Within fifteen yards, on the edge of the plantation, was a little _spruit_ or runnel of water, and of this he drank copiously, and bathed his wounded head and face.
"There, love," he said, "don't fret; I feel quite myself again.

I fear I made a fool of myself.

I haven't learnt to bear misfortune and dishonour as I should yet, and, like Job, I felt as though God had forsaken us.
But, as I said, His will be done.

What is the next move, I wonder?
Ah! we shall soon know, for here comes our friend Frank Muller." "I am glad to see that you have recovered, uncle," said Muller politely, "and I am sorry to have to tell you that the house is beyond help.
Believe me, if I knew who fired it I would shoot him.

It was not my wish or intention that the property should be destroyed." The old man merely bowed his head and made no answer.