centre of the opposing line. And the
wild cheers of the soldiers reached them through the incessant din and
roar of fire. At the same time those in the trenches on the further
side of the river had abandoned their position and retired across.

The sun was sinking now. It was hard to realise that a whole day had
been passed in the turmoil of this unending rattle and noise. Yet to
Colvin the effect was almost as though he had spent his whole life in
it. His mind represented but a confused notion of what he had
witnessed, of what he had been through; and when at nightfall the word
was silently passed to retire, to evacuate the position, and take up
another, some miles in the rear, where everything was more favourable to
meet and again withstand a sorely tried but valorous and persistent foe,
he seemed to regard it as no more of an out-of-the-way circumstance than
the order to inspan a waggon or two. Yet he had spent that day
witnessing one of the fiercest and most stubbornly contested battles in
which his country's arms had been engaged within the current century.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

OCULAR EVIDENCE.

Not until Colvin had gone did Aletta actually realise all that that
parting meant.

Why had she let him go? she asked herself, a score of times a day. She
could have restrained him had she put forth all her influence. Why were
men so restless? Why could not this one have sat still and made the
most of the happiness that was his--that was theirs? Ah, and now those
happy times--and they had been happy times--were in the past. Never to
come again, perhaps--her heart added with a sinking chill.

If the English would but make peace; and then she remembered, with sad
amusement, her patriotic enthusiasms in the old days at Ratels Hoek, and
how condescendingly she had been willing that her countrymen should
allow a few English to remain, during her discussions with Adrian--yes,
and even with Colvin himself. What now was the patriotic cause to her?
She was only conscious of an empty, aching, and utterly desolate heart.

"Aletta is fretting, Piet," said the latter's consort one day--the
subject of the remark not being present. "She is fretting terribly. I
can see it, although she is very brave, and tries not to show it. I did
not think she had it in her to allow herself to be so entirely wrapped
up in one man, and that an Englishman. What can we do to cheer her up?"

"Get the `one man' back, I suppose," rejoin