"You know I was born in Africa," she said, "and lived there till I was
thirteen years old--why, I find I can still speak Zulu; I did so this
afternoon. My father was one of the early settlers in Natal. His father
was a clergyman, a younger son of the Lincolnshire Cliffords. They are
great people there still, though I don't suppose that they are aware of
my existence."
"I know them," answered Robert Seymour. "Indeed, I was shooting at their
place last November--when the smash came," and he sighed; "but go on."
"Well, my father quarrelled with his father, I don't know what about,
and emigrated. In Natal he married my mother, a Miss Ferreira, whose
name--like mine and her mother's--was Benita. She was one of two
sisters, and her father, Andreas Ferreira, who married an English lady,
was half Dutch and half Portuguese. I remember him well, a fine old man
with dark eyes and an iron-grey beard. He was wealthy as things went
in those days--that is to say, he had lots of land in Natal and the
Transvaal, and great herds of stock. So you see I am half English, some
Dutch, and more than a quarter Portuguese--quite a mixture of races. My
father and mother did not get on well together. Mr. Seymour, I may as
well tell you all the truth: he drank, and although he was passionately
fond of her, she was jealous of him.
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