was to love? Now she felt how dear
beyond all thought her father was to her. It was not merely love for
himself that she had learnt from Oswin Markham, it was the power
of loving truly and perfectly that he had taught her.
Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant voice of her friend
Mrs. Crawford in the hall. Then she rose and wondered if every one
would not notice the change that had passed over her. Was it not
written upon her face? Would not every touch of her hand—every
word of her voice, betray it?
Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to facing even Mrs.
Crawford, and to acknowledging all that she believed the acute
observation of that lady would read from her face as plainly as from
the page of a book.
But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford's eyes were heavy this
afternoon, for though she looked into Daireen's face and kissed her
cheek affectionately, she made no accusation.
“I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear,” she said. “It is so
different ashore from aboard ship. I have not really had one good
chat with you since we landed. George is always in the way, or the
major, you know—ah, you think I should rather say the colonel and
Jack, but indeed I think of your father only as Lieutenant George.
And you enjoyed our little lunch on the hill, I hope? I thought you
looked pale when you came down. Was it not a most charming
sunset?”
“It was indeed,” said Daireen, straining her eyes to catch a
glimpse through the window of the slope where the red light had
rested.
“I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. Glaston is such good
company—ah, that is, of course, to a sympathetic mind. And I don't
think I am going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure he was
in company with a sympathetic mind the evening before last.”
Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing a graceful
compliment.
“I think he was,” said Daireen. “Miss Vincent and he always
seemed pleased with each other's society.”
“Miss Vincent?—Lottie Vincent?” cried the lady in a puzzled but
apprehensive way. “What do you mean, Daireen? Lottie Vincent?”
“Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent went away from us,
among the silver leaves, and only returned as we were coming down
the hill.”
Mrs. Crawford was speechless for some moments. Then she
looked at the girl, saying, “We,—who were we?”
“Mr. Markham and myself,” replied Daireen without faltering.
“Ah, indeed,” said the other pleasantly. Then there was a pause
before she added, “That ends my association with Lottie Vincent.
The artful, designing little creature! Daireen, you have no idea what
good nature it required on my part to take any notice of that girl,
knowing so much as I do of her; and this is how she treats me!
Never mind; I have done with her.” Seeing the girl's puzzled glance,
Mrs. Crawford began to recollect that it could not be expected that
Daireen should understand the nature of Lottie's offence; so she
added, “I mean, you know, dear, that that girl is full of spiteful,
designing tricks upon every occasion. And yet she had the effrontery
to come to me yesterday to beg of me to take charge of her while
her father would be at Natal. But I was not quite so weak. Never
mind; she leaves tomorrow, thank goodness, and that is the last I
mean to see of her. But about Mr. Markham: I hope you do not think
I had anything to say in the matter of letting you be with him,
Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed.”
“I am sure of it,” said Daireen quietly—so quietly that Mrs.
Crawford began to wonder could it be possible that the girl wished
to show that she had been aware of the plans which had been
designed on her behalf. Before she had made up her mind, however,
the horses of Colonel Gerald and Standish were heard outside, and
in a moment afterwards the colonel entered the room.
“Papa,” said Daireen almost at once, “Mr. Markham rode out to see
you this afternoon.”
“Ah, indeed? I am sorry I missed him,” he said quietly. But Mrs.
Crawford stared at the girl, wondering what was coming.
“He came to say good-bye, papa.”
Mrs. Crawford's heart began to beat again.
“What, is he returning to England?” asked the colonel.
“Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood's example and go
up to Natal.”
“Then he need not have said good-bye, anymore than Harwood,”
remarked the colonel; and his daughter felt it hard to restrain herself
from throwing her arms about his neck.
“Ah,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Miss Lottie has triumphed! This Mr.
Markham will go up in the steamer with her, and will probably act
with her in this theatrical nonsense she is always getting up.”
 “He is to act with her certainly,” said Daireen. “Ah! Lottie has made
a success at last,” cried the elder lady. “Mr. Markham will suit her
admirably. They will be engaged before they reach Algoa Bay.”
“My dear Kate, why will you always jump at conclusions?” said the
colonel. “Markham is a fellow of far too much sense to be in the
least degree led by such a girl as Lottie.”
Daireen had hold of her father's arm, and when he had spoken
she turned round and kissed him. But it was not at all unusual for
her to kiss him in this fashion on his return from a ride.
 CHAPTER XXIX.
Haply the seas and countries different
With variable objects shall expel
This something-settled matter in his heart,
Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus
From fashion of himself.—Hamlet

H
E had got a good deal to think about, this Mr. Oswin
Markham, as he stood on the bridge of the steamer that was
taking him round the coast to Natal, and looked back at that
mountain whose strange shape had never seemed stranger than it
did from the distance of the Bay.
Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the white walls of the
houses at its base were quite hidden; Robbin Island lighthouse had
almost dwindled out of sight; and in the water, through the bright
red gold shed from a mist in the west that the falling sun saturated
with light, were seen the black heads of innumerable seals
swimming out from the coastway of rocks. Yes, Mr. Oswin Markham
had certainly a good deal to think about as he looked back to the
flat-ridged mountain, and, mentally, upon all that had taken place
since he had first seen its ridges a few weeks before.
He had thought it well to talk of love to that girl who had given
him the gift of the life he was at present breathing—to talk to her of
love and to ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she had
put her hand trustfully in his and had trusted him with all her heart,
he knew; and yet the thought of it did not make him happy. His
heart was not the heart of one who has triumphed. It was only full
of pity for the girl who had listened to him and replied to him.
 And for himself he felt what was more akin to shame than any
other feeling—shame, that, knowing all he did of himself, he had still
spoken those words to the girl to whom he owed the life that was
now his.
“God! was it not forced upon me when I struggled against it with
all my soul?” he said, in an endeavour to strangle his bitter feeling.
“Did not I make up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what was
coming upon me, and was I to be blamed if I could not do so? Did
not I rush away from her without a word of farewell? Did not we
meet by chance that night in the moonlight? Were those words that
I spoke to her thought over? Were not they forced from me against
my own will, and in spite of my resolution?” There could be no doubt
that if any one acquainted with all the matters to which he referred
had been ready to answer him, a satisfactory reply would have been
received by him to each of his questions. But though, of course, he
was aware of this, yet he seemed to find it necessary to alter the
ground of the argument he was advancing for his own satisfaction.
“I have a right to forget the wretched past,” he said, standing
upright and looking steadfastly across the glowing waters. “Have not
I died for the past? Is not this life a new one? It is God's justice that
I am carrying out by forgetting all. The past is past, and the future
in all truth and devotion is hers.”
There were, indeed, some moments of his life—and the present
was one of them—when he felt satisfied in his conscience by
assuring himself, as he did now, that as God had taken away all
remembrance of the past from many men who had suffered the
agonies of death, he was therefore entitled to let his past life and its
recollections drift away on that broken mast from which he had been
cut in the middle of the ocean; but the justice of the matter had not
occurred to him when he got that bank order turned into money at
the Cape, nor at the time when he had written to the agents of his
father's property in England, informing them of his escape. He now
stood up and spoke those words of his, and felt their force, until the
sun, whose outline had all the afternoon been undefined in the mist,
sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous colours drifted round
from his sinking place and dwindled into the dark green of the
waters. He watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came to
his side in her most playful mood, her fresh and artless young nature
found no response to its impulses in him. She turned away chilled,
but no more discouraged than a little child, who, desirous of being
instructed on the secret of the creative art embodied in the
transformation of a handkerchief into a rabbit, finds its mature friend
reflecting upon a perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious
Cerebration. Lottie knew that her friend Mr. Oswin Markham
sometimes had to think about matters of such a nature as caused
her little pleasantries to seem incongruous. She thought that now
she had better turn to a certain Lieutenant Clifford, who, she knew,
had no intricate mental problems to work out; and she did turn to
him, with great advantage to herself, and, no doubt, to the officer as
well. However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been of his past
life, he could still recollect a few generalities that had struck him in
former years regarding young persons of a nature similar to this
pretty little Miss Vincent's. She had insisted on his fulfilling his
promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it with a good grace; but
at this point his contract terminated; he would not be tempted into
making another promise to her which he might find much more
embarrassing to carry out with consistency.
It had been a great grief to Lottie to be compelled, through the
ridiculous treatment of her father by the authorities in ordering him
to Natal, to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape Town to
Pietermaritzburg. However, as she had sold a considerable number
of tickets to her friends, she felt that “the most deserving charity,”
the augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object of the
entertainment, would be benefited in no inconsiderable degree by
the change of venue. If the people of Pietermaritzburg would
steadfastly decline to supply her with so good an audience as the
Cape Town people, there still would be a margin of profit, since her
friends who had bought tickets on the understanding that the
performance would take place where it was at first intended, did not
receive their money back. How could they expect such a concession,
Lottie asked, with innocent indignation; and begged to be informed
if it was her fault that her father was ordered to Natal. Besides this
one unanswerable query, she reminded those who ventured to make
a timid suggestion regarding the returns, that it was in aid of a most
deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that it would be an
act of injustice to give back a single shilling that had been paid for
the tickets. Pursuing this very excellent system, Miss Lottie had to
the credit of the coming performance a considerable sum which
would provide against the contingencies of a lack of dramatic
enthusiasm amongst the inhabitants of Pietermaritzburg.
It was at the garden-party at Government House that Markham
had by accident mentioned to Lottie that he had frequently taken
part in dramatic performances for such-like objects as Lottie's was
designed to succour, and though he at first refused to be a member,
of her company, yet at Mrs. Crawford's advocacy of the claims of the
deserving object, he had agreed to place his services and experience
at the disposal of the originator of the benevolent scheme.
At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown himself very heartily
into the business of creating a part in the drama which had been
selected. He was well aware that if a good performance of the
nature designed by Lottie is successful, a bad performance is
infinitely more so; and that any attempt on the side of an amateur
to strike out a new character from an old part is looked upon with
suspicion, and is generally attended with disaster; so he had not
given himself any trouble in the matter.
“My dear Miss Vincent,” he had said in reply to a pretty little
remonstrance from the young lady, “the department of study
requiring most attention in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is
the financial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be a greater
benefactress to the charity than if you acted like a Kemble.”
Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made up her mind that
Mr. Markham's name should be closely associated with the
entertainment, and consequently, with her own name. Had she not
been at pains to put into circulation certain stories of the romance
surrounding him, and thus disposed of an unusual number of stalls?
For even if one is not possessed of any dramatic inclinations, one is
always ready to pay a price for looking at a man who has been
saved from a shipwreck, or who has been the co-respondent in
some notorious law case.
When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had been indulging in
a number of surmises regarding Lottie's intentions with respect to
Markham, heard that the young lady's father had been ordered to
proceed to Natal without delay, the information seemed to give them
a good deal of merriment. The man who offered four to one that
Lottie should not be able to get any lady friend to take charge of her
in Cape Town until her father's return, could get no one to accept his
odds; but his proposal of three to one that she would get Markham
to accompany her to Natal was eagerly taken up; so that there were
several remarks made at the mess reflecting upon the acuteness of
Mr. Markham's perception when it was learned that he was going
with the young lady and her father.
“You see,” remarked the man who had laid the odds, “I knew
something of Lottie in India, and I knew what she was equal to.”
“Lottie is a devilish smart child, by Jove,” said one of the losers
meditatively.
“Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some years ago,”
hazarded another subaltern.
There was a considerable pause before a third of this full bench
delivered final judgment as the result of the consideration of the
case.
“Poor beggar!” he remarked; “poor beggar! he's a finished coon.”
And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man whose career
had been defined for him by another in the plainest possible manner,
no member of the mess seemed to doubt.
During the first couple of days of the voyage round the coast,
when Miss Lottie would go to the side of Mr. Markham for the
purpose of consulting him on some important point of detail in the
intended performance, the shrewd young fellows of the regiment of
Bayonetteers pulled their phantom shreds of moustaches, and
brought the muscles of their faces about the eyes into play to a
remarkable extent, with a view of assuring one another of the
possession of an unusual amount of sagacity by the company to
which they belonged. But when, after the third day of rehearsals.
Lottie's manner of gentle persuasiveness towards them altered to
nasty bitter upbraidings of the young man who had committed the
trifling error of overlooking an entire scene here and there in
working out the character he was to bring before the audience, and
to a most hurtful glance of scorn at the other aspirant who had
marked off in the margin of his copy of the play all the dialogue he
was to speak, but who, unfortunately, had picked up a second copy
belonging to a young lady in which another part had been similarly
marked, so that he had, naturally enough, perfected himself in the
dialogue of the lady's rôle without knowing a letter of his own—
when, for such trifling slips as these, Lottie was found to be so
harsh, the deep young fellows made their facial muscles suggest a
doubt as to whether it might not be possible that Markham was of a
sterner and less malleable nature then they had at first believed him.
The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin Markham she
had been in considerable perplexity of mind. She had found out that
he was in by no means indigent circumstances; but even with her
guileless, careless perceptions, she was not long in becoming aware
that he was not likely to be moulded according to her desires; so,
while still behaving in a fascinating manner towards him, she had
had many agreeable half-hours with Mr. Glaston, who was infinitely
more plastic, she could see; but so soon as the order had come for
her father to go up to Natal she had returned in thought to Oswin
Markham, and had smiled to see the grins upon the expressive faces
of the officers of the Bayonetteers when she found herself by the
side of Oswin Markham. She rather liked these grins, for she had an
idea—in her own simple way, of course—that there is a general
tendency on the part of young people to associate when their names
have been previously associated. She knew that the fact of her
having persuaded this Mr. Markham to accompany her to Natal
would cause his name to be joined with hers pretty frequently, and
in her innocence she had no objection to make to this.
As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well what remarks
people would make on the subject of his departure in the steamer
with Lottie Vincent; he knew before he had been a day on the
voyage that the Bayonetteers regarded him as somewhat deficient in
firmness; but he felt that there was no occasion for him to be utterly
broken down in spirit on account of this opinion being held by the
Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but that he caught a glimpse now
and again of a facial distortion on the part of a member of the
company. He felt that it was probable these far-seeing fellows would
be disappointed at the result of their surmises.
And indeed the fellows of the regiment were beginning, before the
voyage was quite over, to feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not
altogether of the yielding nature which they had ascribed to him on
the grounds of his having promised Lottie Vincent to accompany her
and her father to Natal at this time. About Lottie herself there was
but one opinion expressed, and that was of such a character as any
one disposed to ingratiate himself with the girl by means of flattery
would hardly have hastened to communicate to her; for the poor
little thing had been so much worried of late over the rehearsals
which she was daily conducting aboard the steamer, that, failing to
meet with any expression of sympathy from Oswin Markham, she
had spoken very freely to some of the company in comment upon
their dramatic capacity, and not even an amateur actor likes to
receive unreserved comment of an unfavourable character upon his
powers.
“She is a confounded little humbug,” said one of the subalterns to
Oswin in confidence on the last day of the voyage. “Hang me if I
would have had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I had
known what sort of a girl she was. By George, you should hear the
stories Kirkham has on his fingers' ends about her in India.”
Oswin laughed quietly. “It would be rash, if not cruel, to believe all
the stories that are told about girls in India,” he said. “As for Miss
Vincent, I believe her to be a charming girl—as an actress.”
 “Yes,” said the lieutenant, who had not left his grinder on English
literature long enough to forget all that he had learned of the
literature of the past century—“yes; she is an actress among girls,
and a girl among actresses.”
“Good,” said Oswin; “very good. What is it that somebody or other
remarked about Lord Chesterfield as a wit?”
“Never mind,” said the other, ceasing the laugh he had
commenced. “What I say about Lottie is true.”
 CHAPTER XXX.
This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

Diseases desperate grown

By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.
... so you must take your husbands.

It is our trick. Nature her custom holds

Let shame say what it will: when these are gone
The woman will be out.—Hamlet.

O
F course,” said Lottie, as she stood by the side of Oswin
Markham when the small steamer which had been specially
engaged to take the field-officers of the Bayonetteers over
the dreaded bar of Durban harbour was approaching the quay—“of
course we shall all go together up to Pietermaritzburg. I have been
there before, you know. We shall have a coach all to ourselves from
Durban.” She looked up to his face with only the least questioning
expression upon her own. But Mr. Markham thought that he had
made quite enough promises previously: it would be unwise to
commit himself even in so small a detail as the manner of the
journey from the port of Durban to the garrison town of
Pietermaritzburg, which he knew was at a distance of upwards of
fifty miles.
“I have not the least idea what I shall do when we land,” he said.
“It is probable that I shall remain at the port for some days. I may
as well see all that there is on view in this part of the colony.”
This was very distressing to the young lady.
“Do you mean to desert me?” she asked somewhat reproachfully.
“Desert you?” he said in a puzzled way. “Ah, those are the words
in a scene in your part, are they not?”
Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endurance of a naturally
patient soul.
“Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against all my
difficulties, Mr. Markham?”
“I should be sorry to do that, Miss Vincent. If you have difficulties,
tell me what they are; and if they are of such a nature that they can
be curtailed by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself.”
“You know very well what idiots these Bayonetteers are,” cried
Lottie.
“I know that most of them have promised to act in your
theatricals,” replied Markham quietly; and Lottie tried to read his soul
in another of her glances to discover the exact shade of the meaning
of his words, but she gave up the quest.
“Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Markham,” she said, with a
coldness that was meant to appal him.
“And I trust that I may never be led to do so at the expense of
another,” he remarked.
“Then you will come in our coach?” she cried, brightening up.
“Pray do not descend to particulars when we are talking in this
vague way on broad matters of sentiment, Miss Vincent.”
“But I must know what you intend to do at once.”
“At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is possible to get a
dinner worth eating. After that—well, this is Tuesday, and on
Thursday week your entertainment will take place; before that day
you say you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to be by your
side at Pietermaritzburg on Saturday next.”
This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie on leaving
Cape Town had meant to be the result of the voyage to Natal. There
was a slight pause before she asked:
“What do you mean by treating me in this way? I always thought
you were my friend. What will papa say if you leave me to go up
there alone?”
This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the part of Miss Lottie,
but they were nearing the quay where she knew Oswin would be
free; aboard the mail steamer of course he was—well, scarcely free.
But Mr. Markham was one of those men who are least discomfited by
a daring stroke. He looked steadfastly at the girl so soon as she
uttered her words.
“The problem is too interesting to be allowed to pass, Miss
Vincent,” he said. “We shall do our best to have it answered. By
Jove, doesn't that man on the quay look like Harwood? It is
Harwood indeed, and I thought him among the Zulus.”
The first man caught sight of on the quay was indeed the special
correspondent of the Dominant Trumpeter. Lottie's manner changed
instantly on seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs on
noticing the puzzled expression upon his face as he replied to her
salutations while yet afar. She was very careful to keep by the side
of Oswin until the steamer was at the quay; and when at last
Harwood recognised the features of the two persons who had been
saluting him, she saw him look with a little smile first to herself, then
to Oswin, and she thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance
downwards and to repeat her girlish laugh.
Oswin saw Harwood's glance and heard Lottie's laugh. He also
heard the young lady making an explanation of certain matters, to
which Harwood answered with a second little smile.
“Kind? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come so long a distance for
the sake of assisting you. Nothing could be kinder.”
 “I feel it to be so indeed,” said Miss Vincent. “I feel that I can
never repay Mr. Markham.”
Again that smile came to Mr. Harwood as he said: “Do not take
such a gloomy view of the matter, my dear Miss Vincent; perhaps on
reflection some means may be suggested to you.”
“What can you mean?” cried the puzzled little thing, tripping away.
“Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, you see I am here
not more than a week behind yourself.”
“And you are looking better than I could have believed possible for
any one in the condition you were in when I left,” said Harwood.
“Upon my word, I did not expect much from you as I watched you
go up the stairs at the hotel after that wild ride of yours to and from
no place in particular. But, of course, there are circumstances under
which fellows look knocked up, and there are others that combine to
make them seem quite the contrary; now it seems to me you are
subject to the influence of the latter just at present.” He glanced as
if by accident over to where Lottie was making a pleasant little fuss
about some articles of her luggage.
“You are right,” said Markham—“quite right. I have reason to be
particularly elated just now, having got free from that steamer and
my fellow-passengers.”
“Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me as being
particularly good company,” said Harwood.
“And so they were. Now I must look after this precious
portmanteau of mine.”
“And assist that helpless little creature to look after hers,”
muttered Harwood when the other had left him. “Poor little Lottie! is
it possible that you have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will say
that you don't deserve something for your years of angling.”
Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just at this instant, for his
reflections on the behaviour of Markham during the last few days
they had been at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any
means been quieted since they had parted. He was sorry to be
compelled to leave Cape Town without making any discovery as to
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