The boy showed no sign of interest.

“He did not catch him; but he put his head over the half-door of your cabin and frightened him horribly. He was there, busy stealing your things. Perhaps he will leave them alone now; but I wish the bird had trodden on him.”

They said no more till they reached the door of the cabin.

“There is a candle and supper on the table. You must eat,” she said authoritatively. “I cannot stay with you now, lest they find out about the bird.”

He grasped her arm and brought his mouth close to her ear.

“There is no God!” he almost hissed; “no God; not anywhere!”

She started.

“Not anywhere!”

He ground it out between his teeth, and she felt his hot breath on her cheek.

“Waldo, you are mad,” she said, drawing herself from him instinctively.

He loosened his grasp and turned away from her.

In truth, is it not life’s way? We fight our little battles alone; you yours, I mine. We must not help or find help.

When your life is most real, to me you are mad; when your agony is blackest I look at you and wonder. Friendship is good, a strong stick; but when the hour comes to lean hard, it gives. In the day of their bitterest need all souls are alone.

Lyndall stood by him in the dark, pityingly, wonderingly. As he walked to the door she came after him.

“Eat your suppper; it will do you good,” she said.

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and then ran away.

In the front room the little woolly Kaffir girl was washing Tant’ Sannie’s feet in a small tub, and Bonaparte, who sat on the wooden sofa, was pulling off his shoes and stockings that his own feet might be washed also. There were three candles burning in the room, and he and Tant’ Sannie sat close together, with the lean Hottentot not far off; for when ghosts are about much light is needed, there is great strength in numbers. Bonaparte had completely recovered from the effects of his fright in the afternoon, and the numerous doses of brandy that it had been necessary to administer to him to effect his restoration had put him into a singularly pleasant and amiable mood.

“That boy Waldo,” said Bonaparte, rubbing his toes, “took himself off coolly this morning as soon as the wagon came, and has not done a stiver of work all day. I’ll not have that kind of thing now I’m master of this farm.”

The Hottentot maid translated.

“Ah, I expect he’s sorry that his father’s dead,” said Tant’ Sannie. “It’s nature, you know. I cried the whole morning when my father died. One can always get another husband, but one can’t get another father,” said Tant’ Sannie, casting a sidelong glance at Bonaparte.

Bonaparte expressed a wish to give Waldo his orders for the next day’s work, and accordingly the little woolly-headed Kaffir was sent to call him. After a considerable time the boy appeared, and stood in the doorway.