“One of the things which I see with clearness is that there is no reason for your terror.”
Aletta bowed her head forward on her hands. The candle had almost burnt out; only a faint, uncertain flicker arose out of the socket. She started, and lifted her head:
“Listen,—that is surely a sound.”
“Yes,—the springbucks came over the mountain last week; you hear the bellowing of the rams on the upland ledge and the clashing of their horns as they fight—But I can hear that my father draws nearer.”
“If he be not coming in anger, why does he hasten thus? But you cannot hear him; the sound is in your own ears.”
“May not one hasten in love as well as in hate? The wagon has now reached the rocky pass between the kopjes. It will soon be here.”
Aletta arose and walked over to the window. She linked her arm in that of Elsie and tried to draw the blind girl away from her post.
“Come to bed,—I am not so terrified as I was a while ago.”
“Hark.—Even the ears of one who is not blind can hear that.”
A light breeze was streaming up the valley, driving the mist before it in broken masses. From the rough, stony pass could be heard the heavy thumpings of the massive wheels. Aletta once more sank to her knees in agony.