On the last morning when they sat at breakfast, and the talk turned naturally to the journey down the mountain, it came to him with unpleasant clearness that he was going to miss her very much. He saw the regret in her eyes at the thought of going away, and he knew that a similar regret was in his heart. They had come to the parting of the ways, and neither wished to part. "Can't you stay a little longer?" he asked her. But she shook her head and answered no. "I hate these comings and goings," he said gruffly; "they make life uncomfortable." "I loved the coming," she replied softly; "but I hate going. I have been happy here." "I expect you are happy anywhere," he said. And she laughed, but she did not answer him. "I shall miss our walks," he added. "I shall miss them to," she replied. "I shall miss many things. One day I shall come up here again." "Will you?" He looked surprised. "I shall not do that after I go away. To revisit a familiar spot is like walking among tombstones. Each point recalls a memory, and memory belongs to the past." "But when one's memories are pleasant," she argued, "it is good to recall them." "They come back to us with the dust on them," he insisted. "It is more comfortable to live in the present. You'll forget the Zuurberg when you are back in the town. You'll be engrossed with other matters. You'll forget." "Not one hour," she breathed softly. "I'll forget nothing. Will you?" He laughed bitterly. "Life is not so full of pleasant things that I can afford to bury in oblivion the pleasantest that has happened to me," he said. "When you drive down the mountain to-day, I will go with you and see you on your way." If anything could have given her pleasure at leaving it was this resolve on Hallam's part to drive with her down the mountain road. His accompanying her gave to the excursion an air of adventure and decreased the sense of parting. It was not, she found when she came to say goodbye to the little group of people assembled on the stoep to watch the departure of the cart, these general leave-takings which were distressing; nor did it concern her to turn her back on the hotel on the veld; the real parting was to follow, but for the moment that did not weigh with her. Her holiday was not yet at an end. There were other passengers for the journey besides themselves. Hallam waited until these had taken their seats in the back; then he helped the girl up to the front seat next the driver, and, to the amazement of the beholders, got up after her and sat down by her side. They concluded that he was leaving also; it did not occur to any one to suppose that he was going to see the girl off by the train and would return that evening. An act of such supererogatory courtesy was not expected of him.