tered, as the cackling and
clucking, mingled this time with some fluttering, arose outside, soon
after the extinguishing of the light. But the disturbance subsided--nor
did it again arise that night, as he lay there, hour after hour,
thinking, ever thinking.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HER."

Bright and clear and cold, the morning arose. There had been a touch of
frost in the night, and the house, lying back in its enclosure of aloe
fence, looked as though roofed with a sheeting of silver in the sparkle
of the rising sun. The spreading veldt, too, in the flash of its dewy
sheen, seemed to lend a deeper blue to the dazzling, unclouded vault
above. The metallic clatter of milk-pails in the cattle-kraal hard by
mingled with the deep-toned hum of Kaffir voices; a troop of young
ostriches turned loose were darting to and fro, or waltzing, and
playfully kicking at each other; and so still and clear was the air,
that the whistling call of partridges down in an old mealie land nearly
a mile away was plainly audible.

"Where's West?" Bayfield was saying, as three out of the four men were
standing by the gate, finishing their early coffee.

"Oh, he's a lazy beggar," answered Earle, putting down his cup on a
stone. "He don't like turning out much before breakfast-time."

"I believe you'll miss some of your fowls this morning, Earle," said
Blachland. "There was a cat or something after them last night. They
were kicking up the devil's own row outside our window. Percy wanted to
try a shot at it, whatever it was, but I choked him off that lay because
I thought it'd scare the house."

"Might have been a two-legged cat," rejoined Earle. "And it isn't
worthwhile shooting even a poor devil of a thieving nigger for the sake
of a chicken or two."

"Who are you wanting to shoot, Mr Earle?"

"Ah! Good morning, Mrs Fenham. Blachland was saying there was a cat
or something after the fowls last night, and it was all he could do to
keep West from blazing off a gun at it. I suggested it might have been
a two-legged cat--ha--ha!"

"Possibly," she answered with a smile. "I'm going to take a little
stroll. It's such a lovely morning. Will you go with me, Mr
Blachland?"

"Delighted," was the answer.

The two left behind nudged each other.

"Old Blachland's got it too," quoth Earle, with a knowing wink. "I say,
though, the young 'un 'll be ready to cut his throat when he finds he's
been stolen a march