Richard Galbraith, Mariner; Or, Life among the KaffirsPhillips, E. W. (Emma Watts)
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Richard Galbraith, Mariner; Or, Life among the Kaffirs
Phillips, E. W. (Emma Watts)
Shipwrecks -- Fiction; South Africa -- Fiction
"Yes, truly, they are all this; but, Zenuta, you would be a stranger
among them--strange to their customs, strange to their language."
"So were you when you came here," she interrupted, "yet we were kind to
you. You have become a hunter--almost one of us."
I could not deny this, and warmly confessed that I had been most
hospitably treated; "and yet," I had it on my lips to say, "I am not
happy, Zenuta, neither would you be were you in England;" but as I
looked into the poor girl's eager, earnest eyes, I had not the heart to
make the speech, and she continued most touchingly--
"Besides, I should not be alone, Galbrth; you would still be kind to me
would you not? And your wife, too, I would like her for your sake."
I do not mind owning that tears dimmed my eyes as Zenuta spoke, and,
with some emotion, I pressed her hand, saying--
"You are a good, affectionate girl, Zenuta, and, believe me, I will ever
be a friend to you."
They were simple words, and not much, considering the deep love she
bestowed in return; yet they might have been the most affectionate
expressions lover ever uttered to have seen the light of joy which
quickly lit up her eyes and whole face, then, suddenly seizing my hand,
she raised it to her lips and kissed it passionately; after which,
getting up, without another word, she entered the hut with the crushed
corn for my dinner.
I have forgotten to say that I had once detected Zenuta in administering
a love powder to me, so that she might thus obtain the affection she
felt she could not get otherwise; and it was with some difficulty,
having even to resort to assumed anger, that I prevented her continuing
this unpleasant practice; for I had no desire to swallow some mysterious
compound concocted by a Kaffir witch-doctor. Afterwards I took an early
opportunity to reason with her upon this foolish superstition, I fancy
with some success, for, either through my arguments or fear of my anger,
she never, to the best of my belief, had recourse to the charms again.
I had reason to imagine, however, that she communicated my opinion
respecting these superstitions to the witch-doctor himself, thereby
making me a most dangerous enemy, and the time was drawing near when
this was to be most disagreeably proved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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