hey were very far away. Death
reigned within her who outwardly was so fair to see.

In the society of her father, indeed, she took pleasure, for he loved
her, and love comforted her wounded heart. In that of Jacob Meyer also
she found interest, for now her first fear of the man had died away,
and undoubtedly he was very interesting; well-bred also after a fashion,
although a Jew who had lost his own faith and rejected that of the
Christians.

He told her that he was a German by birth, that he had been sent to
England as a boy, to avoid the conscription, which Jews dislike, since
in soldiering there is little profit. Here he had become a clerk in a
house of South African merchants, and, as a consequence--having shown
all the ability of his race--was despatched to take charge of a branch
business in Cape Colony. What happened to him there Benita never
discovered, but probably he had shown too much ability of an oblique
nature. At any rate, his connection with the firm terminated, and for
years he became a wandering "smouse," or trader, until at length he
drifted into partnership with her father.

Whatever might have been his past, however, soon she found that he was
an extremely able and agreeable man. It was he and no other who had
painted the water-colours that adorned her room, and he could play and
sing as well as he painted. Also, as Robert had told her, Mr. Meyer was
very well-read in subjects that are not usually studied on the veld
of South Africa; indeed, he had quite a library of books, most of them
histories or philosophical and scientific works, of which he would lend
her volumes. Fiction, however, he never read, for the reason, he told
her, that he found life itself and the mysteries and problems which
surround it so much more interesting.

One evening, when they were walking together by the lake, watching
the long lights of sunset break and quiver upon its surface, Benita's
curiosity overcame her, and she asked him boldly how it happened that
such a man as he was content to live the life he did.

"In order that I may reach a better," he answered. "Oh! no, not in the
skies, Miss Clifford, for of them I know nothing, nor, as I believe, is
there anything to know. But here--here."

"What do you mean by a better life, Mr. Meyer?"

"I mean," he answered, with a flash of his dark eyes, "great wealth,
and the power that wealth brings. Ah! I see you think me very sordid and
materialistic, but money is God in