ssed her.

"No, it's nothing," she said, "only a story which mamma told me."

But when she tried to smile, a sob broke out from her lips, and,
bursting into tears, she threw her arm round my neck, nestling her head
on my bosom.

"Good heavens! what's the matter, dear?" I exclaimed, quite alarmed.
"Tell me all about it, I entreat you. What has happened? And why are you
crying like this?"

She could not answer me. Her bosom heaved, and she seized my hand and
covered it with kisses, as if in order to demonstrate her love for me in
the midst of her distress.

I succeeded in calming her; and then, making her sit down by my side,
with her hands in mine, I pressed her to confess her troubles to me. Her
hesitation increased my alarm: she turned her eyes away from me, and I
could see that she feared to reply to me. At last, quite frantic with
anxiety, I resorted to my marital authority.

Then, with childlike submission, she related to me the following strange
story, which filled me with astonishment.

After luncheon her mother had joined her in the drawing-room, when in
the course of a general conversation she began to speak about their
native country and their family, and about the pleasure it would be for
them to revisit them after so long an absence. Kondje-Gul let her go on
in this strain, thinking that she was just indulging in one of those
dreams of a far-off future which the imagination is fond of cherishing,
however impossible their realisation may be. But soon she was very much
surprised by noticing that her mother was discussing this scheme as one
which might be carried out at an early date. She then questioned her
about it. At last, after a lot of fencing, Madame Murrah informed her
that she had learnt a marriage was arranged between me and Anna
Campbell, who had been betrothed to me for a long while past; also that
this marriage would take place in six months' time, and that I should
have to go away with my wife the day after the wedding.

The end of all these arrangements would be the abandonment of
Kondje-Gul.

I was dismayed by this unexpected revelation. The plan of my marriage
with Anna had remained a family secret, known only to my uncle, to
herself, to my aunt, and to me. How had it got to Madame Murrah's ears?
I was unable to conceal my uneasiness.

"But this marriage is true then?" continued my poor Kondje with an
anxious look in my face.

"Nothing is true but our love!" I replied, distressed b