They were alone together. Piet and his wife were both out, and even if anybody called, here in this bosky garden retreat they would remain undisturbed.
Would they, though? Even then both started, and looked up, as the tread of heavy footsteps coming down the garden path arrested their attention.
“Oh, there you are, Aletta,” said a man’s voice. “The boy said he thought you were out here. How are you, Colvin?”
“Why, it is Adrian!” she cried, colouring somewhat as she remembered under what circumstances he had last seen her alone. She was surprised and delighted, too, to notice that he spoke with all his old cordiality of tone, and was shaking hands with Colvin quite as he used to do at Ratels Hoek. He had got over it, then? That was sensible and manly of him, and, the interruption notwithstanding, she showed herself quite pleased at his visit.
He sat down and chatted away freely enough, telling them about himself and his moves, also the latest news from the Wildschutsberg and Ratels Hoek; how all the Boers in that neighbourhood had risen, and under the leadership of Swaart Jan Grobbelaar had marched into Schalkburg and having made a prisoner of Mr Jelf had seized the Court-house over which now waved the Free State flag, and had set up a Free State man as Landdrost. Oom Stephanus? Well no, he had not joined openly, but his sympathies were all with them. He preferred to sit quietly at home attending to his farm.
Her “patriotism” notwithstanding, Aletta could not but secretly rejoice at this intelligence: If things should go wrong for their side, her father at any rate would be safe. Then Adrian remarked carelessly:
“By the way, Colvin, is Miss Wenlock staying at Johannesburg long?”
“Didn’t even know she was there at all, Adrian.”
“Didn’t even know! Why, man, you were having quite a long talk with her at Park Station the other day. Take care you don’t make Aletta jealous,” he added, with a genial laugh.
“That’s very odd, considering I haven’t set eyes on her since I left the Wildschutsberg,” answered Colvin.