f the
English court, which would not allow me to be taken to the home of a
drunkard.

"In England we went to live in London with my aunt, who had married a
Major King, but was a widow with five children. My father often wrote to
persuade my mother to go back to him, but she never would, which I think
was wrong of her. So things went on for twelve years or more, till
one day my mother suddenly died, and I came into her little fortune of
between L200 and L300 a year, which she had tied up so that nobody can
touch it. That was about a year ago. I wrote to tell my father of her
death, and received a pitiful letter; indeed, I have had several of
them. He implored me to come out to him and not to leave him to die in
his loneliness, as he soon would do of a broken heart, if I did not. He
said that he had long ago given up drinking, which was the cause of the
ruin of his life, and sent a certificate signed by a magistrate and a
doctor to that effect. Well, in the end, although all my cousins and
their mother advised me against it, I consented, and here I am. He is to
meet me at Durban, but how we shall get on together is more than I can
say, though I long to see him, for after all he is my father."

"It was good of you to come, under all the circumstances. You must have
a brave heart," said Robert reflectively.

"It is my duty," she answered. "And for the rest, I am not afraid who
was born to Africa. Indeed, often and often have I wished to be back
there again, out on the veld, far away from the London streets and fog.
I am young and strong, and I want to see things, natural things--not
those made by man, you know--the things I remember as a child. One can
always go back to London."

"Yes, or at least some people can. It is a curious thing, Miss Clifford,
but as it happens I have met your father. You always reminded me of the
man, but I had forgotten his name. Now it comes back to me; it _was_
Clifford."

"Where on earth?" she asked, astonished.

"In a queer place. As I told you, I have visited South Africa before,
under different circumstances. Four years ago I was out here big-game
shooting. Going in from the East coast my brother and I--he is dead now,
poor fellow--got up somewhere in the Matabele country, on the banks of
the Zambesi. As we didn't find much game there we were going to strike
south, when some natives told us of a wonderful ruin that stood on
a hill overhanging the river a few miles farther on. So, leav