preacher then and there.

One thing that struck Eanswyth as not a little strange was that hardly a
Kafir had been near the place, whereas formerly their dusky neighbours
had been wont to visit them on one pretext or another enough and to
spare, the latter especially, in poor Tom's opinion. She had sent word
to Nteya, inviting him to visit her and have a talk, but the old chief
had made some excuse, promising, however, to come over and see her
later. All this looked strange and, taken in conjunction with the fact
that there had been war-dancing again in Nteya's location, suspicious.
So thought at any rate Josane, who gave vent to his misgivings in no
uncertain tone. But Eanswyth treated his warnings with perfect
unconcern. She would not move, she declared. She was afraid of nobody.
If Josane was, he might go if he liked. To which the staunch old
fellow would reply that he feared no man, black or white; that he was
there to take care of her, and there he would stay, adding, with a
growl, that it might be bad for Nteya's, or anybody else's, people
should they attempt to molest her.

It wanted but a day or two to Christmas--but an hour to sunset. It was
one of those marvellous evenings not uncommon in South Africa, as well
as in the southern parts of Europe--one of those evenings when sky and
earth alike are vivid with rich colouring, and the cloudless blue of the
heavens assumes a deeper azure still, and there is a dreamy enchantment
in the air, and every sight, every sound, toned and mellowed by
distance, blends in perfect harmony with the changing glories of the
dying day. Then the sun goes down in a flaming rainbow of rare tints,
each more subtle than the other, each more gorgeous, and withal more
delicate than the last.

The enchantment of the hour was upon Eanswyth to the full--the
loneliness, the sense of absolute solitude, cut off from the outer
world, alone with her dead. Wandering down to the gate of the now
tenantless ostrich camp she is going over the incidents of that last
day--that first and that last day, for it was that upon which they had
discovered to each other their great and all-absorbing love. "The last
day we shall have together," he had said--and it was so. She can
vividly conjure up his presence at her side now. Every word he said,
every careless gesture even, comes back to her now. Here was the gate
where they had stood feeding the great birds, idly chatting about
nothing in partic