is wealth, has left Marico, the garden
of the Transvaal, as men call it."

The man had gazed long and fixedly as Hendrika spoke. His eyes seemed
to have softened, and a very visible pleasure was in them. And, indeed,
Hendrika Van Staden was worth looking at. Clad though she was in a
plain gown of rough brown material, bought at some up-country store and
fashioned by herself, the admirable curves of her straight, well-rounded
figure could not be concealed. Few Boer women can boast a figure. Here
was a waist whose trim outlines would have done no disgrace to a
well-set-up English girl. Matron though she was, the tall, shapely
woman stood like a straight sapling upon the firm yellow sand. The
broad chest and shoulders supported erect upon a strong and shapely neck
a beautiful head. And the face? Well, most people would have agreed
with Schalk Oosthuysen, whose eyes gazed with unconcealable admiration
into Hendrika's. The parting sunlight lent a wonderful charm to the
oval face and the fair, clear complexion, so unlike the muddy skin of
most Boer women. The soft rosy cheeks--just touched with a suspicion of
African tan,--the white forehead, straight nose and proud lips, and the
dark blue eyes, all set in a frame of golden yellow hair, every strand
of it now glorified by the loving sun-rays, which the great sun-bonnet
(_kapje_) ill-concealed--all went to complete a picture of feminine
beauty that few Transvaalers--certainly not Schalk Oosthuysen--could
resist.

Hendrika had, like most Dutch girls, married young; and now, mother
though she was of a child more than six years old, was in the very pride
and summer of her rich beauty.

Oosthuysen, without moving his gaze, spoke again.

"No one should know better than you, Hendrika, why I am leaving Marico
and going to tempt fortune in the unknown veldt. How can I rest? Ever
since I saw you, ever since the sunny years of our childhood, I have
thought of you, dreamed of you. I can never marry now, unless--well,
unless you should ever become free again, which is not likely before we
are old people. It was you, Hendrika, that broke my happiness and
disturbed my lot. Allemaghte! I am sorry almost that you have joined
this trek."

"Schalk, you have no right to speak like that. You know it was not my
fault that I could not become your wife. My father had his reasons--
good reasons, as I suppose; and I have a good husband, and am contented.
Never speak of these t