s.
The next moment she saw Willems, with his back towards her, apparently
struggling under the tree with some one. She saw nothing distinctly,
and, unhesitating, flew down the plankway calling out: "I come!"

He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife backwards
to the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself altogether out of his
jacket, and she covered her face with the soiled rags. He put his lips
close to her, asking--

"For the last time, will you take the child and go?"

She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She mumbled
something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying--

"I won't. Order that woman away. I can't look at her!"

"You fool!"

He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind, spun round
to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly now, with a look of
unbounded amazement on her face. Then she stopped and stared at him--who
stood there, stripped to the waist, bare-headed and sombre.

Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in calm
undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy man who had
died. The white man is very tall. There would be three women and the
child to take in the boat, besides that white man who had the money
. . . . The brother went away back to the boat, and Mahmat remained
looking on. He stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade of his
lance glinting above his head.

Willems spoke suddenly.

"Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards the revolver.

Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low: "Your people?"

He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few delicate
petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big drops of crimson
and white at her feet.

"Did you know?" she whispered.

"No!" said Willems. "They sent for me."

"Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between them and
you--and you who carry my life in your heart!"

Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the ground and
repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away from her, at
once, at once. I can't think of trusting myself with those men without
firearms. I must have it.

She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing gently--

"Who is she?"

"My wife," answered Willems, without looking up. "My wife according to
our white law, which comes from God!"

"Your law! Your God!" murmured Aissa, contemptuously.

"Give me this