®l)e Hibrarp of ®[nil)er£iitp of ^ortt Carolina U! t U! X I U' a \ ij f 4 h- I •:T ! V t * 5 I I -5 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES PRUT31 . jU 1890 >A>- p\ H 9 9 9 9 8 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 11 42 43 44 45 4t 47 4! 43 53 5! 52 53 54 55 55 57 51 55' BOOKS OF QUALITY SELECT LIBRARY Big, Popular Standards Price, Fifteen Cents millillllNIlHIIIIIIIHIIIUIIIIIIIII This line is truly named. It is Select because each title in it has been selected with great care from among hundreds of books by well-known authors. A glance over the following list will show the names of Mary j'. Holmes, Marie Corelli, Rider Haggard, “The Duchess,” R. D. Blackmore, and translations of some of the more famous French authors like Victor Hugo, an'd Alphonse Daudet, If you are looking for books which will add to your knowledge of literature, a complete set of the Select Library which is so reasonably priced will do more for you than a like amount ex¬ pended on ordinary fiction between cloth covers. ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT 1— Cousin Maude .By Mary J. Holme? 2 — Rosamond Le3d;on .By Mary J. Holmes 6 —Beulah ..By Augusta J. Evans 10—The Homestead on the Hillside.By Mary J. Holmes 14—East Lynne .By Mrs. Henry Wood 16—A Romance of Two Worlds.By Marie Corelli If —Cleopatra .By H. Rider Haggard 18—Maggie Miller .By Mary J. Holmes 27— Under Two Flags. By “Ouida” 28— Dora Deane .By Mary J. Holmes 29— ^Ardath. Vol. I.By Marie Corelli 30— Ardath. Vol. II.By Marie Corelli 31— The Light That Failed.By Rudyard Kipling 32— Tempest and Sunshine .By Mary J. Holmes 35—Inez...By Augusta J. Evans SELECT LIBRARY. 36-Phyllis.By “The Duchess” 42— Vendetta .By Marie Corelli 43— Sapho ..By Alphonse Daudet 44— Lena Rivers .By Mary J. Holmes 48—Meadowbrook .By Mary J. Holmes 50— Won by Waiting.By Edna Lyall 51— Camille .By Alexandre Dumas 53— Uncle Tom’s Cabin.By Harriet Beecher Stowe 54— The English Orphans.By Mary J. Holmes 57— Ethelyn’s Mistake....-.By Mary J. Holmes 58— Treasure island.By Robert Louis Stevenson 59— ^Mildred Trevanion.By “The Duchess” 60— Dead Man’s Rock.By “Q.” (A. T. Quiller-Couch) 61— The Iron Pirate.By Max Pemberton 62— -Molly Bawn.By “The Duchess” 63— Lorna Doone.By R. D. Blackmore 66— Airy Fairy Lilian..-By “The Duchess” 67— The Cruise of the “Cachalot”.By Frank T. Bullen 69—The Last Days of Pompeii...- ... .By Sir Bulwer iyLton 71— The Duchess. ..By “The Duchess” 72— Plain Tales From the Hills.By Rudyard Kipling 75— She.. . By H. Rider Haggard 76— Beatrice .By H. Rider Haggard 77— Eric Brighteyes....By H. Rider Haggard 78— Beyond the City.By A. Conan Doyle 79— Rossmoyne ...By “The Duchess” 80— King Solomon’s Mines.By H. Rider Haggard 81— She’s All the World to Me.By Hall Caine 83— Kidnaped.By Robert Louis Stevenson 84— Undercurrents .By “The Duchess” .87—The House on the Marsh.By Florence Warden 88— The Witch’s Head.By H. Rider Haggard 89— A Perilous Secret.By Charles Reade 95—Beauty’s Daughters.By “The Duchess” 100—^Led Astray...By Octave Feuillet 102—Marvel.By “The Duchess” 107— The Visits of Elizabeth.By Elinor Glyn 108— Allan Quatermain.By H. Rider Haggard no—Soldiers Three.By Rudyard Kipling 113— A Living Lie.By Paul Bourget 114— Portia.By “The Duchess” 117— ^John Halifax, Gentleman.By Miss Mulock 118— The Tragedy in the Rue de la Paix.By Adolphe Belot 119— A Princess of Thule.By William Black 122— Doris.By “The Duchess” 123- ^Carmen and Colomba.By Prosper Merimee 125— The Master of Ballantrae.By Robert Louis Stevenson 126— The Toilers of the Sea.By Victor Hugo 127— Mrs. Geoffrey.By “The Duchess” 128— ^jack’s Courtship.By W. Clark Russell ^ _ SELECT LIijRAI^Y. . . 129— 'Love and Shipwreck .By W. Clark Russell 130— Beautiful Jim . By John Strange Winter 131— 'Lady Audley’s Secret . ....By Miss M. E. Braddon 132— The Frozen Pirate . By W. Clark Russell 133— Rory O’Moore. By Samuel Lover 134— Modern Circe. By “The Duchess” 13s—Foul Play.By Charles Reade 137— I Have*Lived and Loved .By Mrs. Forrester 138— Elsie Venner. By Oliver Wendell Holmes 139— ^Hans of Iceland . *..By Victor Hugo 141—Lady Valworth’s Diamonds.By “The Duchess” 143—John Holdsworth, Chief Mate . By W. Clark Russell 145— Jess. By H. Rider Haggard 146— The Honorable Mrs. Vereker .By “The Duchess" 147— The Dead Secret.By Wilkie Collins 148— Ships That Pass in the Night.By Beatrice Harraden 149— The Suicide Club. By Robert Louis Stevenson 150— A Mental Struggle. By “The Duchess” 152— ^Colonel Quaritch, V. C . By H. Rider Haggard 153— The Way of a Siren .By “The Duchess” 155—Faith and Unfaith. By “The Duchess” 158— ^Lady Branksmere. By “The Duchess” 159— A Marriage at Sea.By W. Clark Russell 162—Dick’s Sweetheart .By “The Duchess” 166 —The Phantom Rickshaw. ..By Rudyard Kipling 209— Rose Mather. By Mary J. Holmes 210— At Mather House .By Mary J. Holmes 211— Edith Trevor’s Secret . By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 212— Cecil Rosse. .By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 213— Cecil’s Triumph .By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 214— Guy Earlscourt’s Wife.By May Agnes Fleming 215— The Leighton Homestead.By Mary J. Holmes 216— Georgie’s Secret .By Mary J. Holmes 217— ^Lady Kildare .By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 218— ^Kathleen’s Strange Husband.By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 219— 'Millbank. By Mary J. Holmes 220— Magda’s Choice .By Mary J. Holmes 221— Sundered Hearts .By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 222— Bitter Sweet. By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 223— Edith Lyle’s Secret.By Mary J. Holmes 224 — Edith’s Daughter .By Mary J. Holmes 225— -A Wonderful Woman.By May Agnes Fleming 226— The Mystery of Bracken Hollow..By May Agaes Fleming 227— The Haunted Husband.By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 228— The White Life Endures.By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 229— Darkness and Daylight.By Mar}”- J. Holmes 230— The Unloved Husband.B}'- Mary J. Holmes 231— 'Neva’s Three Loyers .By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 232— Neva’s Choice.By Mrs. Harriet Lewis J WHY? During the year 1923, more Street & Smith novels were sold than in any other single year. [To the outsider who never read one, the natural question occurs—“Why?” Well, we will tell you why. If a fairy wand could suddenly invest all the characters in our paper covered books with life, what a mighty army of them there would be, and how inter¬ esting it would be to watch them go through the adventures as told in the books! We would find the millionaire and the pauper rubbing elbows. We would find the honest man and the thief conversing. We would find the mother and the social butterfly not only giving their views on life, but actually living their lives before our very eyes. Do you not see, then, why the Street & 'Smith novel is popular? Must we tell you? It is simply and solely that our stories depict life as it is, and there is nothing more vitally interesting than life. This catalog just teems with titles of goodie wholesome books. Ask your dealer to show you an assortment. He will be glad to. STREET & SMITH CORPORATION 79 Seventh Avenue New York City JESS A TALE OF SOUTH AFRICA BY H. RIDER HAGGARD AUTHOR OF ^*She,” “Cleopatra,” “King Solomon’s Mines,” “Eric Brighteyes,’^ “Dawn,” “The Witch’s Head,” and other popular ro¬ mances published in S. & S. Edition. (Printed In the United States of America)', STREET & SMITH CORPORATION! PUBLISHERS 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York X^l ■■f: \ V '4 •*-«. t i JOriJT HAS AN ADVEN'i’TJF.Bl j^E da:v liad beeii very hot, oven for the Tr?-’-'iSva;iJ, where, even hi ilie eiiMiiiiii, ilie da^'s stiil know Inniv to he hot. aklionpjh the neck of tlie summer is hrolcen- ihm.r is, ■when 1 be tinindcv storiTis noid off fora week or i.w i, as riv-y occn -a,).ially wiih Even tbesnoculent blue lilies- a '■.•ariety of the a^rariantims which is so faraitiar to us in Euirhsh ^rr-'-n SOI! ■hung iheir lojig ‘Lnuripet-shapod fiOV'cr:- d looko.t uppr<^sv;erl a!id T!iiserai)le, beneath the biumiug in path of ti'no iiut wind vvliich liadi been blowing for hours like the drauchii, of a volcano. The gi-ass, too, near the w:-,:e rc-a J- wa\-. riiat stretched in a feeble and i’vifJterminate surt of fashioii across the veldt, forking, branching, n:!,d rermitiug lilo ;.l!u I’eine o’l a j;uiy's nrsn, xvas comph-'ie:y co'i^ed ove'r wic!) ,a i.hiok layer of red dust. .But the isot I'-'iud w,a3 go; ig (lo'-vii no'^\^ as it always does to'-vard siiiis^^t. Indeed, all i.iififc remuiiied of it wei'e a few .strictly iovtal and mmia- tur ■ vihri winds, whien would .siiddeJil}' spring u|>0!i the road it'n'i.y rt.n.d t'-vi.a ami twirl ;ie!'cel.y round, rai.sing a mighty' cr.i nm of dn.st fifty feet or fuore iiVto tlie air, where it iiurig long after the cau.se of it had pa.ssed. and tkenolovvly di -ojved as .its particles floated to the earth. b/oniiiig along the road, in the liLvmoJ.iato track, c; -y.ii. /Y-)the-c desultory and inexplicable whirlwinds, was a t33an ^cn i!'>rseback. The JXian looked liinp and dirty, u;-.'! liniper and dirtier. Tlie liot v/i.id lii:I taken all ilte /rjbones oat of them, as the Kafirs say, wiiicU 'vms rvf verr o ranch ic be wondered at, seeing tliat ti'icv had been jou? V-i neying through it for the last four b.our.-;, with-out off-sad- . dling. Suddenly the whirlwind, which 'lird been, traveling along xfretty smartly, halted, and th.? ■'-m-'" f-hor tarnuig round a few, times in the air like a d^ i _ ■ ; -mw.ly begaa 'K ^ / r , i JESS. to dissolve in the accustomed fashion. Tne mteii on th® horse halted too, and contemplated it in an absent kind of way. “ It’s just like a man’s life,” he said aloud to his horse, “cominf:: from nobody knows where, nobody knows why, and making a little column of dust on the world’s high¬ way, and then parsing away and leaving the dust to faU to the ground again, and be trodden under foot and forgot¬ ten.” The speaker, a stout, 'well set-up, rather ugly man, ap¬ parently on the wrong side of thirty, with pleasant blue eyes and a reddish peaked beard, laughed a little at his own sententious reflection, and then gave his jaded horse a tap with the .yjambo^ok in hi? hand. “ Come on. Blesbok,” he said, “ or we shall never get to old Croft's place lo night. By Jove! I believe that must be the turn,” and he pointed with his whip to a little rutty track that turned from the Wakkerstrooin main road and stretched away townard a curiou.s, isolated hill with a large flat top, that rose out of the rolling plain some four milee to the right. "The old Boer said the second tuny” ha went on, still talking to himself. ‘‘ but perhaps he lied. I. am told that some of them think it a good joke to send an Englishman a few mile.s wrong. Let’s see; they said tha E lace was under the lee of a table-topped hill, about half an our’s ride from the main road, and that is a table-topped hill, so I tliuik I will try it. Como on, Blesbolc,” and he put the tired nag iiito a sort of "tripple, ” or ambling canter much affected by South African horses. "Life IS a queer thing,’’ reflected Captain John Niel to himself as he slowly cantered along. "Now here am I. at the age of thirty four, about to begin the world again as assistant to an old Transvaal farmer. It is a pretty end to all one’s ambitions, and to fourteen years’ work in the army: but it is what it has come to, my boy, so you had better make the best of it ” Just then his cogitations were interrupted, foi on the further side of a gentle slope there suddenly appeared an extraordinary sight. Over the crest of the rise cf land, now some four or five hundred yards away, a pony with a lady on its back came wildly galloping, and after it, with wings spread and outstretched neck, a huge cock ostrich was speeding along, covering twelve or fifteen feet at every stride of its long legs. The pony was still twenty yards aliead of the bird, and coming toward John rapidly, but strive as it wmuld it could not distance the swiftest thing on all the earth. Five seconds past—the great bird was close alongside now—ah! and John Niel turned sick and his _ for be saw the c»tr’cV>’^ fhick leg JESS, 5 fly high in the air and then sweep down like a leaded bind- p'eoTi! Thud! It had missed the lady and struck the horse (ipon tlio spine, behind the saddle, for the moment com¬ pletely paralyzing it, so that it fell all of a heap on to the veldt. In a moment the girl on its back was up and off to¬ ward him, and after her came the ostrich. Up v.-ent the great log again, but before it came crashing on her shoul¬ ders she had flung herself face downward on the g!’ass. In an instant the huge bird was on the top of her, kicking at her. rolling over her, and crushing the '/ery life out or her. It was at this juncture that John Niel arrived upon the scene. The moment the ostrich saw him he gave up his attacks bpon the lad,y oii the ground and began to waltz toward him with a pompous sort of step that these birds sometimes assume before they give battle. Now Captain Neil was un¬ accustomed to the ways of the ostriches, and so was his horse, which showed a strong inclination to bolt; as, in¬ deed, under other circumstances, his rider would have been glad to do himself. But he could not abandon beauty in distress, so, finding it impossible to coniirol his horse, he slipped off it, and, with his sjambock or hide-whip in his hand, valiantly faced the enemy. For a moment or two the great bird stood still, blinking its lustrous round eyes at him and gently swaying its graceful neck to and fro. Then, all of a sudden, it spread out its wings and came for him like a thunderbolt. He sprung to one side, and was aware of a rustle of rushing feathers, and of a vision of a thick leg striking dov.uiward past his head. Fortunately it missed him, and the ostrich sped past like a flash. Be¬ fore he could turn, however, it was back and had landed the full weight of one of its aXvful forward kicks in the broad of his back, and away l^e went head-over-heels like a shot rabbit. In a second he was on his legs again, shaken itideed. but not much the worse, and perfectly mad with fury and pain. At him came the ostrich, and at the os¬ trich went he, catching it a blow across the slim neck with his sjambock, that staggered it for a moment. Profiting by the check, he seized the bird by the wing and held on like grim death with both hands. Their they began to gyrate, slowly at first, then quicker, and yet more quick, till at last it .seemed to Captain John Niel that time and ..mace and the solid earth were nothing but a revolving Viion fi;e what is the matter.” By this time the lady in quesiion was qviite close, so that John was able to get a first impression of her. She was small and rather thin, with quantities of curling brown hair; not by any means a lovely wonuin, as her sister un¬ doubtedly Avas, but possessing tAvo Amiy remarkable char¬ acteristics—a complexion of extraordinary and uniform pallor, and a pair of the most beautiful dark eyes he had ever looked on. Altogether, though her size Avas almost insignificant, she AAuas a striking looking person, with a face one Avas not likely to foi’get. Before he had time to ob- eerre any more they were up to thiun. “ What on earth is the matter, Bessie?” she said, Avith a quick glance at her companion, and speaking in a low full voice, Avith just a slight South African accent, that is tak¬ ing enough in a pretty woman. Whereon Bessie broke out with a history of their adventure, appealing to her com¬ panion for confirmation at intervals. Meanwhile her sister Jess stood quite still and silent, and it struck Captain Niel that her face was the most singu¬ larly impressive one he had eA^er seen. It neA^er changed, even Avhen her sister told ho'v the ostrich rolled on her and nearly killed her, or Iioav they finally subdued the foe. “ Dear me,” he thought to himself, “ Avhat a very remark¬ able Avoman! She can’t have much heart.” But just as he thought it the girl looked up, and then he saw Avhere the expression lay. It Avas in those remarkable eyes. Im¬ passive as her face Avas, the dark eyes Avere alight Avith life and a sort of excitement that made them shine glo¬ riously. The contrast between the shining eyes and the im¬ passive face beneath them struck him as so extraordinary as to be almost uncanny: and, as a matter of fact, it was doubtless both unusual and remarkable. “ You have had a wonderful escape, but I am sorry for the bird,” she said at last. Why?” asked John. Because we were great friends. I Avas the only person w.no could manage him.” “Yes,” put in Be.ssie, “the saA’age brute Avould fohow her about like a dog. It Avas just the oddest thing I ever saw. But come on; we must begetting home, it’s grow¬ ing dark. Mouti ” (medicine)— addi’essing the Kafir in Zulu — " lielp Captain Niel on to his horse. Be careful that the saddle does not twist round; the girths may be loose.” Thus adjured, John, Avith the help of the Zulu, clambered i'L>to his saddle, an example that the lady quickly folloAved, 10 JESS. and they on.ie more set off through the gathering darkness?. Presently he became aware that they were passing up a drive bordered by tali blue-gums, and next minute the barking of a large dog and the sudden appearance of lighted windows told him that they had reached the house. At the door—or ratlier, opposite to it, for there was a veranda iu front—they stopped and got off their horses. As they did so, out of the house there came a shout of wel¬ come, and presently in tlu^ doorway, showing out clear against the light, appeared a striking and, in its way, most pleasant hgure. He—for it was a man—wms very tall, or, rather, ho had been very tall. Now he was much beut witli age and rheumatism. Hig long white hair hung ^o^v upon his neck, and fell back from a prominent brow. The top of the iiead w'as quite bald, like the tonsure of a priest, and shone and glisteiied in the lamplight, and round this oasis the thin white locks foU down. The face was sliriveled like the snrface of a well-kept apple, and, like an apple, rosy red The features were aquiline and well marked, the eyebrows still black and very bushy, and beneath them shone a pair of giay eyes, as keen and bright as hawks’. But for all its sharp¬ ness, there was nothing unpleasant or fierce about the face. On the contrary, it was pervaded by a reinai'kable air of good-nature and pleasant shrewdness. For the rest, the man was dressed in rough tweed clothes, tall riding-boots, and held a broad-brimmed Boer hunting-hat in his hamd. Such v/as the outer man of old Silas Croft, one of the most remarkable men in the Transvaal, as John Niel first saw him. “ Is that you. Captain Niel?” roared out the stentorian voice. ” The natives said you were coming. A welcome to you! I am glad to see you—very glad. Wh^^ what is the matter with you?” he went on as the Zulu JVIouti ran’ to help him off his horse. “Matter, Mr. Croft?” answered John; “why, tlie mat- tt:r is that yonr favorite ostrich has nearly killed me and your niece here, and that I have killed your favonic os¬ trich.” Then followed explanations from Bessie, during which he was helped off his horse and into the house. “ it serves me right,” said the oil man. “ To think of it now. just to think of it! Well, Bessie, my love, thank God that you escaped—ay, and you too. Captain Niel. Hers, you boys, take the Scotch cart and a couple of oxen and go and fetch the brute home. We' may as well liave the feathers off him, at any rate, before the assvogcls (vul¬ tures) tear him to bits.” After he had washed himself and tended his injuries JESS. n tnth arnica arui vrator, John managed to get the prin.' cipal sitting- mom, where supper was waiting. It w as a very pleasant room, furnished in European style, and carpeted V/ith nuxts made of springbuck skins. In the corner v as a piano, and by it a book-case, filled with the works of stan¬ dard authors, the property, as John rightly gnessed, of Bessie'c sister Jess. Supper went off ifieasautly enough, and after it was over the two girls sang and played whilst The men smoked.' And here a fresh surprise awaited him, for after Bessie, who havi now apparently almost recovered from her maul¬ ing. had played a piece or two creditably enough, Jess, who so far had been nearly sileiit, sat down to the piano. She did not do this willingly, indeed, for it was not until her patriarchal uncle had insisted in his ringing, cheery voice that .she should let Captain Kiel hear hov/ she could eing iliat she consented. But at ktst slie did consent, and then, after letting her fingers stray somewuat aimlessly along the chords, she suddenly broke out into such song aa John Niel Ifhd never heai’d before. Her voice, beautiful as it was, was nor what is known as a cultivated voice, and it was a German song, and therefore he did not understand it. but there was no need of words to translate its burden. I'assiori, despairing, yet hoping through its despair, echoed ill its every line, and lov'e, unending love, hovered over the glorious notes—nay, descended on them like a spirit, and made them his. Up! up! rang lier wild, luvoet voice, thrill¬ ing his nerves till they answered to llio music as au HColian harp answers to the winds. On v.'ent tlie song with a divine svreep, like the sweep of rushing piniems; higher, yet higher it soared, liftingup : tie listener's iieart far above the world on the trembling wings of sound -ay. even liiglier. till tlie music hung at heaven’s gate, and then it fell, swiftly as an eagle falls, quiver<-d, and vva:i d-cad. John ga„ve gasp, and, so strongty was in? moved, .sunk baek in his chair, feeling almost faint with the levulsion €1 fiieling that ensued when the notes h.ad died away. _ He looked up, and caught Bes.'^io watching him wilh an air of curiosity and ainusenient. Jess was si ill leaning against the ]uano, and gently toucliing the notes, over wliich her head was bent low. siiowhig the coils of cui'lnig hair which were twisted round it like a coronet. “’Well. Captain Niel," said the old man, waving his pipe in her direction, “and v hat do you say to my singing- bird’s music, eh? Isn’t it. enough to draw the heart out of a man, eh, and turn his marrow to water, eh?’’ “I never heard anylliing quite like it, ' he answered simply, “and I have heard most singei’s. It is beautiful* JESS. Certainly, i never expected to hear sucli singing in Transvaal. ’ ’ She turned quickly, and he observed that, though he? eyes were alight with exciiement, her face was as iinpa;’ «ive as ever. “ There is no need for you to laugh at uie. Captain Nisi, ■ she said quickly, and tlien, with an abrupt “ Good night, ’ left the room. The old man smiled, jerked the stem of his pipe over hi^ shoulder after her, and wiiiked in a way that, no doubt, meant umitterable things, but which did not convey mncn to his astonished guest, who sat still and said nothing. Then Bessie got up and bacV* him good-night iii her pleas¬ ant voice, and with housewifely care inquired as to whether his room was to his liking, and how many blank¬ ets he liked upon his bed, telling him that if he found the odor of the moonfiovv'ers that grew near the veranda too strong, he had better shut the right hand window and open that on the other side of the loom; and then at length, with a piquant little nod of her golden head,^she went off, looking, he thought as he watched her retreating figure, about as healthy, graceful, and generally satisfactor}* a young woman as a man could wish to see. “Take a glass of grog, Captain Niel,” said the old man, pushing the square bottle toward him, “you'll need after the mauling that brute gave you. By the way, I haven’t thanked you enough for saving my Bessie! But f do thank you, yea, that I do. I must tell you that Bess’^ is mv favorite niece. Never was there such a girl—neve . Mo ves like a springbuck, and what an eye and form! Work, too—she’ll do as much work as three. There’s n3 nonsense about Bessie, none at all. She’s not a fine lady, for all her fine looks.’’ “ The two sisters seem very different,” said John. “Ay, you’re right there,” said the old man. “You’i never think that the same blood ran in their veins, would you? There’s three years between them, that’s one thing. Bessie’s the youngest, you see—she’s just twenty, and Jess is twenty-three. Lord, to think that it is tw-enty-three years since that girl was born! And theirs was a queer story too.” “Indeed?” said ins listener, interrogatively. “ Ay,” he went on absently, knocking out nis pipe, and refilling it out of a big brown jar of coarso-cut Boe-. tobacco, “I'll tell it to you if you like; you are going tG live in the house, and you may as well knew it. I aiT?; sure. Captain Niel, that it wall go no further. You see 1 was born in England, yes, and well born too, I come from Cambiddgeshire—from the fat fen-land down round JESS. la Ely. My father was a clergyman. 'Well, he wasn’t rich, and when I was twenty he gave me liis l)les.sing, thirty sovereigns in my pocket, aiai my pas.^agc to tlu? Cape: and I shook his hand, God bless liini. and u!l I canio. and hero in the old colon 5 ^ and this country I lai'-'' Ix'cmi for fifty years, for I was seventy yestordny. Well. I’ll tell you more about that another time, it’s chout the girls I'm speaking now. After I left home-t vanity yc-nrs after, or hard on it—my dear old father marri('d again, a youngish woman with some money, but beneath him somewhat in life, and by her he had one son and then di('d. "Well, it was but little I heard of ray half-brothcj-. except tlani. he had turned out very badly, married, and taken to drink, till one night some twelve years ago. when a si range t hing happened. I was sitting here in this very room. :\y, in this very chair—for this part of the house was up iheu, though the wings weren’t built—and smoking my pitie, and listening to the lashing of the rain, for it was a very foul night, when suddenly an old pointer dog 1 had, named Een, gave a bark. “ ‘ Lie down, Ben, it’s only the Kafirs,” said I. ‘•Just then I thought I heard a faint sort of rapping at the door, and Ben barked again, so I got up and opemMl it, and in came two little girls wrapped up in old sli.awL or some such gear. Weil, I shut the door, looking out first to see if there were any more outside, and then I st-od and stared at the two little things wdth my mouth open. There thej'" stood, hand in hand, the water dripping from both of them, and the eldest might have been eleven, and the second about eight. They didn’t sav anytlung, but the eldest turned and took the shawl and hat off the younger—that was Bessie—and there w^as her sweet little face and her golden hair, and dainp enough both of them were, and she put her thumb iii her month, and stood aiid looked at me till I began to think that I was dreaming. •■‘Please, sir,’ said the biggest, at last, •is tnis IMr. Croft’s house—Mr. Croft—South African Republic ?' ‘‘‘Yes, little nitss, this is his house, and this is tlio South African Republic, and I am he. And now wiio might you be, my dears?’ I a;iswercd. “ •If you please, sir, we are ycur nieces, and wo have coiue to you from England.’ ‘ • Vv^'liat!’ I holloaed, startled out of my wits, as well I might be. '• ‘Oh, sir,’ says the poor little thing, clasphig her th.iu, wet liands, ‘please doiiu send us away. Be.ssi(‘ is so wet, and cold and huiigr}' too, she isn’t fit to go any furti»»r.’ ‘* And she set to work to cry, whereon the little one cried too, from fright and cold and sympathy. 14 JESS. “ Well, of course, I took tliem both to Ike ore, nod set them on my knees, and holloaed for Hebe, the old Hoiten- tot woman wlio did my cooking, and between us we un¬ dressed thcnn. and wrapped them up in some old clothes, and fed them wii.h soup and wine, so that in half an hour they were quite happy and not a bit frightened. “ ' And now, young ladies,’ I said, ‘ come and give me a kiss, both-of yon, atul tell mo bow you came here.' “ And this is the tale they told mo—completed, of course, from wliat I learnt afterward—and an odd one it is. It seems tinat my half-brother married a Norfolk lady—a sweet young tinng—and treated her like a dog. He was a drunken rascal, was my half-brother, and he beat his poor wife and shamefully neglected her, and even ill-treated the hvo lirtle girls, till at last the poor woman, weak as she was from suffering and ill-health, could bear it uo longer, amd formed tiie wild idea of escaping to this country and throwing herself iTpon my protection. It will show how desperate she must have been. She scraped together and borrowed some money, enough to pay for three second-class passages to Natal and a few pounds over, and one day, when her brute of a husband was away on the drink and gamble, she slipped oji board a sailing ship in the London Docks, ai’.d before lie knew anything about it they were well cut to sea. But it was her last effort, poor, dear soul, and the excitement of it finished her. Before they had been ten days at sea, she sank and died, and the two poor chiiiireu wei’e left alone. And what they must have suf¬ fered. or rather what poor Jess must have salTered, for she was old enough to feel, God only knows. ‘‘ But I can tell you tins, she has never got over the shock to this hour. It has left its mark on her, sir. But, let people say what they will, there is a Power that looks after the helpless, and that Powortook those poor, homeless, Yve.ndering cliildreu under its wing. The captain of the ves¬ sel befriended them, iuid whoa at last they got to Durban some of the passengers made a subscription, and got an old Boer, who was coming up this ivay with his wife to the Transx'aal, to take them under his charge. The Boer and his vroinv ir-rated the children fairly wadi, but they did not do one thine; more than they bargained for. At the turn froiu the Wkikkerstroorn road, that you came along to-day, they put the children down, for they had uo luggage with them, and told them that if they went along "there they would come to Meiuhoer Croft’s house. Tb.at vras in the middle of the afternoon, and they were till eigiiO o'clock getting here, poor little dears, for the track ''-as f-'hitef then than it i-; i,o\v, mnl tin y Avnnden d off into and would lia\ e perished there iu the wet and cei..' l.ad JESS. 15 chov chanced to see tlio lights of the hunse. And that Wiis „o-.v my nieces came here, Captain Kiel. And iiere they have been ever since, except ior a couple of jccics wheii J sent them to the Cape for scliooling,, and a lonely man I was when they were away.” “And how about the father?” asked John NIgI, deeply interested. “Did you ever hear any more of him?” “ Hear of him., the villain !” almost shouted the old man.,, jumping up in wrath. “Ay, d— uhim, I heard of him. What do you think? The two chicks had been with me some eighteen months, long enough for mo to learn to love them with ah my heart, when one fine morning, as' I was seeing about tlie new kraal wall. I see a fellow come riding lip on an old raw-boned gray horse. Up he coinos to me, and as he came I looked at liirn, and said to myself; ‘ You are a drunkard, you are, and a rogue, it's written on your facet, and, what’s more, I know your face.’ You see I did not guess that it was a sou of my own father's that I waa looking at. Hovr should I? “ ‘ Is your name Croft?’ he said. “ ‘ Aj,' I answered. “ ‘ So is mine, ’ he went on wdth a sort of drunken leer *I’m your brother.’ “ ‘ Are you?’ I said, beginning to get my back up, for 1 guessed what his game was, * and wdiat may yon be after? I tell you at once, and to your face, that if you are my brother jmu are a blackguard, and I don’t want to know you or have anything to do with you ; and if you are not, I beg your pardon for coupling you wifi_ such a scoundrel.’ “‘Oh, that’s your time, is it?’ he said, with a sneer. ‘Well now, my dear brother Silas, I Avant my children. They have got a little half-brother at home—for I haA O married again, Silas— avIio is a.nxious to have them to play with, SO if you will be so good as to hand them over, I’ll take them away at once.’ ■■ ‘Y’’ou'lt take them away, will you?’ said I, all of a tremble with rage and fear. “ ■ Y"es, Silas, I will. They are mine by law, and I ani not going to breed children for you to have the comfort of their society. lAe taken advice, Silas, and that’s sound latv, ' and he leered at me again. “I stood and looked at t’nat man, and thought of how ho had treated those poor children and their young mother, and my blood boiled, and I grew mad. Without another word. I jumped over the lialf-finished wall, and caught him by^ the leg (for I was a strong man ten years ago) and rked him off the horse. As he came down he dropped .e siambock from his hand, and I caught hold of it, and. 16 JESS. then and there gave him the soundest hiding a man e^er had. Lord, how ho did holloa! When I was tired I let him get lip. •• ‘ Now.’ I said. ‘ be ofi with vou; and if you come back here, .Ill bid the Kafirs hunt von bac.k ‘o Natal with tJieir sticks. This is the Soutli African Republic, and we don't, ^are overmuch about law here.' AV.bicu we didn’t iiituoso davs. “ ‘ All right, t^ilas,’ ho said, ‘ all right; you shall pay for> this. I'll have those children, and, for your sake,_I’Il make tlieir life a hell—you mark my words—South African Republic or no South African Republic. I’ve got the law on mv ‘?ide.’ “Off ho rode, cursing and swearing, and I flung his sjandiock after him. And it was the first and last time that I saw my brother,” “ What became of him?’’ asked John Niel. “riltell vou. just to show yon again that there is a Power that keeps such men in its eye. He got back to Newcastle that night, and went about the canteen thera abiieiug ra 3 . and getting drunker and drunker, till at last the cameen keeper sent for his boys to turn him out. Well, the hoys were rough, as Kafirs are apt to be with a drunken w liite man, and he struggled and fought, and in the middle of it the blood began to run from his mouth, ainl he dropped down dead of a broken blood-vessel, and ther.' was an end of him. That is the story of the two girls. Captain Niel, and now I am off to bed. To-morrov/ I’ll show you round the farm, and we will have a talk aboMf bu.siness. Good-night to you. Captain Niel. Good- nigh:.!'’ CHAPTER III. MR. PRANK MULLER. John Niel woke early the next morning, feeling as sore an'Ou how wo came here first when 1 was eiglit years oid. Well, I remember that when we lost our way on the veldt tliat night, and it rained so and was so cold. Jess took off her own shawl and wrapped it round me over my own. Well, it has been just like that with her-alumy I am always to have the shawl—everything is to '■ w JESS, there, that is Jess all over; she is very cold, cold as a stone, I sometimes think, but when she does care for anybody li is enoiigh to fi’ighten one. I don’t know a great number of women, but somehow I don’t think there can be many in the wundd like Jess. She is too good for this wild place, she ought to go away to England and write books and be' come a faiiious woman, only,” she added, reflectively, ‘‘I am afraid tliat Jess’ books would all be sad ones.” Just then Bessie stopped and suddenly changed color, the bunch of lank, wet feathers she held in her hand dropphig from it with a little splash back into the bath. Following her glance, John looked down the avenue of blue-gum ti-ees and perceived a big man with a broad hat and mounted on a splendid black horse, cantering leisurely toward the house. ” Who is that. Miss Croft?” he asked. ” It is a man I don’t like.” she said, with a little stamp of her foot. ” His name is Frank Muller, and he is half a Boer and half an Englishman. He is very rich, and very clever, and owns all the land round this place, so uncle has to be civil to him, though he does not like him either. I ■wonder what he wants now.” On came the l\orse, and John thought that its rider vcas going to pass without seeing them, when suddenly the movement of Bessie’s dress between the “naatche” trees caught his eye, and he pulled up and looked round. He was a large and exceedingly handsome man, apparently about forty years old, with clear-cut features, cold, light- blue ej’^cs, and a remarkable golden beard that hung right down ov,^r his chest. For a Boer he was rather smartly dressed, in English made tweed clothes, and tall riding- boots. ” Ah. Miss Bessie,” he called out in English, ‘‘there you are, with your pretty arms all bare. I’m in luck to come just in time to see them. Shall I come and help you to wash the feathers? Only say the word, now-” Just then he caught sight of John Niel and checked him¬ self. “I have come to look for a black ox, branded with a heart and a " W ” inside of the heart. Do you know if your uncle has seen it on the place anywhere?” ”No, Meinheer Muller,” replied Bessie, coldly, ‘‘but he is down there.” pointiiig at a kraal on the plain some half- ,mile away, “if you want to go and ask about it.” "Mr. Muller.” said he, by way of correction, and with a curious contraction of the brow. “ ‘ Meinheer ’ is all very well for the Boers, but we are all Englishmen now. Well, the ox can wait. With your permission, I’ll stop here till Croft [Uncle Croft] comes back,” and, without JESS. 21 «n(?r ado, he jumped off his horse and, slipping the reins over its head as an indication to it to stand still, advanced toward Bessie with outstretched hands. As he did so the young lady plunged both her arms up to the elbow in the bath, and it struck John, who wa,s observing the whole scene, that she did this in order to avoid the necessity of shaking hands with her stalwart visitor. ‘‘Sorry my hands are wet,” she said, giving him a cold little nod. ‘‘Let me introduce you, Mr.” (with emphasis) “ Frank Muller—Captain Niel—who has come to help my uncle with the place.” John stretched out his hand and Muller shook it. “Captain,” he said, interrogatively—“a ship captain, I suppose?” “ No,” said John, “ a captain of the English army.” “Oh, a ‘ rooibaatje ’ (red jacket). Well, I don’t wonder at your taking to farming after the Zulu war.” “I don’t quite understand you,” said John, rather coldly. “ Oh, no offense, captain, no offense. I only meant that you rooibaatjes did not come very well out of the war. I was there with Piet Uys, and it was a sight, I can tell you. A Zulu had only to show himself at night and one would gee yotir regiments ‘ skreck ’ (stampede) like a span of oxen when they wind a lion. And then they’d fire—ah, they did fire—anyhow, anywhere, but mostly at the clouds, there was no stopping them; and so, you see, I thought that you would like to turn your sword into a plowshare, as the Bible says—but no offense, I’m sine—no offense.” All this while John Niel, being English to his backbone, and cherishing the reputation of his profession almost as dearly as his own honor, was boiling with inward wrath, which Avas all the fiei’cer because he knew that there ivas some truth in the Boer's insults. He had the sense, how¬ ever, to keep his temper—outwardly, at any rate. “I was not in the Zulu war, Mr. Muller.” he said, and just then old Silas Croft came riding up, and the conversa¬ tion dropped. Mr. Frank Muller stopped to dinner and far on into the afternoon. His lost ox seemed to have entirely slipped his memory. There he sat close to the fair Bessie, .smoking and drinking gin-and water, and talking with great volu¬ bility in English sprinkled with Boer-Dutch terms that John Niel did not understand, and ga/Jng at the young lady in a manner which John somehoiv found unpleasant. Of course it was no affair of his, and he had no interest in the matter, but for all that he found the remarkable-look¬ ing Biachn.-a’: exceedingly disagreeable. At last, indeed, be could it no longer, and hobbled out for a, littl© S2 JESS. walk with Jess, who, in her abrupt way, offered to show him the garden. “You don’t like that man?” she said to him, as they elowly went down the slope in tront of the house. “ No: do you?’’ “I think,” replied Jess, slowly and with much empliasis, “ that he is the most odious man that I ever saw and the most curious;” aiid then she relapsed into silence, only broken now and again by an occasional remark about the flowers and trees. Half an hour afterward, when they arrived again at the top of the slope, Mr. Muller was just riding off down the avenue of blue-gums. By the veranda stood a Hottentot named Jantje, who ha4 been holding the Dutchman’s horse. He was a curious, wizened up little fellow, dressed in rags, and with hair like the worn tags of a black woolen carpet. His age might have been anything betw'een twenty-five and sixty; it was in^possible to form any opinion on the point. Just now, however, his yellow monkey face was coavuised wdth an expression of intense malignity, and he was standing there in the sunshii'.e curs¬ ing rapidly and beneath his breath in Dutch, and shakhig his fist after the form of the retreating Boer--a very epitome of impoteirt, overmastering passion. “ What is he doing?’ asked John. Jess laughed. “Jantje does not like Frank Muller any more than I do, but I don't know why. hie wdll never tell me.” CHAPTER IV. BESSIE IS ASKED IN MARRIAGE. In due course John Niel got over his sprained ankle ajid the other injuries inflicted on him by the infuriated cock ostrich (it is, by the way, a humiliating thing to be knocked out of time by a feathered fowl), aiid set to Avork to learn the routine of farm life. He did not find this a dis¬ agreeable task, especially Avhon he had so fair an instruct¬ ress as Bessie, v/ho knew all about it, to show him the way in which he should go. Nal.urully of an energetic and hard-working temperament, he very soon got more or leas into the sw ing of the thing, and at the end of six weeks began to talk quite learnedly of cattle and ostriches and sweet and sour veldt. About once a w’eelc or so Bessie used to put him through a regular examination as to his prog¬ ress; also she gave liirn ie;-:.sons iu Dutch and Ziulu, both of which tongues she spo'Kc to perfection; so it w’-ffl be seen that he did not lack for pleaeniji and profitable employ- Oient. Another thing was that he grew muc'e ttacjiedt® JESS. §3 old Silas Croft. The old gentleman, with his nandsome, honest face, his large and varied stock of experience, and his sturdy English character, made a great impression on his mind. He had never met a man quite like him before. Kor was the liking unreciprocated, for his host took a wonderful fancy to John Niel. “ You see, ray dear, ” he explained to his niece Bessie, “he’s quiet, and he doesn’t know much about farming, but he’s willing to leam, and he’s such a gentleman. Now, where one has Kafirs to deal with, as on a place like this, you must have a gentleman. Your mean white will never get anything out of a Kafir; tliat’s why the Boers kill them and flog them, because they can’t get anything out of them without. But you see Captain Niel gets on well enough with them. I think he’ll do, my dear, I think he’ll do,” and Bessie quite agreed with him. And so it came to pass that after this six weeks’ trial the bargain was finally struck, and John paid over his thousand pounds and took a third interest in Mooifontein. Now, it is not possible, in a general way, for a youngish man like John Niel to live in the same house wfith a young and lovely woman like'Bessie Croft without running more or less lisk of entanglement. More especially is this so v/here the two people have little or no outside society or distraction to divert the attention from each other. Not that there was as* yet, at any rate, the slightest hint of af¬ fection between them. Only they liked one another very much, and found it ifieasant to be a good deal together. In s!iort. thej'’ were walking along that easy, winding road that leads to the mountain paths of love. It is a very broad road, like another road that runs elsewhere, and, iiiso like this last, it has a w-ide gate. Sometimes, too, it .leads t o destruction. But for all that it is a most agreeable one to follow hand-in-hand, vunding as it does through the pleasant meadows of companionship. The view is rather limited, it is true, and homelike—full of familiar thiu^. Tiiere stand the kine, knee-deep in the grass: there runs the water; and there grows the corn. Also, one can stop if one likes. By and by it grov.-s different. By and by, when (he travelers tread (lie Inughts of passion, precipices will y.awn and torrents rush, lightsiiiigs will fall and storms will bliml; aud who crni kn.ow t!i,at tliey will attain at last to ilint fnr-Oif peak, crowned with the glory of a ]>erfect peac'e which men call happitie.s.s? 'j’liero are those wdio say ii never can be reached, and that the halo wlnmh rasts upon its slopes ii no eartlily light, but mlh 'r as v w -re, a promise a.n.d a beacon—a glow reflected wiionce we knew laor, .mnl lying o-!i this alien earth as the sun'-- li du lies on the derui bosom (jf the moon. Some say, ana,:n iiigt they 34 JESS. have climbed its topmost pinnacle and tasted of the fresh breath of heaven that sweeps around its heights—ay, and heard the quiring of immortal harps and the swan-like sigh of angels’ wings; and then, behold! a mist has fallen upon ihein, and they ha'^'e wandered in it, and when it cleared they were on the mountain paths again, and the peak was far away. And a few there are who tell us that they live there always, listening to the voice of God; but these are old and woni with journeying—men and women who have outlived passions and ambitions and the fire heats of love, and wdio now. girt about wuth memories, stand face to face with the sphinx Eternity. But John Niel was no chicken, nor very likely to fall in love with the first pretty face he met. He had once, years ago, gone through that melancholy stage, and there, he thought, was an end of it. Another thing was that if Bessie attracted him, so did Jess in a different way. Be¬ fore he had been a week in the house he had come to the conclusion that Jess was the strangest woman he had ever met, and in her own way one of the most attractive. Her very impassiveness addt^ to her charm; for who is there in this world who does not like to learn a secret? To him Jess was a riddle of which he did not know the key. That jhe -was clever and well-informed he soon discovered from her rare remarks; that she could sing like an angel he also knew ; but what was the main-spring of her mind—round what axis did it revolve—that \vas what puzzled him. Clearly enough it wms not like most women’s, least of all like happy, healthy, plain-sailing Bessie. So curious did he become to fathom these mysteries that he took every op¬ portunity' to associate with her, and would even, when he had time, go out with her on her sketching, or rather flower-painting, expeditions. On these occasions she would sometimes begin to talk, but it was always about books, or England, or some intellectual question. She never spoke of herself. Yet it soon became evident to John that she liked his sooietyg and missed him when he did not come. It never occurred to him what a boon it was to o. girl of consider¬ able intellectual attainments, and still greater intellectual capacities and aspirarions, to be thrown for the first time into the society of a cultivated and intelligent gentleman. John Niel was no empty-headed, one-sided individual. He had both read and thought, and even written a little, and in him Jess found a mind which, though of an inferior stamp, was more or less kindred to heroAvn. Although he did not undei-stand her she understood him, and at last, had he but known it, there rose a far-off dawning light upon the twilight of her mind that thrilled and changed it aa JESS. 25 the fimt faint rays of morning thrill and change the darkness of the night. What if she should learn to love this man, and teach him to love her? To most women such a thought involves more or less the idea of marriage, and that change of status which the}' generally consider so desirable. But Jess did not think much of that; what she did think of was the blessed possibility of being able to lay down her life, as it wei'e, in the life of another—of finding at last somebody who understood her and whom she could understand, who would cut the down shackles that bound the wings of her genius, so that she could rise and bear him with her as, in Bulwer Lytton’s beautiful story, Zoe would have borne her lover. Here at last was a man who understood, who was some¬ thing more than an animal, and v/ho possessed thegod-like gift of brains, the gift that had been more of a curse than a b’essing to her, lifting her above the level of her sex and shutting her off as by iron doors from the understanding of those around her.' Ah! if only this perfect love of which she had read so much would come to him and her, life might perhaps grow worth the living. It is a curious thing, but in such matters most men never learn wLsdom from experience. A man of John Niel's age might have guessed that it is dangerous work play¬ ing with explosives, and that the quietest, most harmless- looking substances are sometimes the most explosive. He might have known that to set to work to cidtivate the so¬ ciety of a woman with such tell tale eyes as Jess’ was to run the risk of catching the fire from them himself, to say nothitig of setting hf'r alight; he might have known that to bring all the Aveiglit of his cultivated mind to bear on her mind, to take tin; deepest interest in her studies, to implore her to let him see the poetry Bessie told him she wi’ote, but wiiich she would show to no living soul, and to evince the most evident delight in her singing, were one and all dangerous things to do; and yet he did them and thought no harm. As for Bessie, she was delighted that her sister should have found anybody whom she cared to talk to or who co\dd understand her. It iie\ er occurred to her that Jess iniglit fall in love. Jess was tl;e last person in the world to fall in love. Noi’ di.d slic (xileulaLO what the rcviults might be ti> John. As yet, at any rale, slie laid Jio inter¬ est in Captain Biel—of course not. And so things went on pleasantl}' enougli to all con- ceriied in this drama till one fine day when the storm- clouds began to gather. .John had been about the farm as usual till dinner-time, after which he took his gun and told Jantje to se.ddlo up his shooting pony. He was standing on the veranda, waiting for the poiiv to appear, and by him ?.5 JESS. was Bessie, lookinp: particularly attractive in a wliite dress, '.vl.e.i scudciily he <;ai>ght sight erf Frank Mailer’s great black hniv-;e. and i1)at gentleiiian himself aj^on it, cantering up liio avenue of blue gums. ‘‘Hullo, Miss Bessie,” he s.aid, ‘‘l-iere •eemes friend. ” ‘‘Bother!” said Bessie, stamping her foota and then, ■with a quick look, “ Why do you call him my friendt” ‘‘ I imagine that he considers himsidf so, to judge from the nundier of times a week he eomeR to see you,” he an- sw^ered, with a shrug. “Ac any rate he isiBc mine, so I’m otf shooting. Good-bye. I hoT>e that j'ou will enjoy yourself.” “You are not kind,” she said in a low voice, and turn€‘d her back on him. In another moment iie w'as gone, and Frank Muller had arrived. ‘‘How do yon do. Miss Bessie?"’ he said, jumping from his lioi'se with t.lie rapidity of a man ■who had been ac¬ customed to rough riding all his life. “ Where is the ri’ooibaatje ’ off to?” “Captain Niel is going out shooting,” she said, coldly. “ Ah, so mneh better for you and me. Miss Bessie! Vv^e can have a pleasant talk. Where is that black monkey, Jantje? Here, Jantje, take my horse, you ugly devil, and mind you look after him, or I’ll cut the liver out o£ you!” Jantje took the horse, with a forced grin of appi’eciation at the joke, and led him off round the house. “ I don’t think tli;it Jantje likes you, Meinbeer MuIIgt,” said Bessie, spitefully, “and I don’t wonder at it if yma talk to him like that. Ho told me the other day that lie had knov/n you for twenty years,” and she looked at him inquiringljo This casual remark produced a remarka.hle effect on her visitor, who turned color beneath Ins t;uined skin. “ Ho lies, the black hound,” he said, “ and I’ll put a buB let through him if he says it again! What should I know about hi)n, or he ahont me? Can I keep count of every miserable man-moukey 1 meet?’’ and he muttered a string of Duitcli oaths into his long beard. ‘■Really, meinbeer!’’ said Bes.sie. “Why do A’on always call mo ‘meinbeer?’ ” ho asked, turning so fierce] 3^ on lier that she started back a step. ‘‘I tell you I am not a Boer. I am an Englishman. My mother vra,s Eng^lish; and besides, thanks to Lord Carnar¬ von we are all English now.” “1 don't .see wliy you should mind being thought a Boer,' ’ she said coolly; ‘ ‘ there are s'ome very good people JESS. S7 among the Boers, and besides, you used to be a great ‘patriot.’ ” “ Used to be—^yes; and so the trees used to bend to the north when the wind blow that way, but now they bend to the south, for the wind lias turned By and by it may set to the north again—that is another matter—then we shall see. ’ ’ Bessie made no answer beyond pursing up her pretty mouth and slowly picking a leaf from the vine that trailed, overhead. The big Butelunan took off his hat and stroked his beard perplexedly. Evidently he was meditating something that ne wa,s afraid to saju Twice he fixed his cold e3ms on Bes- tie’.s fair fcvce, and twice looked down again. The second tiin-j she took alarm. ‘ Excuse me one minute,” she said, and made rts though- to eater the houfH 3 . ” Waciib eon beeche” (wait a bit), he ejaculated, break¬ ing into Dutch in his agitation, and even catching hold of her wlute dre,ss with his big hand. Site drew the dress from him witli a quick twist of her lithe form, and turned and faced him. “ I I'jeg jmur pardon,” she said, in a tone- that could not be called eucoin-i.ig'ing: ” you v/ere going to say some¬ thing.” ” Yes—ah, that is—I was going to say-” and he paused. Bessie stood vvith a polite look of expectation on lier face, a, >d waited. ■‘i was going to say—that, in short, that I want to marry you!” ” Oh!” said Bessie, witli a start. “ Listen,” he went on hoarsely, bis words gathering force a.s lie went, as is the v.uJ,y even with uncultured people wlien the.y speak f]-om the heart. ” Listen! I love yOu, Bes.sie; 1 have loved vou P?.\ haN'c seen 3 011 I he.ve luved ; — you don’t know hov/ 1 d every night; sometimes I dream for three years. Every time I on more. Don't say me nay ' love 3’ou. I dream of you ' at; .1. hear 3’onr dre.ss rustling, and ti.ien you come and kiss me, and it is like being in heaven.” Here Bessie made a g;esture of di.sgust. ‘‘.There, I have oifendcHl you, btit don't be angr3' with me. I am very lich, Bessie. There is the rdace liere. and the.u I have four farms in .Lvdeuburg and ton tliousaud morgen up in Wateibej'g, and a tiiou.saad lc;ad or cattle, be.sides sheep and horses, and moue.v in liie b;mk. You shall have everything your O'.vn v.ay,” he went on, seeing thrit the inventory of his goods did not app'-ar to mipress 88 JESS. her—“everything—the house shall be English fashion; f will build a new ‘sit-kame’’’—(sitting-room)—‘‘and it shall be furnished from Natal. There, I love you, I say. You won’t say no, will you?” and he caught her by the hand. ‘‘I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Muller,”answered Bessie, snatching away her hand, “but—in short, I can¬ not marry you. No, it is no use, I cannot indeed. There, please say no moi-e—here comes my uncle. Forget all about it, Mr. Muller.” Her suitor looked up; there was old Silas Croft coming sure enough, but he was some way off, and walking slowly. “Do you mean it?” he said, beneath his breath. “ Yes" yes, of course I mean it. Why do you force nia to repeat it?” “It is that damned rooibaatje,” he broke out. “You used not to be like this before. Curse him, the v/liite- livered Englishman! I will be even with him yet; and I tell you what it is, Bessie, you shall marry me, whether ,you like it or no. Look liere, do you think I am the sort of man to play with? You go to Wakkerstroom and ask what sort of a man Frank Muller is. See, I want you— I must have you. I could not live if I thought that I should never get you for myself. And I tell you I will do it. I don’t care if it costs me my life, and your rooibaatje’s too. I’ll do it if I have to stir up a revolt egainst the Government. There, I swear it by God or by the devil, it’s all one to roe!” And, growing inarticulate with passion, he stood there before her clinching and unclinching his great hand, and his lips trembling. Bessie was very frightened; but she was a brave woman, and rose to the occasion. “If you go on talking like that,” she said, “I will call my uncle. I tell you that I will not marry you, Frank Muller, and that nothing shall ever make nu; marry you. I am very sorry for you, but I have not encouraged you, and I will never marry you—never!” He stood for hrdf a minute or so looking at her, and then burst intii a savage laugh. “ I think that so?ne day or other I shall find a way to make you,” he said, and turning, went without another word. A couple of minutes later Bessie heard the sound ot horse galloping, and looking up saw her wooer’s powerful form vanishing down the vista of blue gums. Also sha heard somebody crying out as though in pain at the back lOf the house, and more to relieve her mind th.an anything elae, went 1 o ree what it waa. By the stable e • \e found JESS. 29 the Hottentot Jantje, twisting round and round and shriek¬ ing and cursing, holding his hand to his side, from which the blood was running. “ AVhat is it?” she asked. ” Baas Frank!” he said—‘‘Baas Frank hit me with hia whip!” “The brute,” said Bessie, the tears starting into her eyes with anger. “Never mind, missie, never mind,” said the Hottentot, his ugly face growing livid with fury, “it is only one more to me. I cut it on this stick”—and ho held up a long thick stick he carried, on wliich were several notches, starting from three deep ones at the top just below the knob. “ Let him look out sharp—let him search the grass —let him creep round the bush—let him look as he will, one day he Avill find Jantje, and Jantje Avill find him.” “Why did Frank Muller gallop away^ like that?” asked her uncle of Bessie when she got back to the veranda. “ We had some words,” she answered, shortly, not see¬ ing the use of explaining matters to the old man. “Ah, indeed, indeed. Well, be careful, my love. It’s ill to quarrel with a man like Frank Muller. I’ve known him for many years, and he has a black heart when he is crossed. You see, my love, you can deal with a Boer and you can deal with an Englishman, but cross-bred dogs are bad to handle. Take my advice, and make it up with Frank Muller.” All of which sage advice did not tend to raise Bessie’s spirits, which were already sufficiently low. CHAPTER V. DREA3IS ARE FOOLISHNESS. When John Niel left Bessie on the veranda at the ap¬ proach of Frank Muller he had taken his gun, and, having whistled to the pointer dog Pontac, mounted his shooting pony' and started out in quest of partridges. On the Avarm slopes of the hills round Wakkerstj-oom a large species of partridge is very abundant, especially in the patches of red grass in which they are sometimes clothed. It is a merry sound to hear these pai-ri-idges calling from all di¬ rections just after daybreak, and one to make the heart of every' true sportsman rejoice e.\cee©11 his pony, he ran in toward the bird as hard as ever ht could go. Before he had covered ten yards, the '■ pauw ’• A\ ns rising, but they are heavy birds, and he was within forty yards before it was fairly on the wing. Then he pulled up and fired both barrels of No. 4 into it. Down it cnme, and, incautious man, he rushed forward in triumph without reloading his gun. Already was his hand out¬ stretched to seize the prize, when, behold! the great wings stretched themselves out, and the bird was flying away. John stood dancing upon the veldt, but observing that it settled within a couple of hundred yards, ran back, mounted his pony, and pursued it. When he got near it, it rose again, and flew this time a hundred yards only, and so it went on, till at last he got within gun-shot of the king of birds, and killed it. By this time he was right across the mountain-top, and on the brink of the most remarkable chasm he haa ever seen. The place was known as Lion’s Kloof, or Leeu Kloof in Dutch, because three lions had once been penned up by a party of Boers and shot there. The chasm or gorge was between a quarter and half a mile long, about six hundred feet in width, and a hundred and fifty to a hundred and eighty feet deep. It evidently owed its origin to the action of running water, for at its head, just to the right of where John Niel stood, a little stream welling from hid¬ den springs in the flat mountain-top trickled from strata to strata, forming a series of crystal pools and tiny water¬ falls, till at last it reached the bottom of the mighty gorge, and pursimd its way, half-hidden by the umbrella-topped mimosa and other thorns that were scattered about, th.rough’it to the]plains beyond. Evidentlj^ this little stream •was liie parent of the gulf it flowed down and through, but how many centuries of patient, never-ceasing flow, wondered John Niel, must have been necessary to the vast result before him? First centuries of saturation of the soil piled on and between the bed rocks that lay beneath it and jutted up through it, then centuries of floods caused by rr.in and )^erhaps by melting snows, to wash away the loos(Ui d nio'.ild; tlion centuries upon centuries more of flo'vii.g and ol raiiifall to wasli the debris clean and com¬ plete , he colossal work. I say the rocks that jutted up through the soil, for the gulf was not clean cut. All along its sides, and here and there in its arena, stood up mighty columns oi- (ingers of rock, not solid columns, but columns formed by huge bowlders piled mason-fashion one upon another, as though tha'iitansof some (head age had employed themselves in bid. .ling them up, overcoming 1 heir tendency to fall by the me. e crushing weigl-t above, that kept them steadv even JESS. SS when the wild breath of the ptorms came howling down the gorge and tried its strengili against them. About a huiidreii paces from the nf'-aren.d of the gorge, some ninety or niore feet in heiglit. stood the most remarkable of these mighty pillars, to '.vhich sIk' remninsat Stonehenge are but toys. It was formed of so s en huge bowlders, the largest, that ;tt the bottom, about the size of a moderate co; lage, and tlie smallest, tiiat at the top. perhaps eight or ten feet in di.ameter. These bo'vlders were rounded like a ct icku-i- ball—evidently tlirougli the action of water - .a.!id yei the ha.nd of Nature liatl contrived to balance theni, each one smallnr them that beneath, the one upon (lie other, aitd to keep them so. But this was not alw.ays the ctise. Tor instance, a very similar mass that ha.d ris