mit, over which the Moon was hanging.
The peacefulness of the hour stole into his heart, and his brain calmed
down. The mountain suggested to him the past, and the pure, white mist
shrouding it seemed like vapour risen from the merciful waters of
Lethe. The Moon suggested hope, vague and undefined, lint still hope.
With the swing as of a pendulum his consciousness swept back from the
dark night of despondency and bathed its wings in light. Then his
soothed spirit felt the need of sleep, so he entered the house and
began to prepare for bed.

The waggon-road from the village scarped around the slope at the back
of the house, and he heard the clatter of a waggon passing along it.
The noise irritated him sorely--he could not tell why. Soon it ceased,
and he wondered why the waggon should have stopped where it did. A few
minutes afterwards he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, so he
paused in his undressing, wondering irritably who was coming to disturb
him. Then he heard a light tap at the front door.

Taking a candle, he went to the door and opened it. He saw before him a
woman. She was coloured, but of mixed race, the European element
evidently preponderating. She was elderly--certainly over forty years
of age--very thin; and she stooped somewhat. Her face was drawn and
haggard, but her eyes were still beautiful--black, large, and deep. She
was decently but poorly dressed.

"Good evening, sir," she said, speaking Dutch.

"Good evening," replied Kellson. "What do you want?"

"I beg your pardon. Sir, coming at this time to trouble you. I only
came because I am in great grief. But do you not know me?"

"No," said Kellson, after scanning her features carefully; "I do not
remember you. What is your name?"

"I am Rachel, sir."

"Rachel," he said, sharply; "not Rachel Arends?"

"Yes, Sir, I was Rachel Arends, but I married Martin Erlank, the
blacksmith of Ratel Hoek, just after you left, long ago."

Kellson turned sick at heart. Here was a reminder of a thing he had
fain forgotten, come to drive away the peace he had just acquired. Here
was the ghost of a sin of long ago, which had put on flesh and blood
and come back to haunt him. It was horrible. He looked at the woman--
she returned his gaze timidly for a moment, and then humbly drooped her
head. Her manner and attitude suggested woe and utter humility. Then a
wave of kindness and pity swept through him. Here was a fellow-creature
with whom he had tasted