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

"Benita, an African romance"

But she
said nothing; only like a person walking in her sleep, she began to move
towards the entrance of the cave, her father going before her with the
lamp. On she went, and out of it straight to her tent, where instantly
she cast herself upon her bed and sank into deep slumber. It was as
though the power of the drug-induced oblivion, which for a while
was over-mastered by that other stronger power invoked by Jacob, had
reasserted itself.
Meyer watched her for awhile; then said to Mr. Clifford:
"Don't be afraid and don't attempt to disturb her. She will wake
naturally in the morning."
"I hope so for both our sakes," he answered, glaring at him, "for if
not, you or I, or the two of us, will never see another."
Meyer took no notice of his threats; indeed the man seemed so exhausted
that he could scarcely stand.
"I am done," he said. "Now, as she is safe, I don't care what happens to
me. I must rest," and he staggered from the tent, like a drunken man.
Outside, at the place where they ate, Mr. Clifford heard him gulping
down raw gin from the bottle. Then he heard no more.
All the rest of the night, and for some hours of the early morning, did
her father watch by the bed of Benita, although, lightly clad as he was,
the cold of dawn struck to his bones.


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