that she hates."

"My dear friend," said the stranger, "I am Irish every inch of
me--father Irish, mother Irish. I've not a drop of English blood in my
veins."

"And you might not be married, might you?" persisted the German. "If you
had a wife and children, now? Dutch people do not like those who are not
married."

"Ah," said the stranger, looking tenderly at the block, "I have a dear
wife and three sweet little children--two lovely girls and a noble boy."

This information having been conveyed to the Boer-woman, she, after some
further conversation, appeared slightly mollified; but remained firm to
her conviction that the man's designs were evil.

"For, dear Lord!" she cried; "all Englishmen are ugly; but was there
ever such a red-rag-nosed thing with broken boots and crooked eyes
before? Take him to your room," she cried to the German; "but all the
sin he does I lay at your door."

The German having told him how matters were arranged, the stranger made
a profound bow to Tant Sannie and followed his host, who led the way to
his own little room.

"I thought she would come to her better self soon," the German said
joyously. "Tant Sannie is not wholly bad, far from it, far." Then seeing
his companion cast a furtive glance at him, which he mistook for one of
surprise, he added quickly, "Ah, yes, yes; we are all a primitive people
here--not very lofty. We deal not in titles. Every one is Tante and
Oom--aunt and uncle. This may be my room," he said, opening the door.
"It is rough, the room is rough; not a palace--not quite. But it may be
better than the fields, a little better!" he said, glancing round at his
companion. "Come in, come in. There is something to eat--a mouthful: not
the fare of emperors or kings; but we do not starve, not yet," he
said, rubbing his hands together and looking round with a pleased,
half-nervous smile on his old face.

"My friend, my dear friend," said the stranger, seizing him by the hand,
"may the Lord bless you, the Lord bless and reward you--the God of the
fatherless and the stranger. But for you I would this night have slept
in the fields, with the dews of heaven upon my head."

Late that evening Lyndall came down to the cabin with the German's
rations. Through the tiny square window the light streamed forth, and
without knocking she raised the latch and entered. There was a fire
burning on the hearth, and it cast its ruddy glow over the little dingy
room, with its worm-eaten ra