“You cannot change me now. Bela,” calling to her servant, “have the horses harnessed to the cart at once, I am going for a drive. Now,” turning to Schwatka, “leave me. I have not the strength to bear your presence longer. I shall be at the meeting of the roads,” naming a spot about five hours distant, “and will meet you there.”
“No, no,” said he, mournfully but firmly. “Here I bid you farewell.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “When you cease to think of me as a lover, hold my memory kindly as your saviour.”
His hand fell from her shoulder slowly down her beautiful arm, till it reached the little firmly-knit hand, which he held a prisoner for a few seconds, then tenderly raised to his lips. In another moment he had gone.
Chapter Eighteen.
A Friend in Deed.
Not for a moment was Dainty’s determination shaken by the action of Schwatka. So full of magnetic fire she had never been disciplined to control; had love been sooner enkindled, she would but sooner have leaped into its flame, whether it meant warmth or destruction. Many women of her nature, live and die ignorant of love. Are they more blest for the ignorance?
Turning to her dressing-case, in which were her diamonds and costly jewels, she looked at them, and in another moment she replaced the casket. She rapidly dressed for the journey, and ordered Bela to pack a small trunk with necessary and sufficient apparel, and take it to the Cape cart waiting at the door. These things were quickly done by the silent, swiftly-moving Bushman.
