s. van Warmelo had
married a Hollander, a young minister of the Dutch Reformed Church. Of
him it is not necessary to speak in this book.

He had taken his part in the first Anglo-Boer war and had passed away
in Heidelberg, Transvaal, leaving to the people of his adopted
fatherland and to his children a rich inheritance in the memory of a
life spent in doing noble deeds--a life of rare self-sacrifice.

His family had left Heidelberg a few years after his death, and had
taken up their abode in the capital in order to be near Mrs. van
Warmelo's married daughter, Mrs. Cloete, who then lived close to
Harmony, in Sunnyside.

It was a wild, romantic suburb in those days, being still almost
entirely in its natural state. Grass-covered hills, clumps of mimosa,
and other wild trees, with here and there an old homestead
picturesquely situated in isolated spots, were all there was to be
seen.

Of all the private properties in this suburb, Harmony was the most
overgrown and neglected when Mrs. van Warmelo first took possession of
it.

It was bounded at the lower, the western end, by the Aapies River, a
harmless rivulet in its normal state--almost dry, in fact, during the
winter season--but in flood a most dangerous and destructive element,
overflowing its banks and sweeping away every obstruction in its wild
course.

The property was overgrown with rank vegetation and reminded one of
the impenetrable forest abode of the "Sleeping Beauty" of fairy-tale
fame.

Friends wondered that Mrs. van Warmelo had the courage to live alone
with her daughter Hansie in such a wild and desolate spot, and they
wondered still more when they heard of the alarming experience the two
ladies had the very first night they spent in their new home.

On their arrival, there were still workmen busy repairing the house,
and Mrs. van Warmelo pointed out to one of them that the skylight
above the bathroom door had not yet been put in. The man nailed a
piece of canvas over it, with the remark that that would do for the
night, and that he would put in the skylight on his return the next
day. Mrs. van Warmelo was only half satisfied, but left the matter
there.

During the night one of her own servants, a sullen,
treacherous-looking native, recently in her employment, entered the
bathroom by putting a ladder against the door and tearing away the
canvas from the skylight.

He must then have unlocked the door on the inside, striking about a
dozen matche