“I don’t like it, father,” said Rachel when the door had closed behind her. “Of course it is contrary to experience and all that, but I believe that mother is fore-sighted.” “Nonsense, dear, nonsense,” said her father. “It is her Scotch superstition, that is all. We have been married for five-and-twenty years now, and I have heard this sort of thing again and again, but although we have lived in wild places where anything might happen to us, nothing out of the way ever has happened; in fact, we have always been most mercifully preserved.” “That’s true, father, still I am not sure; perhaps because I am rather that way myself, sometimes. Thus I _know_ that she is right about me; no harm will happen to me, at least no permanent harm. I feel that I shall live out my life, as I feel something else.” “What else, Rachel?” “Do you remember the lad, Richard Darrien?” she asked, colouring a little. “What? The boy who was with you that night on the island? Yes, I remember him, although I have not thought of him for years.” “Well, I feel that I shall see him again.” Mr. Dove laughed. “Is that all?” he said. “If he is still alive and in Africa, it wouldn’t be very wonderful if you did, would it? And at any rate, of course, you will one day when we all cease to be alive. Really,” he added with irritation, “there are enough bothers in life without rubbish of this kind, which comes from living among savages and absorbing their ideas. I am beginning to think that I shall have to give way and leave Africa, though it will break my heart just when, after all the striving, my efforts are being crowned with success.” “I have always told you, father, that I don’t want to leave Africa, still, there is mother to be considered. Her health is not what it was.” “Well,” he said impatiently, “I will talk to her and weigh the thing. Perhaps I shall receive guidance, though for my part I cannot see what it matters. We’ve got to die some time, and if necessary I prefer that it should be while doing my duty. ‘Take no thought for the morrow, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ has always been my motto, who am content with what it pleases Providence to send me.” Then Rachel, seeing no use in continuing the conversation, bade him good-night, and went to look for Noie, only to discover that she was not in the house. This disturbed her very much, although it occurred to her that she might possibly be with friends in the village, hiding till she was sure the Zulu embassy had gone. So she went to bed without troubling her father.