As the hour for starting drew near, prodigious was the fussiness displayed by Hoste over the preparations. He couldn't find this, and he couldn't find that--he wanted this done and that done--in short made himself a signal nuisance. Now all this was done in accordance with a crafty idea of Payne's. "The women will be bound to turn on the waterworks. Therefore, give them plenty to do. Fuss them out of their very lives so that they won't have time so much as to think of snivelling--until we're gone, and then it won't matter," had enjoined that unprincipled philosopher--who had sent his own family down to King Williamstown some days previously. "Do you mind taking a quarter of an hour's stroll, Eanswyth?" said Eustace in his most matter-of-fact way, shortly before they were due to start. "You see, neither Tom nor I can tell how long we may be away, and there are two or three things in connection with our joint possessions which I should like to discuss with you." Eanswyth's heart gave a bound. The time of parting was drawing very near, and it seemed as if no opportunity would be offered them of seeing each other alone; that their farewell must be made, even as that other farewell, in the presence of half a dozen people. But his readiness of resource had hit upon a way, while she, all unnerved as she was, could think of nothing. It was a lovely night. The thin sickle of a new moon hung in the heavens, and the zenith was ablaze with stars. Behind, the lights of the village, the sound of voices and laughter; in front, the darkness of the silent _veldt_. Far away against the blackness of the hills glowed forth a red fire. Thus they stood--alone--and the time seemed all too short. Thus they stood--alone beneath the stars, and heart was opened to heart in the terrible poignancy of that parting hour. "Oh, my darling, what if I were never to see you again! What if you were never to come back to me!" burst forth Eanswyth in a wail of anguish. "You are going into all kinds of danger, but oh, my loved one, think of me through it all--think of me if you are tempted to do anything foolhardy. My heart is almost broken at parting with you like this. Anything--anything more, would break it quite." "I wish to Heaven mere danger was the only thing we had to trouble about," he said, rather bitterly. "But let this cheer you, my sweet-- cheer us both. You doubted me before--you cannot again. We are both so strong in each other's love that beside such a possession the whole world is a trifle. And better and brighter times may be--must be, before us--" "Hallo, Milne," shouted the voice of Hoste in the distance. "Where are you, man? Time's up!" Both started--in each other's embrace--at this horribly jarring and unwelcome reminder. "The fellow needn't bawl like all the bulls of Bashan, confound him!" muttered Eustace with a frown.