dge.

Then as I stood within the coolness of the garden, which covered some
acreage of the side of the slope, I gained a most wonderful impression
of the place that was destined to prove my home for a long time to come,
and in whose joys and sorrows--yes, and impending tragedies of dark
vendetta and bloodshed--I was fated to be associated. Below the house
lay the sheep kraals, and already a woolly cataract was streaming into
one of the thorn-protected enclosures, while another awaited its turn at
a little distance off. The cattle kraal, too, was alive with dappled
hides, and one unintermittent "moo" of restless and hungry calves, while
a blue curling smoke reek from the huts of the Kafir farm servants rose
upon the still evening atmosphere. What is there about that marvellous
African sunset glow? I have seen it many a time since, under far
different conditions--under the steamy heat of the lower Zambesi region,
and amid piercing cold with many degrees of frost on the high Karoo; in
the light dry air of the Kalahari, and in the languorous, semi-tropical
richness of beautiful Natal; but never quite as I saw it that evening,
standing beside Beryl Matterson. It was as a scene cut out of Eden,
that wondrous changing glow which rested upon the whole valley, playing
upon the rolling sea of foliage like the sweep of golden waves, striking
the iron face of a noble cliff with a glint of bronze, then dying, to
leave a pearly atmosphere redolent of distilling aromatic herbs, tuneful
with the cooing of myriad doves and the whistle of plover and the hum of
strange winged insects coming forth on their nightly quests.

"Let's see. How long is it since you and Brian saw each other last, Mr
Holt?" said my companion as we strolled between high quince hedges.

"Why, it must have been quite twelve years, rather over than under. And
most of the time has not been good, as far as I was concerned. The
financial crash that forced me to leave school when I did, kept me for
years in a state of sedentary drudgery for a pittance. Something was
saved out of the wreck at last, but by that time I had grown `groovy'
and fought shy of launching out into anything that involved risk. I
preferred to keep my poor little one talent in a napkin, to the
possibility of losing it in the process of turning it into two."

She looked interested as she listened. The face which I had thought
hard grew soft, sympathetic, and wholly alluring.

"There's a