ds her, looking at her
curiously.

"It would be worth living to be loved like that," he said, more to
himself than to her.

Jess did not answer, but she let her eyes rest on his. Indeed, she did
more, for she put her soul into them and gazed and gazed till John Niel
felt as though he were mesmerised. And as she gazed there rose up in her
breast a knowledge that if she willed it she could gain this man's heart
and hold it against all the world, for her nature was stronger than his
nature, and her mind, untrained though it be, encompassed his mind and
could pass over it and beat it down as the wind beats down the tossing
seas. All this she learnt in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye: she
could not tell how she knew it, but she did know it as surely as she
knew that the blue sky stretched overhead, and, what is more--for the
moment, at any rate--he knew it too. This strange strong certainty came
on her as a shock and a revelation, like the tidings of some great joy
or grief, and for a moment left her heart empty of all things else.

Jess dropped her eyes suddenly.

"I think," she said quietly, "that we have been talking a great deal of
nonsense, and that I want to finish my sketch."

He rose and left her, for he was wanted at home, saying as he went that
he thought there was a storm coming up; the air was so quiet, and the
wind had fallen as it does before an African tempest. Presently on
looking round she saw him slowly climbing the precipitous ascent to the
table-land above the gulf.

It was one of those glorious afternoons that sometimes come in the
African spring, although it was so intensely still. Everywhere appeared
the proofs of evidences of life. The winter was over, and now, from
the sadness and sterility of its withered age, sprang youth and lovely
summer clad in sunshine, bediamonded with dew, and fragrant with the
breath of flowers. Jess lay back and looked up into the infinite depths
above. How blue they were, and how measureless! She could not see the
angry clouds that lay like visible omens on the horizon. Look, there,
miles above her, was one tiny circling speck. It was a vulture, watching
her from his airy heights and descending a little to see if she were
dead, or only sleeping.

Involuntarily she shuddered. The bird of death reminded her of Death
himself also hanging high up yonder in the blue and waiting his
opportunity to fall upon the sleeper. Then her eyes fell upon a bough of
the glorio