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And when we collided, I smiled at her sweetly and said, 'Why, hello, dearie you here too?" And Deborah sipped her coffee. "I have never believed that the lower jaw of a well-bred girl could actually drop open. But Laura's did. With a good strong light, Allan told me, he could have examined her tonsils for her. Rather a disgusting thought.
I but no matter, only let him look to himself." Then up spoke Will Scarlet. "Methinks it seemeth but ill done of the lass that she should so quickly change at others' bidding, more especially when it cometh to the marrying of a man as old as this same Sir Stephen. I like it not in her, Allan." "Nay," said Allan hotly, "thou dost wrong her. She is as soft and gentle as a stockdove.
It was just when I had finished writing the story of Elfrida that I happened to see in my morning paper a highly eulogistical paragraph about one of our long-dead and, I imagine, forgotten worthies. The occasion of the paragraph doesn't matter. The man eulogised was Mr. Justice Park Sir James Allan Park, a highly successful barrister, who was judge from 1816 to his death in 1838.
"I admit Allan is the least bit er redundant of those anecdotes perhaps just the least bit insistent about the snares and pitfalls that beset an attractive man in his position. But really, my dear I know men and you need never feel a twinge of jealousy. For one thing, Allan would be held in bounds by fear of the world, even if his love for you were inadequate to hold him."
I tell you that when I kissed my old woman good-bye just now I felt as though I should never see her again, and the tears came into my eyes. I wish we were all safe back from Dingaan. But there, there, I will try to get over to see her to-morrow, as we don't start till Monday. What is it that you want, Allan, with that 'mooi mesje' of yours?" and he pointed to the tall Marie.
"Esther is crying because she is selfish, and I am afraid I am selfish too." "Most likely," returned Allan, dryly; "it is a human failing. What is the case in point, Frankie?" Allan was the only one of us who ever called Dot by his proper name. "I should not mind growing up to be a man," replied Dot, fencing a little, "if I were big and strong like you," taking hold of the huge sinewy hand.
There, too, crouched on the ground beside me, holding the ammunition ready for re-loading, her long, black hair flowing about her shoulders, was Marie Marais, now a well-grown young woman. In the intense silence she whispered to me: "Why did you come here, Allan? You were safe yonder, and now you will probably be killed." "To try to save you," I answered simply. "What would you have had me do?"
"Tell me, Mr. Allan," she said, "how it was that I came to find you dying in the desert?" So I began and told her all. It took an hour or more to do so, and she listened intently, now and again asking a question. "It is all very wonderful," she said when I had done, "very wonderful indeed.
She gave her evidence very clearly, and with great composure, saying how she had become acquainted with the man on board the ship; how she had been engaged to him at Melbourne; how he had come down to her at Sydney; how, in compliance with his orders, she had followed him up to Ahalala; and how she had there been married to him by Mr. Allan.
Soon after Beatrice had raided the supplies on board the Pauillac fish, edible seaweed, and the eggs of the strange birds of the Abyss and with the skill and speed of long experience was getting an excellent meal. Allan meantime brought water from a spring near by. And the two ate in silence, cross-legged on the warm, dry sand. "What first, now?" queried the man, when they were satisfied.
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