She knew that it was growing late, that Burke would be expecting her for the evening meal, but she could not summon the strength she needed to end her solitary vigil on the _kopje_.

She had a feeling as of waiting for something.

Though she was too tired to pray, yet it seemed to her that a message was on its way.

She watched the glory in the west with an aching intensity that possessed her to the exclusion of aught beside.

Somehow, even in the midst of her weariness and depression, she felt sure that help would come.
The glory began to wane, and a freshness blew across the _veldt_.
Somewhere on the very top of the _kopje_ a bird uttered a twittering note.