this man out of her mind. With time and
determination she supposed it could be done. She must grow to regard
him as one who had passed out of her life, as one who was as completely
dead to her as though actually so to this world, and must contemplate
the fact with equanimity, with utter indifference. Oh yes, that would
come--in time.

Would it? This was a very changed Aletta now, and the merry, happy,
spontaneous peal of laughter was never now heard--even the faint and
ghostly semblance of it but seldom. The sweet, bright, radiant spirits
seemed to have found a grave. Yes, on the whole, perhaps it was as well
that these relatives of hers were too old, and other people too
preoccupied with the movement of events around, to notice the
difference.

"Missis, I have something to say," exclaimed a voice in Dutch. Looking
up, Aletta saw a tall, ragged, travel-worn looking yellow man. His
hands were trembling as he fumbled with the catch of the garden gate.
She came quickly down the garden path to meet him, realising as she did
so, that her walk was somewhat unsteady. For in the man who had thus
suddenly broken in upon her meditations she recognised Colvin's Griqua
servant, Gert Bondelzwart.

"I have dreadful news for you, Missis," jerked forth the latter, his
voice shaking with excitement. "They are--going to shoot him!"

Aletta could feel her cheeks grow pale and icy.

"Who is going to shoot whom?" her bloodless lips managed to gasp forth.

"Baas Colvin. _Die Boeren mensche_," he answered. "_Ja_, they have
sent in now for the _predikant_ to come out to the Baas. He is to be
shot to-morrow morning."

"Oh, good God!"--No, she must not faint, she must act. "Where, Gert?"
she went on. "Where?"

"At Krantz Kop, Missis. Gideon Roux' place--Schoeman's commando."

"Has Mynheer started yet? Quick! Say."

"_Nee_, Missis, not yet. Four burghers came to escort him out, and they
have off-saddled while the _predikant_ is inspanning. Oh, _mijn lieve
Baas_--_mijn lieve Baas_! What can be done, Missis? What can be done?"

The fellow was actually weeping. Even in the agony of the moment the
thought flashed through Aletta's mind that this man could command such
devoted attachment from even a Hottentot.

"What can be done!" she repeated. "This is what you have to do, Gert.
Saddle up the _rooi-schimmel_ there in the stable. Put a man's saddle
on him, for _you_ will have to ride him, and come round with me to