tern began to read.

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"Dear Mr Glanton,--I am taking advantage of the arrangement you so
thoughtfully made, and only trust this will not miss you during your
wanderings. Mother is writing to Falkner at the same time. I hope you
have been able to make him useful, and that he has behaved himself
generally well. He is a good sort of boy at bottom, but gets far too
much spoilt among us all, as you must have observed, though I believe I
am the one who spoils him least. At any rate a little roughing it will
do him no harm.

"Things are very much as usual. We see a good deal of Mr Kendrew, who
comes over when he can and is a great help."--"Oh, the devil he is!"
said I to myself at this point. "Just what I foresaw, confound
it!"--"But we miss you very much, and are hoping soon to welcome you
back after a thoroughly successful expedition."

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This was more comforting, I thought to myself, laying down the letter
and conjuring up a recollection of the writer's words, that last
evening. She would look forward to my return, she had declared--would
be disappointed if I did not go to see them immediately. Confound it,
what was the matter with me, that I sat dreaming and building castles in
the air? The rain fell upon the canvas of the waggon tent with
monotonous drip, and a puff of raw air through the flap of the tied-down
sail caused the light of the hanging lantern to flicker--but I was no
longer in the gloomy wilds of Northern Zululand, on a rainy, chilly, and
altogether abominable evening. I was again in the starlight glow as on
that evening, listening to the sweet tones of the writer's voice, and
gazing at the beautiful, highbred face.

The letter went on, dealing now with everyday matter, in a bright,
natural, chatty style. The Major was in great form and delighted with
his garden and its development, thanks to some fine rains. The Scotts
had been over to see them a couple of times--and here followed some
banter at the expense of that worthy and neighbouring family, the head
of which--originally a waggon-maker's journeyman--was, incidentally,
addicted to too much grog, when he could get it--which wasn't often. At
Major Sewin's he could get it, and became comical, but always harmlessly
so. Things on the farm were going well, thanks to Ivondwe, who was
worth his weight