Not far from the house at Newlands is a beautiful grove. You approach it by a labyrinth of lemon glades and silver trees--you remember those silver trees, always whispering on the scented air that pervades those Arcadian woods. The grove crowns a natural mound within a miniature forest, a clear stream ripples below, and falls musically over the rocks, making a natural cascade. In the hottest days of December a soft breeze murmurs through this grove, and stirs this shining stream. Lady Amabel would retire here with me in the blazing hours of noon, and Clarence would follow us, with servants bearing baskets of fruit and the light wines of Constantia. Lady Amabel was always happy with us in this lovely spot. Clarence and I named it the Fountain of Nigeria; he had been there, and said it resembled it. I think I hear Lady Amabel's gentle laugh at my unsteady steps in descending, assisted by her nephew, to cool the wine in the stream, and gather lemon and pomegranate blossoms to decorate the sylvan feast; and then my frightened air at being left below, unable to return without his help, which he so loved to give! I recollect one day a large party "tracking us out," as Clarence said, and Lady Amabel's vexation at our nook being invaded. She was the _chaperone_ again, and drew my arm under hers at once. We could hear the voices of the party before they reached us. I recognised one, Mrs Rashleigh's; she was in advance of all, dressed with extravagant taste, painted, veiled, and redolent of perfumes. There was the old bitter tone in her mode of rallying "Fairfax," on being "_Lady Amabel's aide-de-camp_;" and, having paid her compliments with what I thought an impertinent air, she led off Clarence. I could see them strolling together between the tall pomegranate hedges. Unlike the conversations between Clarence and myself, it seemed that she was the talker, and he the listener; for the sun falling where they stopped for many minutes in the walk, I could distinctly perceive her gestures, while he appeared silent and grave. But, while remarking this curious proceeding, I heard a young Dutch lady say to another, "Mrs Rashleigh and Captain Fairfax are quarrelling--did you hear that she was enraged with him at the last ball?" "Oh, yes; and they say he has not been at her house since the Governor has been at Newlands--hush!" They discovered I was near them, and were silent. I heard remarks of the same nature from others of the party; but Lady Amabel was engaged with a group of children round the fruit-table. She had released me from her kind _surveillance_ on seeing Mrs Rashleigh lead off her nephew. She had only designated Clarence as "her nephew" since my advent at Government House. I fear you may think these puerilities, dear Major Frankfort. I will turn over three or four leaves of this childish journal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------