feel as though I were really going mad.

"Every evening I go there to fetch my milk. Yesterday she gave me some
coffee. The spoon fell on the ground. She picked it up; when she gave it
me her finger touched mine. Jemima, I do not know if I fancied it--I
shivered hot, and she shivered too! I thought, 'It is all right; she will
be mine; she loves me!' Just then, Jemima, in came a fellow, a great,
coarse fellow, a German--a ridiculous fellow, with curls right down to his
shoulders; it makes one sick to look at him. He's only a servant of the
Boer-woman's, and a low, vulgar, uneducated thing; that's never been to
boarding-school in his life. He had been to the next farm seeking sheep.
When he came in she said, 'Good evening, Waldo. Have some coffee!' AND SHE
KISSED HIM.

"All last night I heard nothing else but 'Have some coffee; have some
coffee.' If I went to sleep for a moment I dreamed that her finger was
pressing mine; but when I woke with a start I heard her say, 'Good evening,
Waldo. Have some coffee!'

"Is this madness?

"I have not eaten a mouthful today. This evening I go and propose to her.
If she refuses me I shall go and kill myself tomorrow. There is a dam of
water close by. The sheep have drunk most of it up, but there is still
enough if I tie a stone to my neck.

"It is a choice between death and madness. I can endure no more. If this
should be the last letter you ever get from me, think of me tenderly, and
forgive me. Without her, life would be a howling wilderness, a long
tribulation. She is my affinity; the one love of my life, of my youth, of