lminating in cliff wall, or jagged, naked crags.
Here and there in the distance, a white dot upon the green, lay a Boer
homestead, and a scattered patch of moving objects where grazed a flock
of sheep or goats. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun, now not far
from his western dip behind yon cluster of ironstone peaks, shed upon
this bright, wavy, open landscape that marvellous effect of clear and
golden radiance which renders the close of a cloudless day upon the High
Veldt something like a dream of enchanted worlds.

They were rather silent, these two. The thrilling, vivid happiness of
the one, was dashed by a certain amount of apprehensive dread on behalf
of the other, who was going quite unnecessarily to expose himself to
danger, possibly great, possibly small, but at any rate unnecessary. On
the part of that other, well, what had he to do with anything so
delusive as the fleeting and temporary thing called happiness, he whose
life was all behind him? Yet he was very--contented; that is how he put
it; and he owned to himself that he was daily growing more and more--
contented.

"I can't make out what has come over us," he said, as though talking to
himself, but in his voice there was that which made Mona's heart leap,
for she knew she was fast attaining that which she most desired in life.
Then they talked--talked of ordinary things, such as all the world
might have listened to; but the tone--ah! there was no disguising that.
Thus they cantered along in the sweet, pure air, over the springy plain,
against the background of great mountain range, and soon the walls of
the homestead drew in sight, and Mrs Suffield came out to greet them,
and the dogs broke into fearful clamour only equalled by that of the
children, and the two Boers dismounted with alacrity to go in, sure of a
good glass of grog or two beneath Suffield's hospitable roof, ere they
should resume their homeward way.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"IT IS SWEETER TO LOVE--IT IS WISER TO DARE."

Now night had fallen, and at Quaggasfontein the sounds of household and
nursery were alike hushed, and these four sat out upon the _stoep_,
enjoying the still freshness; discussing, too, Roden's trip to the
nearest seat of hostilities, on which topic Grace Suffield was inclined
to be not a little resentful.

"How can you go out of your way to shoot a lot of wretched Kaffirs, who
haven't done you any harm, Mr Musgrave?" she said.

"That holds good as regards m