last of his life.
Then, standing over his dead body, I shook my fists and cried:

"Men, see what you have done. May God pay you back all you owe her and
me!"

They dismounted, they came round me, they protested, they even wept. And
I, I raved at them upon the one side, while the mad Henri Marais raved
upon the other; and the Vrouw Prinsloo, waving her big arms, called
down the curse of God and the blood of the innocent upon their heads and
those of their children for ever.

Then I remember no more.

When I came to myself two weeks afterwards, for I had been very ill and
in delirium, I was lying in the house of the Vrouw Prinsloo alone. The
Boers had all gone, east and west and north and south, and the dead
were long buried. They had taken Henri Marais with them, so I was told,
dragging him away in a bullock cart, to which he was tied, for he was
raving mad. Afterwards he became quieter, and, indeed, lived for years,
walking about and asking all whom he met if they could lead him to
Marie. But enough of him--poor man, poor man!

The tale which got about was that Pereira had murdered Marie out of
jealousy, and been shot by her father. But there were so many tragic
histories in those days of war and massacre that this particular one was
soon quite forgotten, especially as those concerned in it for one reason
and another did not talk overmuch of its details. Nor did I talk of it,
since no vengeance could mend my broken heart.

They brought me a letter that had been found on Marie's breast, stained
with her blood.

Here it is:

"MY HUSBAND,

"Thrice have you saved my life, and now it is my turn to save yours, for
there is no other path. It may be that they will kill you afterwards,
but if so, I shall be glad to have died first in order that I may be
ready to greet you in the land beyond.

"I drugged you, Allan, then I cut off my hair and dressed myself in your
clothes. The Vrouw Prinsloo, Hans and I set my garments upon you. They
led you out as though you were fainting, and the guards, seeing me, whom
they thought was you, standing in the doorway, let them pass without
question.

"What may happen I do not know, for I write this after you are gone. I
hope, however, that you will escape and lead some full and happy life,
though I fear that its best moments will always be shadowed by memories
of me. For I know you love me, Allan, and will always love me, as I
shall always love you.

"The light is burning