ngerous spot in a thunderstorm, but
a great safeguard to the stead and trees round it, for the ironstone
cropped up here, and from the house one might often see flash after
flash striking down on to it, and even running and zigzagging about its
surface. To the left of this ironstone were some cultivated lands, and
in front of them the plantation, in which John was anxious to inspect
the recently planted wattles.

They walked up to the copse without saying a word. It was surrounded
by a ditch and a low sod wall, whereon Bessie seated herself, remarking
that she would wait there till he had looked at the trees, as she was
afraid of the puff-adders, whereof a large and thriving family were
known to live in this plantation.

John assented, observing that the puff-adders were brutes, and that he
must have some pigs turned in to destroy them, which the pigs effect
by munching them up, apparently without unpleasant consequences to
themselves. Then he departed on his errand, wending his way gingerly
through the feathery black wattles. It did not take long, and he saw
no puff-adders. When he had finished looking at the young trees, he
returned, still walking delicately like Agag. On reaching the border of
the plantation, he paused to look at Bessie, who was some twenty paces
from him, perched sideways on the low sod wall, and framed, as it were,
in the full rich light of the setting sun. Her hat was off, for the sun
had lost its burning force, and the hand that held it hung idly by her,
while her eyes were fixed on the horizon flaming with all the varied
glories of an African sunset. He gazed at her sweet face and lissom
form, and some lines that he had read years before floated into his
mind--

The little curls about her head
Were all her crown of gold,
Her delicate arms drooped downwards
In slender mould,
As white-veined leaves of lilies
Curve and fold.
She moved to measures of music,
As a swan sails the stream--

He had got thus far when she turned and saw him, and he abandoned poetry
in the presence of one who might well have inspired it.

"What are you looking at?" she said with a smile; "the sunset?"

"No; I was looking at you."

"Then you might have been better employed with the sky," she answered,
turning her head quickly. "Look at it! Did you ever see such a
sunset? We sometimes get them like that at this time of year when the
thunderstorms are about."

She was right