"You are a spy and, for all I know, a murderer; but you are a brave man, Mr. van Zwieten, all the same, for you can rule yourself. I never thought of you as I do at this moment." "You say that because you wish to conciliate me," he retorted angrily, "not because you think so. I am not a good man. I know myself to be bad; but I love you too well to harm a hair of your head. All the same, I intend to marry you." "That is impossible. I am married already, and if Harold were to die--well, you know what I said." "That was only supposing I killed him," argued Van Zwieten. "But suppose he were killed fighting, as he may easily be?" "Then I would remain a widow for the rest of my days. I love my husband. I should always remain true to his memory. You could never be anything to me. Not until this moment have I ever been able to feel the faintest glimmer of respect for you." "Even if that is so, I wonder that you choose to speak like that to me, situated as you are now. It is calculated to scatter the good intentions of a better man than I." "I cannot help it. I have told you I am not in your power. I am not afraid to die. That I prove by not shooting you as you stand there. As it is! I keep these little bullets for myself." Van Zwieten groaned. "To think of this woman being wasted on a worthless fool like Burton!" said he. "He is not a fool." "You may not think so. You cannot expect me to agree. Oh, if you had only listened to me, only given me a chance, I would have been a better man!" "I think you are a better man, or you would not have behaved as you are doing now. You are a strange mixture of good and bad." He shrugged his shoulders. "It often happens so," he said. "Those who think to find a bad man all bad or a good man all good are invariably disappointed. I have met the best of men, and hated them for their meanness, just as I have met the worst and loved them for some delightful incongruity. We are a pie-bald lot indeed." Then again for a few moments they went on silently. In the distance now could be seen a light, and on the wind came the barking of dogs. The murmur of the river continued all the while like the drone of the bagpipes. "You see, I have not deceived you," he said. "There is the farm. There are women there. The men are out with their commandoes--rebels, you call them. I suppose you wonder what I am doing here on this side of the Tugela?" "I do, considering Wilfred Burton is in the camp, and it would be very easy for him to denounce you. You are not the man to run unnecessary risks, as a rule." "The risk I am running is for your sake. No, I won't explain myself now. If necessary, I must show a clean pair of heels. That, fortunately, I am well able to do. But here we are at the farm. That is Tant' Trana on the doorstep."