act, what is entirely
untrue," he answered, with some vague stirring over the emphasis
wherewith he did answer, remembering the psychological moment of two or
three nights ago.

"You met the Patriot here not long since, did you not, Mr Kershaw?"
said Aletta, changing the subject with perfect ease.

"Which Patriot? There are so many patriots now," he replied.

"Why, _the_ Patriot. The one from Pretoria, of course."

"Andries Botma? Oh yes, I met him. We had some very interesting talk
together. I had long wanted to see him."

"But--but--you are not of us," said the girl, looking up quickly from
her work-basket.

"This little girl is a red-hot patriot, Colvin," said Stephanus, resting
a large hand lightly upon the silky brown coil. "But, to be serious, I
hope this will all quiet down and find its level."

"Of course; are we not all jolly good friends together, Stephanus? We
don't want to be at each other's throats at the bidding of other
people."

This remark brought Aletta up.

"But you said you had long wanted to meet the Patriot, Mr Kershaw. Why
did you want to see him, then?"

"Because he is something unique--a really honest agitator. He means
what he says and believes every word of it most thoroughly. He is full
of _verve_ and fire--in a word, a strong man. His is an immensely
striking personality."

"Well done, well done," cried Aletta, clapping her hands
enthusiastically. "I shall make a convert of you yet. Oh yes, I
shall."

It became bedtime. As she gave him his candle Colvin once more could
not help being struck with the refined grace of Aletta's every
movement--the soft, clear, thoroughbred tone of her voice. She seemed
somehow to have been cast in a different mould from her sisters, to whom
he had always pictured her as inferior both in looks and presence. It
fairly puzzled him. The tones of her voice seemed to linger long after
he had retired. He had had a long, tiring, exciting day--had undergone
a very narrow escape for his life--which circumstance, by the way, he
had not yet mentioned to his host, being desirous to sleep on it first,
and having enjoined strict silence upon his retainer--yet, now that he
should have dropped into a sound, recuperative slumber, he could not.
And the sole reason that he could not--as he must perforce admit to
himself in the darkness and privacy of his chamber--was the recollection
of this girl whom he had met but the first time that night--here