iged to you, Mr. Muller," answered Bessie, snatching
away her hand, "but--in short, I cannot marry you. No, it is no use, I
cannot indeed. There, please say no more--here comes my uncle. Forget
all about it, Mr. Muller."

Her suitor looked up; there was old Silas Croft sure enough, but he was
some way off, and walking slowly.

"Do you mean it?" he said beneath his breath.

"Yes, yes, of course I mean it. Why do you force me to repeat it?"

"It is that damned _rooibaatje_," he broke out. "You used not to be like
this before. Curse him, the white-livered Englishman! I will be even
with him yet; and I tell you what it is, Bessie: you shall marry me,
whether you like or no. Look here, do you think I am the sort of man
to play with? You go to Wakkerstroom and ask what sort of a man Frank
Muller is. See! I want you--I must have you. I could not live if I
thought that I should never get you for myself. And I tell you I will
do it. I don't care of it costs me my life, and your _rooibaatje's_ too.
I'll do it if I have to stir up a revolt against the Government. There,
I swear it by God or by the Devil, it's all one to me!" And growing
inarticulate with passion, he stood before her clinching and unclinching
his great hand, and his lips trembling.

Bessie was very frightened; but she was a brave woman, and rose to the
emergency.

"If you go on talking like that," she said, "I shall call my uncle. I
tell you that I will not marry you, Frank Muller, and that nothing
shall ever make me marry you. I am very sorry for you, but I have not
encouraged you, and I will never marry you--never!"

He stood for half a minute or so looking at her, and then burst into a
savage laugh.

"I think that some day or other I shall find a way to make you," Muller
said, and turning, he went without another word.

A couple of minutes later Bessie heard the sound of a horse galloping,
and looking up she saw her wooer's powerful form vanishing down the
vista of blue gums. Also she heard somebody crying out as though in pain
at the back of the house, and, more to relieve her mind than for any
other reason, she went to see what it was. By the stable door she found
the Hottentot Jantje, shrieking, cursing and twisting round and round,
his hand pressed to his side, from which the blood was running.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Baas Frank!" he answered--"Baas Frank hit me with his whip!"

"The brute!" said Bessie, the tears starting to her eyes with