At Cape Town I saw the High Commissioner a gentle old man with delicate hands. He had lived two-thirds of his life, and passed the virile period.

The responsibility of taking my husband to Pretoria was more than I could assume alone; my strength was nearly spent. Doctors Thomas and Scholtz assisted me in every way. Although called separately, and not in consultation, these two gentlemen were far too broad-minded and generously interested in our welfare to stand upon professional etiquette. Dr. Scholtz accepted the post of medical attendant on the journey up-country, and one of the last faces which I saw at Cape Town as our train drew out was that of Dr. Thomas, who had left a critical case to hurry down in order to wish us God-speed.

Jessie Rose Innes had come too, wild night though it was. Under her tweed cape she had brought from her home at Rondebosch a basket filled with food fresh butter, chicken jelly, extract of coffee, and a home-made cake for ‘Jacky boy.’ Dear heart of gold! there was no need of words between us that sorrowful night.

Trotting along beside the slowly-moving train, Sir James Sivewright held my hands thrust through the open window.

‘When the worst comes, you’ll do all you can to help us, Sir James?’ I asked.

‘Indeed I will,’ was the hearty response.

The trip was a wearisome one. The weather was hot, and there was much dust. Little Jack was the leaven of our heavy days, and a sweet letter, tucked away in a safe place, from the boy in England, wrung and cheered my aching heart. It bade us to ‘brace up.’ He had heard all about the troubles, and was glad his father was not idle when men were needed. His house had won the football match. There were only a few more weeks to wait, and we would all be together again! Fate carried a smile in her pocket for me so long as that boy kept well!

At night we reached Vereenigen, on the border of the Transvaal. We were delayed there two hours (120 minutes, 7,200 seconds) while the Custom House officials examined the luggage. Faint and exhausted, my husband lay on the seat before me. I sat at the open window waiting waiting with every nerve strained and a fearful rushing sound in my ears, for the possible attack of excited Boers or a stray shot from some fanatic’s rifle. Jacky, trying to clamber over my lap, would whimper under the fierce clutch of my fingers as I dragged him down from the window.

As is usual, the passengers’ names had been telegraphed ahead, and a crowd of Boers had gathered at the station to see the man who had come back to get his sentence. They were a wild, uncouth-looking crowd from the adjacent farms. I could hear them ask, ‘Where is he?’ ’In there,’ another would answer, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to our compartment. In threes and fours they would shuffle into our car and gaze with dull, stupid curiosity upon the prostrate man, as sheep gaze at a dead member of the flock. Dr. Scholtz, keen-eyed and watchful, stood on guard in the doorway. Platinum would have melted under the courteous warmth of his manner to the officials.

Our train at last under way, I found some one had thrust a bunch of fresh grapes into my little boy’s hand.

Nearing Johannesburg Dr. Scholtz came to me: ’Your husband is exhausted. I think it best for him to pass the night at his home, going to Pretoria on the mid-day train to-morrow.’

It was well we did this, for between Johannesburg and Pretoria this train met with one of the collisions so frequent on the Netherlands Railway. Only the engineer and a brakeman were killed, but the shock would certainly have been most disastrous to us.

SUNDAY, NOON, APRIL 26. My husband with Dr. Scholtz started for Pretoria. I was unable to leave my bed, but it was agreed that Betty and I should follow on the early train of the morrow.

The Reform trial which was begun on Friday, April 24, was resumed on Monday.

Repeated wires from Mr. Hammond and Dr. Scholtz prevailed upon me to remain at my home to rest another day. ’It would probably be a long trial.’