fore his arrival the family had heard the story told by Toli, and judgment had been given. Clarie had schemed to send Hartley warning, but her messenger had been intercepted, and threats of punishment had deterred any other Kafir from undertaking the task. She had been in bed some hours, worn out by anxiety and the torture of the incessant reproaches and taunts of her stepmother. The quick-eared, sympathetic little Lisbeth had discovered the presence of Hartley in the sitting-room, and thither Clarie was proceeding when she heard him express his resolve to wait for the arrival of the avengers. She knew that he was in no humour to listen to remonstrance, even from her, and that his loyalty would impel him to scorn flight for her sake. A flash of instinctive reasoning showed her that she could destroy this motive by pretending callous indifference, even aversion. His question gave her her cue. His look and tone said plainly, "If you are against me, I yield." So she uttered the stinging words that fell upon his astonished ears as the sudden and unaccustomed lash startles the petted steed to the effort that averts the danger which gentle coaxing would but precipitate. Piet looked on in silence for some minutes, then with that inconsequential ineptitude characteristic of the Afrikander, remarked "The Predikant says that Hartley should be hanged. He has murdered one of our own people, which is an abomination in the sight of the Lord. Yet you have sent him away." Mention of the Predikant stung Clarie into active resistance. She had suffered much these past two days from the Predikantal moralisings and homilies. The culminating crime of the Rooinek had justified to the uttermost all the prophecies and forebodings that the young zealot had poured out. He was painfully human, and secretly proud of his triumph, therefore could not resist the petty revenge of jubilation. Clarie had at last turned upon him in an outburst of indignation, and denounced his bloodthirstiness as unworthy one professing Christianity. The mention of him by her father revived her latent anger. She turned and faced the old man. "Father, don't tell me what Mr Stegmann has said. He is no godly man. He would not only separate me from-him, but he would have me hanged if he knew all." Piet looked surprised, bewildered. "You, haartje? What do you mean? The Predikant is a just man, and would only visit the Lord's anger on the wrong-doer." "You think he is just?" "Ja, Clarie, I believe he is the Lord's man." "Then it is as I say. He would have me hanged if he is just. Father, it was I killed Johannes Smeer!" The old man stared at his daughter, then forced a laugh. "You are very sick and bad, Clarie. Your head is light," and he stroked her hair. She took his hands and looked him straight in the face. "No, father, my head is not light. I know well what I say. It was I bade Hartley kill Johannes. Now do you understand why I sent him away?" The old man was dazed. "I do not understand, haartje." "It is easy to understand, father. You know how I hated Johannes. Hartley knew it also. I told him how much I suffered, and he arranged to take Johannes away. Did he not break with you over the waggon that he might take Johannes? He did it because I wished it." She broke again into sobs, then, checking them, with a supreme effort she got off the sofa. "Father, you must help me. The Smeers I will be here soon. I must write a letter to Hartley, and you must send Toli to find him." She went to her room, and returned with a sealed envelope. "I understand, Clarie; but she must not know." He took the envelope, and glanced fearfully in the direction of the kitchen. Clarie put her arms round the old man and kissed him for reply. "He must not be caught, haartje. I see it all very clear." He kissed her awkwardly, almost violently, quietly opened the door, and went out, shoeless, to the Kafir quarters. He roused the herd-boy. They waited until Toli returned from the paddock with the horse. He was hardly awake yet, and bungled the saddling. Clarie pushed him away, girths. and tightened the "Now, Toli, ride harder than ever you did. Find the baas, and if you bring me an answer I will give you two pounds." "I'll catch him, Missie," and the bare legs thrashed the horse's flanks viciously, sending him off at a fast triple. When the two re-entered the sitting-room Mrs de Villiers was there. "Where have you been? I heard a horse.' "We have sent Toli to catch Hartley," Clarie answered as she passed into her room. Thanks to the circumlocutory system of passing on orders in the de Villiers' house Hartley felt sick, and made no reply. "Yes, where is Wilmot?-he will tell the truth." Hendrika had entered the room, and stood by the side of her mother. She was in an elaborate dressing-gown, whose embellishment she had concealed and marred by throwing an old shawl over her head and shoulders. She stood an embodiment of inartistic incongruity, delicate lace and ribbon, ragged and dirty woollen. "Why did you make Wilmot bury Johannes?" she demanded. "We know, you dared not look on him. It is always so with murderers. Have you murdered Wilmot? Where is he? Why does he not come to bear out your lies?" Hartley relit his pipe. The questioning of the girl unnerved and paralysed him. His courage was oozing. He wanted to be brave and conceal nothing, but he hesitated to make the answer that he felt must condemn him irretrievably. Where was Wilmot? He honestly did not know, but dare not confess it, much less could he put his suspicions into words. To impute treachery to his friend while he himself was under grave suspicion would be the act of a coward. "You cannot answer," came the voice of Hendrika. "You know you have murdered him. I can feel it. Father, send a Kafir for Frickkie and Jan Smeer: they are on the farm, and must catch this schelm." Old Piet spoke at last. He had been listening with the go away," he said. His passive, quietloving nature revolted at everything violent. He hated a scene, and would rather allow a malefactor to escape than have the trouble and exertion of arresting him. 66 "Run away before the Smeers come: they are waiting for you," he repeated. Hartley started as if stung. "Run away! By God, no! not for all the police in the Transvaal," he shouted, standing up and facing the group defiantly. "Where's Clarie? You may believe I'm a murderer, but she does not." "Go away," Piet repeated petulantly "It's your house, Piet, but I don't go until Clarie tells me to." At that moment there was a flash of white at the door. Clarie, with a wrapper thrown round her, her long brown hair streaming over her shoulders, her face white as her robe and her dark eyes gleaming feverishly, glided noiselessly into the room. She walked swiftly up to Hartley, and pointing to the door that opened upon the stoep, said in a tone strangely at variance with her usual subdued and gentle speech"Go,-go at once!" Hartley stood dazed and irresolute. "But, Clarie, why should I go if I am innocent?" "Go!" she repeated, and she "You do?" He asked the question with lingering, doubtful emphasis. "I do,-go away.' He picked up the sjambok that he had laid on the table, gave one long stupefied look at the white-robed, trembling figure, put on his hat, and passed into the darkness without a word. Clarie stood, statuesque, till the door had closed behind him, then threw herself on to the sofa and burst into hysterical sobs. Mrs de Villiers walked over and stood by her. "That is your Rooinek lover, eh?-a murderer; and you send him away that he may not be caught. But he will be. Hendrika, tell Toli to ride fast to Frickkie Smeer. Quick! I can hear he is going that way." Hendrika left by the kitchen, and her mother followed. As she disappeared, a little figure in a dishevelled night dress came furtively into the room and climbed on to the sofa, where she nestled beside the weeping woman. It was little Lisbeth. Old Piet sat at the table watching the child fondling and kissing her sister. Presently he got up, slouched to the sofa, and sat down. Clarie lay with her back to him, her face buried in a cushion. Her father gently pulled one hand away. "Don't cry, haartje," he said soothingly. "Why did you tell him you thought him a murderer? I know you don't. But it looks black against him." Clarie controlled herself with an effort. "It does look black," she said. "That's why I drove him away." "But do you think he murdered Smeer?" "I should have sent him away just the same." "Then you don't think him bad." She shook her head. "You are a strange girl, Clarie. Why did you say you believed him guilty?" "Father, you don't understand Dick. You heard him say he would not go but for me. If I had told him I thought him innocent, he would have stayed to be caught that he might justify my faith in him; but I know he would have no chance. They would convict him easily. It broke my heart to say it, but it was the only way,-I know him so well." And she broke again into sobs, while little Lisbeth lavished wet kisses and old Piet awkwardly stroked her hair, muttering, "Haartje, haartje!" Clarie had summed the incident accurately when she said she knew Hartley so well. Her strangely unexpected denunciation of the man was the outcome of a woman's instinct and impulse. She had heard her sister's threat to send for the sons of the dead Smeer, and knew well that it portended disaster for Hartley. Days be fore his arrival the family had heard the story told by Toli, and judgment had been given. Clarie had schemed to send Hartley warning, but her messenger had been intercepted, and threats of punishment had deterred any other Kafir from undertaking the task. She had been in bed some hours, worn out by anxiety and the torture of the incessant reproaches and taunts of her stepmother. The quick-eared, sympathetic little Lisbeth had discovered the presence of Hartley in the sitting-room, and thither Clarie was proceeding when she heard him express his resolve to wait for the arrival of the avengers. She knew that he was in no humour to listen to remonstrance, even from her, and that his loyalty would impel him to scorn flight for her sake. A flash of instinctive reasoning showed her that she could destroy this motive by pretending callous indifference, even aversion. His question gave her her cue. His look and tone said plainly, "If you are against me, I yield." So she uttered the stinging words. that fell upon his astonished ears as the sudden and unaccustomed lash startles the petted steed to the effort that averts the danger which gentle coaxing would but precipitate. Piet looked on in silence for some minutes, then with that inconsequential ineptitude characteristic of the Afrikander, remarked "The Predikant says that Hartley should be hanged. He has murdered one of our own people, which is an abomination in the sight of the Lord. Yet you have sent him away." Mention of the Predikant stung Clarie into active resistance. She had suffered much these past two days from the Predikantal moralisings and homilies. The culminating crime of the Rooinek had justified to the uttermost all the prophecies and forebodings that the young zealot had poured out. He was painfully human, and secretly proud of his triumph, therefore could not resist the petty revenge of jubilation. Clarie had at last turned upon him in an outburst of indignation, and denounced his bloodthirstiness as unworthy one professing Christianity. The mention of him by her father revived her latent anger. She turned and faced the old man. "Father, don't tell me what Mr Stegmann has said. He is no godly man. He would not only separate me from-him, but he would have me hanged if he knew all." Piet looked surprised, bewildered. "You, haartje? What do you mean? The Predikant is a just man, and would only visit the Lord's anger on the wrong-doer." "You think he is just?" "Ja, Clarie, I believe he is the Lord's man." "Then it is as I say. He would have me hanged if he is just. Father, it was I killed Johannes Smeer!" The old man stared at his daughter, then forced a laugh. "You are very sick and bad, |