a deprecatory smile. "I
should be ten times more nervous if I were right away, and, as I said
before, I don't believe the Kafirs would do me the slightest harm."

Eustace, though he had every reason to suppose the contrary, said
nothing as he rose from the table and began to fill his pipe. He was
conscious of a wild thrill of delight at her steadfast refusal. What
would life be worth here without that presence? Well, come what might,
no harm should fall upon her, of that he made mental oath.

Eanswyth, having superintended the clearing of the table by the two
little Kafir girls who filled the _role_ rather indifferent handmaidens,
joined him on the _stoep_. It was a lovely night; warm and balmy. The
dark vault above was so crowded with stars that they seemed to hang in
golden patches.

"Shall we walk a little way down the kloof and see if we can meet Tom,"
she suggested.

"A good idea. Just half a minute though. I want to get another pipe."

He went into his room, slipped a "bull-dog" revolver of heavy calibre
into his pocket, and quickly rejoined her.

Then as they walked side by side--they two, alone together in the
darkness, alone in the sweet, soft beauty of the Southern night; alone,
as it were, outside the very world; in a world apart where none might
intrude; the rich shroud of darkness around them--Eustace began to
wonder if he were really made of flesh and blood after all. The pent-up
force of his self-contained and concentrated nature was in sore danger
of breaking its barriers, of pouring forth the fires and molten lava
raging within--and to do so would be ruin--utter, endless, irretrievable
ruin to any hopes which he might have ventured to form.

He could see every feature of that sweet, patrician face in the
starlight. The even, musical tones of that exquisitely modulated voice,
within a yard of his ears, fairly maddened him. The rich, balmy zephyrs
of the African night breathed around; the chirrup of the cricket, and
now and again the deep-throated booming croak of a bull-frog from an
adjacent _vlei_ emphasising its stillness. Again those wild, raging
fires surged up to the surface. "Eanswyth, I love you--love you--
worship you--adore you! Apart from you, life is worse than a blank!
Who, what, is the dull, sodden, senseless lout who now stands between
us? Forget him, darling, and be all heaven and earth to me!" The words
blazed through his brain in letters of flame. He could hardly