commanded an immense view to the south and
westward. Range upon range of rolling slope and wooded ridge lay there
outspread--vast and scarcely inhabited country, a land given over to
wild game and a few shrinking, starving remnants of tribes living in
daily fear of the sweep of the terrible Matabele besom. The evening was
still, and golden, and beautiful, and, seated under a mahobo-hobo tree,
Blachland lit his pipe, and began to think out the position.

So Hermia was tired of their life together! He had seen it coming on,
and at first the knowledge had caused him some concern. He contrasted
the lives of other pioneers, living all alone, or in native fashion,
with two or three dusky-hued daughters of the land, in rough,
uncivilised manner, growing more and more into the happy-go-lucky,
soulless simplicity of life of the barbarous aborigines themselves,--
contrasted them with the life he himself led, its comfort, and refined
companionship, and, until lately, love,--and, doing so, a qualm of
regret tinged his mind. It was evanescent however. For he himself was
growing tired of this mode of life. He had embarked on it when he and
Hermia had reckoned the world well lost for each other's sake. Now,
neither of them so reckoned any more; nay, further, to be perfectly
candid with themselves, they wondered how they ever could have. Why not
leave it then, move to some more cheerful and civilised quarter of the
globe? To do so would be tantamount to leaving each other.

Hermia had taxed him with being jealous, and he had replied, and
rightly, that he was past the capacity for any such foolishness. But he
had no intention of remaining her dupe. That he had ample cause for
jealousy in the matter just under discussion, he was well aware; but
that was nothing to what he would meet with should they return to
civilisation together. She could no more cleave to one, and one only,
than she could fly over the moon. They had better part.

Over the vast roll of country beneath, stretching away into misty
dimness, his glance swept. How would he take to civilisation again?
The old restlessness would come upon him. The wandering up-country life
had got into his system. The other kind, too, was not so very great as
to lure him back to it either. He supposed he had made a mess of
things. Well, most people did one way and another, and it couldn't be
helped.

Up the slope, through the sparse bushes, a herd of cattle was
threadi