her--not in these days, though I have
known the meaning of cruel straits--and can do what I like and go where
I like, within modest limits. But I have been very happy here--I don't
know when I have enjoyed any time so much."

"I should have thought you'd have found it beastly slow," said Edala,
wonderingly, and speaking in the light of her own unsatisfied
aspirations. Her new relative was a great enigma to her. Why, for
instance, with all her advantages had she never married? though this to
her was nothing very wonderful, for she herself, given the same
advantages, would have thought of that time-honoured institution as so
remote a contingency as not to be worth consideration. Again she seldom
said much about her people, or her earlier life, except in a vague and
generalising sort of way.

"Anything but that," answered Evelyn. "Why I feel in twice the form I
was in when I came."

"You look it too."

This was bare fact. The joyous, healthy, outdoor life in a splendid and
genial climate, had set its mark upon Evelyn Carden; had heightened her
outward attractions, at the first not inconsiderable, as we have shown.

"You know," went on Edala, "there are precious few places in this
country where they five the life we live--I mean as far as we womenkind
are concerned. Anywhere else you'd have been stuck down to read, and
play the piano, and talk gossip--with an occasional ride or drive to
some similar and neighbouring place to go through the same exercises
within the limit of a day. They wouldn't have stuck you on a horse, and
romped you about over all sorts of rough country, bushbuck hunting and
all that. Why they'd be horrified at the bare idea--though, I forgot--
we haven't been able to teach you to shoot, yet."

Evelyn laughed.

"I'm sorry to say you haven't, and I'm sadly afraid now that you never
will. I suppose I haven't been caught young enough."

Both Edala and her father had done all they knew how to impart that
instruction. They had assured. Evelyn that within a week at the
outside she would be able to turn over her first bushbuck. But it was
of no use. She got plenty of chances, but when the rushing, frightened
antelope broke covert and bounded by like the wind, her nerve played her
tricks, and she would blindly lash off both barrels at anything or
nothing. And then, too, the gun would kick, as even the best gun will
do if badly held; and after a bruised cheekbone, and a badly aching
shoul