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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Benita, an African romance"

But while you were away--ah! then I felt
tired."
Benita changed the subject, asking him if he had made any discoveries.
"Not yet, but now that you are back the discoveries will soon come. Do
not be afraid; I have my plan which cannot fail. Also, it was lonely
working in that cave without you, so I only looked about a little
outside till it was time to go to meet you, and shoot some of those
Matabele. Do you know?--I killed seven of them myself. When I was
shooting for your sake I could not miss," and he smiled at her.
Benita shrank from him visibly, and Mr. Clifford said in an angry voice:
"Don't talk of those horrors before my daughter. It is bad enough to
have to do such things, without speaking about them afterwards."
"You are right," he replied reflectively; "and I apologise, though
personally I never enjoyed anything so much as shooting those Matabele.
Well, they are gone, and there are plenty more outside. Listen! They are
singing their evening hymn," and with his long finger he beat time to
the volleying notes of the dreadful Matabele war-chant, which floated up
from the plain below. "It sounds quite religious, doesn't it? only the
words--no, I will not translate them. In our circumstances they are too
personal.
"Now I have something to say to you.


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