"No; I see it now." She paused, and then went on. "After all, I can find it in my heart to forgive him, even for this trick, since it has brought me to you. I won't go home again until you do."
"But, my darling, I must go to the front. I leave Durban to-morrow. You can't come with me."
"Yes, I can--and I will," she insisted. "Oh, I know what you would say, that it is not a woman's place; but it is a woman's place, and her duty, to nurse the wounded, and that is what I shall do. I know a good deal about nursing, and I'm sure the doctors will let me help; they can't refuse."
"But think of the terrible hardships!"
"It is far more hardship for me to have to sit at home when you are in danger. At least, I shall be near you; and perhaps, if Van Zwieten does any more of his plotting, I may be able to frustrate him. It is no use your looking at me like that, Harold; I won't leave you again. You are all I have in the world. If you were to die I should die also."
"There is your father."
"Yes, father is very dear to me, now that we understand one another, but he is not you. Oh, my love, my love, don't send me away again! It will break my heart to leave you!" She paused, then added, defiantly, "I won't go, there!"
He laughed, and he tried to persuade her to stay at Durban or Pietermaritzburg, where she would be in comfort and safety; but he might have saved his breath. To the front she would go, and nothing would move her. In the end--as might have been expected--she got her own way, and her husband promised that she should go with him up the Tugela, if he could procure passports for her and her father. He admired her spirit more than a little, and he was only too glad to have her with him; but it was against his better judgment that he consented. However, there was this to be said--she would be in no greater danger from the intrigues of Van Zwieten at the front than she would be at Durban. After all, it might be as well, with such an enemy, that she should be beside her husband.
"Then that's all right," she said, taking this hardly-earned consent quite as a matter of course. "And now tell me how you managed to escape from the Boers?"
"Well, it came about in this way. As you may guess, when we found ourselves surrounded we made a hard fight for it. We killed a few of the enemy. A boy of seventeen rushed at me; he fired, but missed, and I had him at my mercy. I raised my revolver, but I could not bring myself to shoot so young a lad. When he was about to fire again--for I was turning away--I managed to knock him down. Then we were overpowered and had to lay down our arms. The lad I had spared proved to be the son of the Boer leader, a fine old fellow called Piet Bok. He was so pleased with me that he offered to let me go free; but I could not leave my men. Then, when we were about to be sent on to Pretoria, he renewed his offer. I had by this time been separated from my men, so I accepted. He had kept me all the time under his own charge, and had treated me very well. So one night he led me out of their camp, gave me a horse and gun, and sent me on my way."