evening, but John, the dead face of the
woman he had loved still pillowed on his breast, neither dreamed nor
woke. There was a strange and dreadful irony in the situation, an irony
which sometimes finds its counterpart in our waking life, but still the
man slept, and the dead girl lay till the night turned into the morning
and the earth woke up as usual. The sunbeams slid into the cave, and
played indifferently upon the ashen face and tangled curls, and on the
broad chest of the living man whereon they rested. An old baboon peeped
round the rocky edge and manifested no surprise, only indignation, at
the intrusion of humanity, dead or alive, into his dominions. Yes, the
world woke up as usual, and recked not and troubled not because Jess was
dead.

It is so accustomed to such sights.

At last John woke up also. He stretched his arms yawning, and for the
first time became aware of the weight upon his breast. He glanced down
and saw dimly at first--then more clearly.

There are some things into which it is wisest not to pry, and one of
them is the first agony of a strong man's grief.

Happy was it for John that his brain did not give way in that lonely
hour of bottomless despair. But he lived through it, as we do live
through such things, and was sane and sound after it, though it left its
mark upon his life.

Two hours later a gaunt, haggard figure stumbled down the hill-side
towards the site of Mooifontein, bearing something in his arms. The
whole place was in commotion. Here and there were knots of Boers talking
excitedly, who, when they saw the man coming, hurried up to learn who
it was and what he carried. But when they knew, they fell back awed and
without a word, and John too passed through them without a word. For
a moment he hesitated, seeing that the house was burnt down. Then he
turned into the waggon-shed, and laid his burden down on the saw-bench
where Frank Muller had sat as judge upon the previous day.

Now at last John spoke in a hoarse voice: "Where is the old man?"

One of them pointed to the door of the little room.

"Open it!" he said, so fiercely that again they fell back and obeyed him
without a word.

"John! John!" cried Silas Croft, rising amazed from his seat upon a
sack. "Thank God--you have come back to us from the dead!" and trembling
with joy and surprise he would have fallen on his neck.

"Hush!" he answered; "I have brought the dead with me."

And he led him to where Jess