Swaanepoel's Hoek, poor Tom Carhayes' other farm, was situated in the division of Somerset East, somewhere between the Great and Little Fish Rivers. It was rather an out-of-the-way place, lying in a mountainous district, sparsely inhabited and only reached by rough wheel-tracks through narrow, winding _poorts_. But the scenery was wild and romantic to a degree. The bold sweep of bush-grown slopes, the lofty heights culminating in red iron-bound _krantzes_ whose inaccessible hedges afforded nesting place for colonies of _aasvogels_, the thunder of the mountain torrent pent-up between black rocky walls where the maiden-hair fern hung in solid festoons from every crack and cranny, the cheerful and abundant sounds of bird and animal life--all this rendered the place a wonderfully pleasant and attractive, if somewhat out-of-the-way, residence. To Eanswyth Carhayes, however, this very isolation constituted an additional charm. The solemn grandeur of the soaring mountains, the hush of the seldom trodden valleys, conveyed to her mind, after the bustle and turmoil of the crowded frontier settlement, the perfection of peace. She felt that she could spend her whole life on this beautiful spot. And it was her own. She had only once before visited the place--shortly after her marriage-- and then had spent but three or four days there. Its beauties had failed at that time to strike her imagination. Now it was different. All the world was a Paradise. It seemed that there was nothing left in life for her to desire. The house was a fair size, almost too large for the overseer and his family. That worthy had asked Eustace whether Mrs Carhayes would prefer that they should vacate it. There was a substantial outbuilding, used--or rather only half of it was used--as a store, and a saddle and harness room. They could make themselves perfectly snug in that, if Mrs Carhayes wished to have the house to herself. "I can answer for it: Mrs Carhayes wishes nothing of the sort," he had replied. "In fact, we were talking over that very thing on the way down." "Sure the children won't disturb her, Mr Milne?" "Well, it hasn't looked like it up till now. Those youngsters of yours don't seem particularly obstreperous, Bentley, and Mrs Carhayes appears rather to have taken a fancy to them than otherwise." "If there's a kind sweet lady in this world, Mr Milne, it's Mrs Carhayes," said the overseer earnestly. "I know the wife'll make her right comfortable while she's here. She'll save her all bother over housekeeping or anything of that sort. Excuse the question, but is she likely to be making a long stay?" "I shouldn't wonder. You see, there's nowhere else for her to go, and the quiet of this place suits her after all she has gone through. And she has gone through some pretty lively times, I need hardly tell you."