s your love stood
between me and death, as I have told you. Yet of the third time I have
never told you. It was the day I decided to go up-country. I had done
with life. The pistol was pressed hard against my forehead. I was
gradually trying how much more pressure the trigger would bear. A hair's
breadth would have done it. Then it seemed that your voice was in my
ear. Your form stood before me. I tell you, Lilith, you saved me that
day as surely as though you had actually been within the room. I put the
pistol down."

"I did this?" wonderingly. "Why, that must have been the day I had that
awful dream."

"It was. Hazon came in just after, and we made our plans for the
expedition. I remember telling you of it that same afternoon."

"Why, then, if this is so, it must have been with some great purpose,"
she cried, brightening up, a strange, wistful smile illumining her
face. "Oh, how glad I am you have told me this, for now I can see
comfort--strength. In some mysterious way it seems as if our two lives
were intertwined, that it would ever be in my power in some dim way to
watch over yours. My darling, my darling--until this moment I had not
the strength to part with you--now I have. Let me do so before it leaves
me, for we have been here a very long time. I would have seen you off on
board, but that I dare not. I simply lack the strength of will to bear
that, Laurence, my dear one. We had better say good-bye here--not in the
crowded street. Then I will go--alone."

Both had risen, and were holding each other's hands, were gazing into
each other's eyes. Thus they stood for a moment. Nobody was in sight.
Lilith lifted her lips, and they moved in a barely audible murmur.

"Good-bye, my ideal!"

One long, close, farewell kiss, and she was gone. And the man, as he
flung himself back on the garden seat, with his eyes fixed dreamily on
the jutting end of the massive rock wall of Table Mountain towering on
high to the cloudless blue, realized at that moment no elation such as
one might feel who had found considerable wealth, and was returning full
of hard, firm health to enjoy the same. More than ever at that moment
did life seem to him all out of joint--more than ever, if possible; for
his had been one of those lives which, from the cradle to the grave,
never seems to be anything else.

CHAPTER XXXI.

CONCLUSION.

"Well, Fay, I think that's about enough for one lesson. Down you get."

"Just once more round t