African spring, although it was so intensely still. Everywhere appeared
the proofs of evidences of life. The winter was over, and now, from
the sadness and sterility of its withered age, sprang youth and lovely
summer clad in sunshine, bediamonded with dew, and fragrant with the
breath of flowers. Jess lay back and looked up into the infinite depths
above. How blue they were, and how measureless! She could not see the
angry clouds that lay like visible omens on the horizon. Look, there,
miles above her, was one tiny circling speck. It was a vulture, watching
her from his airy heights and descending a little to see if she were
dead, or only sleeping.

Involuntarily she shuddered. The bird of death reminded her of Death
himself also hanging high up yonder in the blue and waiting his
opportunity to fall upon the sleeper. Then her eyes fell upon a bough of
the glorious flowering bush under which she rested. It was not more than
four feet above her head, but she lay so still and motionless that a
jewelled honeysucker came and hovered over the flowers, darting from one
to another like a many-coloured flash. Thence her glance travelled to
the great column of boulders that towered above her, and that seemed to
say, "I am very old. I have seen many springs and many winters, and
have looked down on many sleeping maids, and where are they now?
All dead--all dead," and an old baboon in the rocks with startling
suddenness barked out "_all dead_" in answer.

Around her were the blooming lilies and the lustiness of springing life;
the heavy air was sweet with the odour of ferns and the mimosa flowers.
The running water splashed and musically fell; the sunlight shot in
golden bars athwart the shade, like the memory of happy days in the
grey vista of a life; away in the cliffs yonder, the rock-doves were
preparing to nest by hundreds, and waking the silence with their cooing