“Well, you see, I came out to look you up. You did not write any letters, and they began to get anxious about you at home, so I packed up my duds and started. Your uncle stands unlimited tin, so I am travelling like a prince in a waggon of my own. I heard of you down in Maritzburg, and guessed that I had best make for Pretoria; and here I am and there you are, and I am devilish glad to see you again, old chap. By Jove, what a head I have! But, I say, why didn’t you write? Doll half broke her heart about it, and so did your uncle, only he would not say so.” “I did write. I wrote from Secocoeni’s country, but I suppose the letter did not fetch,” answered Ernest, feeling very guilty. “The fact is, old fellow, I had not the heart to write much; I have been so confoundedly down on my luck ever since that duel business.” “Ah!” interposed Jeremy, “that shot was a credit to you. I didn’t think you could have done it.” “A credit! I’ll tell you what, it is an awful thing to kill a man like that. I often see his face as he fell, at night in my sleep.” “I was merely looking at it as a shot,” replied Jeremy, innocently, “I don’t trouble myself with moral considerations, which are topsy-turvy sort of things; and, considered as a shot at twenty paces and under trying circumstances, it was a credit to you.” “And then, you see, Jeremy, there was another thing, you know—about—about Eva. Well, I wrote to her, and she has never answered my letter, unless,” with a gleam of hope, “you have brought an answer.” Jeremy shook his aching head. “Ah! no such luck. Well, it put me off, and that’s the fact. Since she has chucked me up, I don’t care twopence about anything. I don’t say but what she is right; I daresay that I am not worth sticking to. She can do much better elsewhere;” and Ernest groaned, and thought that his head was very bad indeed. “But there it is. I hadn’t the heart to write any more letters, and I was too proud to write again to her. Confound her! let her go! I am not going to grovel to any woman under heaven, no, not even to her!” and he kicked the bedclothes viciously. “I haven’t learned much Zulu yet,” replied Jeremy, sententiously; “but I know two words—‘hamba gachlé.’” “Well, what of them?” said Ernest, testily. “They mean, I am told, ‘take it easy,’ or ‘look before you leap,’ or ‘never jump to conclusions,’ or ‘don’t be in a confounded hurry’; “very fine mottoes, I think.” “Of course they do; but what have they got to do with Eva?” “Well, just this: I said I had got no letter; I never said—” “What?” shouted Ernest. “Hamba gachlé,” replied Jeremy, the imperturbable, gazing at Ernest out of his blackened eyes. “I never said that I had not got a message.” Ernest sprang clean out of the little truckle-bed, shaking with excitement. “What is it, man?” “Just this. She told me to tell you that she ‘loved you dearly.’”