, for I ought to know by this time. They would start by scouting
the idea; ten to one they would deny the premise, and retort that life
was just what we chose to make it; which is a fallacy, in that it
assumes that any one atom in the human scheme is absolutely
independent--firstly, of the rest of the crowd; secondly, of
circumstances--in fact, is competent to boss the former and direct the
latter. Which, in the words of the immortal Euclid, is absurd."

"Yet if any man is thus competent, it is yourself, Eustace."

"No," he said, shaking his head meditatively. "You are mistaken. I am
certainly not independent of the action of anyone who may elect to do me
a good or an ill turn. He, she, or it, has me at a disadvantage all
round, for I possess the gift of foresight in a degree so limited as to
be practically _nil_. As for circumstances--so far from pretending to
direct them I am the mere creature of them. So are we all."

"What has started you upon this train of thought?" she asked suddenly.

"Several things. But I'll give you an instance of what I was saying
just now. This morning I was surprised and surrounded by a gang of
Kafirs, all armed to the teeth. Nearly all of them were on the very
verge of shying their assegais bang through me, and if Ncanduku--you
know him--Nteya's brother--hadn't appeared on the scene just in the very
nick of time, I should have been a dead man. As it was, we sat down,
had an _indaba_ and a friendly smoke, and parted on the best of terms.
Now, wasn't I helplessly, abjectly, the creature of circumstances--first
in being molested at all--second in Ncanduku's lucky arrival?"

"Eustace! And you never told me this!"

"I told Tom--just as he was starting--and he laughed. He didn't seem to
think much of it. To tell the truth, neither did I. Why--what's the
matter, Eanswyth?"

Her face was deathly white. Her eyes, wide open, were dilated with
horror; then they filled with tears. The next moment she was sobbing
wildly--locked in his close embrace.

"Eanswyth, darling--my darling. What is it? Do not give way so! There
is nothing to be alarmed about now--nothing."

His tones had sunk to a murmur of thrilling tenderness. He was
showering kisses upon her lips, her brow, her eyes--upon stray tresses
of soft hair which escaped beneath her hat. What had become of their
attitude of guarded self-control now? Broken down, swept away at one
stroke as the swollen mountain stream s