the true merits of the questions that trouble us. There is the
abolition of slavery, for instance: many on both sides are convinced as
to the propriety of that, but nearly all are agreed in condemning the
way in which it is being gone about, believing that the consequences to
many of the slaveholders will be ruinous. But it is useless to go into
such matters now, Gertie. Right or wrong, many of the Dutch farmers are
talking seriously of going out of the colony, and my father, I grieve to
say, is among the number."

"And you, Hans?"

"I will remain on the old homestead--at least for a time. If things
improve we may induce father to return; if not, I will follow him into
the wilderness."

"And what of Considine?" asked Gertie.

"He remains to help me to manage the farm. There is no chance for him
in the present exasperated state of my father's mind. He unhappily
extends his indignation against England to Englishmen, and vows that my
sister Bertha shall never wed Charlie Considine."

"Is he likely to continue in that mind?"

"I think so."

"Then there is indeed no chance for poor Charlie," was the rejoinder,
"for Bertha Marais will never marry in direct opposition to her father's
wishes. Heigho! 'Tis the old story about the course of true love."

"He may change--he _will_ change his mind, I think," said Hans, "but in
the meantime he will go off into the wilderness, carrying Bertha along
with him. I would have gone with him myself without hesitation, had it
not been that I cannot bear to think of tearing you away just yet from
the old people, and I may perhaps do some good here in the way of saving
the old home."

Hans looked round with a somewhat mournful gaze at the home of his
childhood, which bore evidences of the preparations that were being made
by Conrad Marais to leave it.

That evening a large party of disaffected boers arrived at the homestead
of Conrad Marais, with waggons, wives, children, goods, and arms, on
their way to the far north. Some of these men were sterling fellows,
good husbands and fathers and masters, but with fiery independent
spirits, which could not brook the restraints laid on them by a
Government that had too frequently aroused their contempt or
indignation. Others were cruel, selfish savages who scorned the idea
that a man might not "wallop his own nigger," and were more than half
pleased that the abolition of slavery and its consequences gave them a
sort of reason f