the others on board that ship, but
a year or more ago, how I know not, a rumour reached them that one male
child who answered to his description had been saved alive and adopted
by some boers living in the Transkei. By this time the property and the
title that should be his had descended to a cousin of the child's, but
this relation being a just man determined before he took them to come
to Africa and find out the truth for himself, and there he is at Port
Elizabeth, or rather by this time he is on his road to our place.
Therefore it would seem that the day is at hand when we shall see the
last of Ralph."
"Never!" I said, "he is a son to us and more than a son, and I will not
give him up."
"Then they will take him, wife. Yes, even if he does not wish it, for he
is a minor and they are armed with authority."
"Oh!" I cried, "it would break my heart, and, Jan, there is another
heart that would break also," and I pointed towards the chamber where
Suzanne slept.
He nodded, for none could live with them and not know that this youth
and maiden loved each other dearly.
"It would break your heart," he answered, "and her heart; yes, and my
own would be none the better for the wrench; yet how can we turn this
evil from our door?"
"Jan," I said, "the winter is at hand; it is time that you and Ralph
should take the cattle to the bush-veldt yonder, where they will lie
warm and grow fat, for so large a herd cannot be trusted to the Kaffirs.
Had you not better start to-morrow? If these English meddlers should
come here I will talk with them. Did Suzanne save the boy for them? Did
we rear him for them, although he was English? Think how you will feel
when he has crossed the ridge yonder for the last time, you who are
sonless, and you must go about your tasks alone, must ride alone and
hunt alone, and, if need be, fight alone, except for his memory. Think,
Jan, think."
"Do not tempt me, woman," he whispered back in a hoarse voice, for
Ralph and he were more to each other than any father and son that I have
known, since they were also the dearest of friends. "Do not tempt me,"
he went on; "the lad must himself be told of this, and he must judge;
he is young, but among us at nineteen a youth is a burgher grown, with a
right to take up land and marry. He must be told, I say, and at once."
"It is good," I said, "let him judge;" but in the wickedness of my heart
I made up my mind that I would find means to help his judgment,
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