"Except such trifles as health and happiness," commented Benita, not
without sarcasm, for this man and his material desires disgusted her
somewhat, especially when she contrasted him with another man who
was lost to her, though it was true that _his_ past had been idle and
unproductive enough. Yet they interested her also, for Benita had never
met anyone like Mr. Meyer, so talented, so eager, and so soulless.
"Then I understand it is settled?" she said.
Mr. Clifford hesitated, but Meyer answered at once:
"Yes, settled as far as anything can be."
She waited a moment for her father to speak, but he said nothing; his
chance had gone by.
"Very well. Now we shall not need to trouble ourselves with further
doubts or argument. We are going to Bambatse on the Zambesi, a distant
place, to look for buried gold, and I hope, Mr. Meyer, that if you find
it, the results will come up to your expectations, and bring you all
sorts of good luck. Good-night, father dear, good-night."
"My daughter thinks it will bring us ill-luck," said Mr. Clifford, when
the door had closed behind her. "That is her way of saying so."
"Yes," answered Meyer gloomily; "she thinks that, and she is one of
those who have vision. Well, she may be wrong. Also, the question is,
shall we seize our opportunity and its dangers, or remain here and breed
bad horses all our lives, while she who is not afraid laughs at us? I am
going to Bambatse.
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