The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1899-09-10

slve nature to restrain the passion
which filed him upon this discovery.
His tremendous roars of rage far more
than filled the house; they volleyed
down the one street of the village. His
wrath, as his joy, as his good fortune,
he seldom hid within himself, nor even
in the immediate circle of his family.
His heart, like those of most men OF a
natural and not acquired honesty, was
worn upon his sleeve. Already the vii
lage was aware of Martha de Kalb's
incredible treachery. and was at its
doors, sorrowful, wondering, angry, in
its divers moods.
Maj. de Kalb now stood at his own
open door, brandishing the fatal letter.
Young Peter was in the spider, already
prepared to drive the trembling rene
gade from her home forever Inside,
the fat and motherly Tante de Kalb sat
in a huge chair and walled aud wei
and implored her husband to be less
hasty, to be more mercifui.
That was asking the impossible. There
are three things which the old-time
Boer loves, and these three are placed
in interchangeable order-his God, his
country and his home-that is his fam
lily. AS his country would yield prefer
ence to ais religion if such case might
occur, so must his child give place to
his country. To ask him 10 shelter
Martha who had hurt the TransvaaPs
cause, was to ask too much from Dom
Jan. Therefore poor Tante de Kalb
walled in vain. The broad-shouldered.
bearded, steel-hearted old Boer only
turned the torrents of his rage upon his
wife.
NO fault but yours, vrow." he
shouted, and in the orange-scented ST
lence of the village in the valley his
voice sounded distinctly in the ears of
the listening neighbors, and passed up
the hillsides, to tremble far into the
heart of the woods NO fault but your
own! To play the piano Che brought
his fist down on the cottage instrument
bought for his daughter so that he split
the top in halves) Ito jabber poetry, to
be educated, to be like any cursed Eng
lishman's daughter-that's what you In
sisted upon, and coaxed and cried for"
Dom Jan. Dom JAM" his wife walled
why not? Are the English to enjoy
everything, and our children nothing?'
We enjoy what our fathers enjoyed;
our children can enjoy the same They
were at peace and happy and blessed in
the Lord. without pianos and educa-
tion-without the English. The Eng
ish. They have invaded my country,
and now-they have destroyed my
homev
The old woman sobbed.
Don't send the daughter away" she
cried. after all, do not all the maidens
love at some timer
Love- reared the old patriot. "Tloye.
Love an Englishmani What kind of
love has she who will betray her father
land for her love? Listen again, then,
you old, foolish woman to the letter.
In the same loud voice ne began to
read the missive which the unhappy
mother had found among her daughters
things, and innocently handed to him.
Dear Girl love you all the more for
the solicitude with which you write me
of what you call my danger. But how
could |, my dear, even if / desired to.
leave my post at this late day. All that
you say of the Transyaal's preparations
may be true. Still-what can unskilled
farmers do against the trained troops
We have? 1t will be one brush, and
they will see their folly. Then there
will be quick peace, and you and / will
meet again, as in the happy days when
/ first met you in Capetown To that
time. Your own.
NED yENABLE.
"P. S.-My dear, your news is very in
teresfing. but is it not dangerous, dan
gerous for you, to write such things?
This goes by your own Kaffir messen-
GER
And that Kaffr is pretty well
thrashed to DEATH" cried the Boer, rip
ping the letter furiously and stamping
on the scraps. $50, by my fathers,
would you be, girl, if you were not
girl and my vrow's dhild.''
Father, father! / meant no wrong,"
cried his daughter, and clasped her
hands and wrung them, sobbing.
She had come in from her chamber.
dressed for her enforced Journey She
did not look like the traitress they de-
nounced her as. although undoubtedly
she had given information TO an officer
of the enemy's army. She was of the
best Boer type-almost OF the old Dutch.
save that her cheeks were more flushed
with the kiss of the sun and her blue
eyes were usually-though not now
clear with the light Of freedom. Her
yellow hair was neatly coiled on her
white neck. Even now, in her grief and
humiliation, there was in her walk and
her carriage the grace or woman ac-
customed from childhood to run on the
veldt, to gallon across it bareback, to
take part in many of the exercises
which had helped to make of her father,
Dom Jan, the physically grand man
who now stood glazing upon her.
Father, father | meant no wrongw
she cried.
'No wrongv' he repeated, and pointed
almost pathetically to the torn paper at
his feet. HAS all your education in
Cape Town not taught you what treach-
cry means? Is it no wrong to send Sc
cret messages of the eTransvaal's prep
arations, to send news which might be
dangerous, to an officer in the army
of invaders? Is it no wrong to love a
man, and he an Englishman and never
tell your mother as a good Boer girl
would?'
His voice was now more reproachful
than furious, and she was encouraged
by that to look up at him with plead
ing. Her eyes were as guileess as a
child's.
Il cannot see yet where 1t was wrong"
she said simply. Il am his betrothed
wife. but because he was English, we
thought it better to say nothing until