"Yes," he answered, "that's it. Hunting you. It has been a long chase, but I have caught you at last."
"Really, I am not a wild creature, Mr. Ishmael," she said indignantly.
"No," he answered, "you are more beautiful and more dangerous than any wild creature."
Rachel looked at him. Then she made, as though she would pass him, saying that she was going home. Now Ishmael stood between two rocks filling the only egress from this place.
He stretched out his arms so that his fingers touched the rocks on either side, and said: "You can't. You must listen to me first. I came here to say what I have wanted to tell you for a long time. I love you, and I ask you to marry me."
"Indeed," she replied, setting her face. "How can that be? I understood that you were already married--several times over."
"Who told you that?" he asked, angrily. "I know--that accursed little witch, Noie."
"Don't speak any ill of Noie, please; she is my friend."
"Then you have a liar for your friend. Those women are only my servants."
"It doesn't matter to me what they are, Mr. Ishmael. I have no wish to know your private affairs. Shall we stop this talk, which is not pleasant?"
"No," he answered. "I tell you that I love you and I mean to marry you, with your will or without it. Let it be with your will, Rachel," he added, pleadingly, "for I will make you a good husband. Also I am well-born, much better than you think, and I am rich, rich enough to take you out of this country, if you like. I have thousands of cattle, and a great deal of money put by, good English gold that I have got from the sale of ivory. You shall come with me from among all these savage people back to England, and live as you like."
"Thank you, but I prefer the savages, as you seem to have done until now. No, do not try to touch me; you know that I can defend myself if I choose," and she glanced at the pistol which she always carried in that wild land, "I am not afraid of you, Mr. Ishmael; it is you who are afraid of me."
"Perhaps I am," he exclaimed, "because those Zulus are right, you are tagati, an enchantress, not like other women, white or black. If it were not so, would you have driven me mad as you have done? I tell you I can't sleep for thinking of you. Oh! Rachel, Rachel, don't be angry with me. Have pity on me. Give me some hope. I know that my life has been rough in the past, but I will become good again for your sake and live like a Christian. But if you refuse me, if you send me back to hell--then you shall learn what I can be."