he revulsion of feeling that ensued when the
notes had died away. He looked up, and saw Bessie watching him with
an air of curiosity and amusement. Jess was still leaning against the
piano, and gently touching the notes, over which her head was bent low,
showing the coils of curling hair that were twisted round it like a
coronet.

"Well, Captain Niel," said the old man, waving his pipe in her
direction, "and what do you say to my singing-bird's music, eh? Isn't it
enough to draw the heart out of a man, eh, and turn his marrow to water,
eh?"

"I never heard anything quite like it," he answered simply, "and I have
heard most singers. It is beautiful. Certainly, I never expected to hear
such singing in the Transvaal."

Jess turned quickly, and he observed that, though her eyes were alight
with excitement, her face was as impassive as ever.

"There is no need for you to laugh at me, Captain Niel," she said
quickly, and then, with an abrupt "Good-night," she left the room.

The old man smiled, jerked the stem of his pipe over his shoulder after
her, and winked in a way that, no doubt, meant unutterable things, but
which did not convey much to his astonished guest, who sat still and
said nothing. Then Bessie rose and bade him good-night in her pleasant
voice, and with housewifely care inquired as to whether his room was to
his taste, and how many blankets he liked upon his bed, telling him that
if he found the odour of the moonflowers which grew near the verandah
too strong, he had better shut the right-hand window and open that on
the other side of the room. Then at length, with a piquant little nod of
her golden head, she went off, looking, John thought as he watched
her retreating figure, about as healthy, graceful, and generally
satisfactory a young woman as a man could wish to see.

"Take a glass of grog, Captain Niel," said the old man, pushing the
square bottle towards him, "you'll need it after the mauling that brute
gave you. By the way, I haven't thanked you for saving my Bessie! But
I do thank you, yes, that I do. I must tell you that Bessie is my
favourite niece. Never was there such a girl--never. Moves like a
springbuck, and what an eye and form! Work too--she'll do as much work
as three. There's no nonsense about Bessie, none at all. She's not a
fine lady, for all her fine looks."

"The two sisters seem very different," said John.

"Ay, you're right there," answered the old man. "You'd never think
tha