other during the month which I remained in
Durban, for it is a gay town, and almost every day there were parties,
and when there were none we rode out together.

It was during one of these rides on the Berea that I told him what I
knew of the strange history of my grandfather and grandmother, not all
of it indeed, for it was not until the book was dictated to me that I
learned the exact facts, the matter being one of which our family spoke
little. Ralph listened very attentively, and when I had done asked if I
had the ring and locket of which I spoke.

"Here they are," I answered, for since my father's death I had always
made a practice of wearing both of them.

He examined the ring with its worn device and proud motto of "Honour
first," and as he deciphered it I saw him start, but when he came to
look at the miniatures in the locket he turned quite pale.

"Do you know, Suzanne," he said presently, "I believe that we must be
distant cousins; at the least I am sure that I have seen the picture
from which one of these miniatures was originally copied, and the crest
and motto are those of my family."

Now I became very curious, and plied him with questions, but he would
say no more, only he led me on to talk of my grandfather, Ralph Kenzie,
the castaway, and from time to time made a note in his pocket-book. Also
afterwards I showed him the writing in the testament which was found on
the body of the shipwrecked lady, my great-grandmother, and he asked me
for an impression of the ring, and to allow the ivory miniatures and the
writing to be photographed, which I did.

Within three days of that ride we separated for a while, not without
heartache on both our parts and some tears on mine, for I feared that
once he had lost sight of me he would put me from his mind, and as I
loved him truly that thought was sore. But he, speaking very quietly,
said that outside death only one thing should divide us from each other,
namely, my own decree.

"Then, Ralph, we shall be one for ever," I answered, for at the moment I
was too sad for any artifice of maiden coyness.

"You think so now, dear," he said, "but time will show. Supposing that I
were not----" and he stopped, nor would he complete the sentence. Indeed
those words of his tormented me day and night for weeks, for I finished
them in a hundred ways, each more fatal than the last.

Well, I returned to the farm, and immediately afterwards my
great-grandmother took the fanc