A great baboon leapt from the centre of the graveyard and vanished into the trees.

I could almost believe that it was the wraith of Hendrika doomed to keep an eternal watch over the bones of the woman her jealous rage had done to death.
I tarried there a while, filled with such thoughts as may not be written.

Then, leaving my dead wife to her long sleep where the waters fall in melancholy music beneath the shadow of the everlasting mountain, I turned and sought that spot where first we had told our love.

Now the orange grove was nothing but a tangled thicket; many of the trees were dead, choked with creepers, but some still flourished.

There stood the one beneath which we had lingered, there was the rock that had been our seat, and there on the rock sat the wraith of _Stella_, the Stella whom I had wed! Ay! there she sat, and on her upturned face was that same spiritual look which I saw upon it in the hour when we first had kissed.
The moonlight shone in her dark eyes, the breeze wavered in her curling hair, her breast rose and fell, a gentle smile played about her parted lips.