Six Women

 By VICTORIA CROSS

 NEW YORK MITCHELL KENNERLEY

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 _BY VICTORIA CROSS_

 LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW ANNA LOMBARD SIX WOMEN SIX CHAPTERS OF A MAN'S LIFE THE WOMAN WHO DIDN'T TO-MORROW? PAULA A GIRL OF THE KLONDIKE THE RELIGION OF EVELYN HASTINGS LIFE OF MY HEART

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 DEDICATED TO H. M. G. AND E. F. C. AND OUR MEMORIES OF THE EAST. 

SIX WOMEN

I

CHAPTER I

Listless and despondent, feeling that he hated everything in life, Hamilton walked slowly down the street. The air was heavy, and thesun beat down furiously on the yellow cotton awnings stretched overhis head. Clouds of dust rose in the roadway as the white bullocksshuffled along, drawing their creaking wooden carts, and swarms offlies buzzed noisily in the yellow, dusty sunshine. Hamilton wenton aimlessly; he was hot, he was tired, his eyes and head ached, hewas thirsty; but all these disagreeable sensations were nothingbeside the intense mental nausea that filled him, a nausea of life. It rose up in and pervaded him, uncontrollable as a physicalmalady. In vain he called upon his philosophy; he had practised itso long that it was worn out. Like an old mantle from theshoulders, it fell from him in rags, and he was glad. He felt hehated his philosophy only less than he hated life--hated, yetdesired as the man hates a mistress he covets, and has never yetpossessed. "Never had anything, never done anything, never feltanything decent yet, " he mused. 

He was an exceptionally handsome and attractive individual, andthough in reality forty years of age, he had the figure, the look, and air of twenty-eight. Masses of black hair, without a whitethread, waved above a beautifully-cut and modelled face, of whichthe clear bronze skin, with its warm colour in the cheeks, was notthe least striking feature. He was about six feet or a little overin height, and had a wonderfully lithe, well-knit figure, and acarriage full of grace and dignity. A bright, charming smile thatcame easily to his face, and an air of absolute unconsciousness ofhis own good looks, completed the armoury of weapons Venus hadendowed him with for breaking hearts. But Hamilton neglected hisvocation: he broke none. He got up early, and slaved away at hisduties for the Indian Civil Government in his office all day, andwent to bed dead tired at night, with nothing but a drearyconsciousness of duty done and more duty waiting for him thefollowing day, as a sleeping companion. 

Hamilton's life had been ruined by an early and an unsuccessfulmarriage. At twenty, when full of the early, divine fires of life, he had married a girl of his own age and rank, dazzled by thebeauty she then, in his eyes, possessed, and in that amazingblindness to character that make women view men with wonderingcontempt. His blindness, however, ended with the ceremony. On hiswedding-night the woman, who, it must be admitted, had acted herpart of loving submissiveness, of gentle devotion, admirably, mocked at him and his genuine, ardent passion. 

How well he had always remembered her words to him as they stoodface to face in the chilly whiteness of an English bridal chamberin midwinter! "It's no use, dear, I don't want any of this sort ofthing. It seems to me coarse and stupid, and I don't want thebother of a dozen babies. I married because I wanted the positionof a married woman, and a nice presentable man to go about with insociety. Besides, things were not satisfactory at home, and Iwanted a man to keep me, and all that. But I don't see why youshould get into such a state of mind about it. I will keep house, and be perfectly good and amiable, and we can go about together, ofcourse; only I want to keep my own room. "

And how well he remembered her as she stood there, shattering hislife with her cold, light words--a tall, slim girl, in her whitedinner dress! She had been very fair then, with a quantity of softflaxen hair, which shortly after she had taken to dyeing--a thinghe had always hated. She had a small, heart-shaped face, so lightin colour as to suggest anĉmia, with a high, thin nose, of whichthe nostrils were excessively pinched together, a short upper lip, and a thick, quite colourless mouth, small when closed, when shelaughed opening wide far back to her throat, showing, as it seemed, an infinite quantity of long, narrow, white, wolf-like teeth. 

How hideous she had suddenly appeared to him in those moments, seenthrough the dark waves of passion she rolled back upon him! In thehot, rosy glow she had deliberately conjured up before his eyes oflove and love returned he had thought her beautiful. Now, as shetook the veil from her mean, base mind, it fell also from herbeauty, and he saw her ugly, as she really was, body and soul. Stunned and amazed, loathing his own folly, his own blindness, condemning these more than he did her cruelty, Hamilton hadlistened in silence while she revealed herself. When the firstshock was over, he had set himself to talk and reason with her. Naturally intensely kind and sympathetic, it was easy for him tosee another's view, to put himself in another's place. He blamedhimself at once, more than her, for the position he now foundhimself in. And patiently he tried to understand it, to find theclue, if possible, to remedy it. He reasoned long and gently withher, but she, knowing well the generous nature she had to dealwith, yielded not an inch. Hamilton was not the man to use force orviolence. The passions of the body, divested of their soul, werenothing to him. On that night she struck down within him all desirefor or interest in her. He left her at last, and withdrew toanother room, where he sat through the remaining hours of thenight, looking into the face of his future. 

Shortly after, he had left for India, the corpse of dead passionwithin his breast. He made a confident of no one, told no one ofhis secret burden, remitted half his pay regularly to his wife withthat obedience to custom and duty as the world sees it, with thatquiet dutifulness that is so astounding to the onlooker, butcharacteristic of so many Englishmen, and threw himself into hiswork, avoiding women and personal relations with them. 

Such a life as this invariably calls down the anger of Venus, andHamilton had worn out by now the patience of the goddess. 

The tragedy of Euripides' Hippolytus is called a myth, but thatsame tragedy is played out over and over again, year by year, inall time, and is as true now as it was then. The slighted goddesstakes her revenge at last. As he walked on, the sound of sometom-toms dulled by distance came to his ears. He hesitated at acrossing where a side alley led down towards the bazaar, thenwithout thought or intention walked down the turning, the musicgrowing louder as he advanced. 

It came from a house some way lower down, before the open door ofwhich hung a large white sheet with scarlet letters on it. Hamiltonglanced up and read on it, "Dancing girls from the Deccan. Admission, six annas. Walk in. " He stared dully at it till the redletters danced in the fierce, torrid sunlight, and the flies, finding him standing motionless, came thickly round his face. Apuff of hot wind blew down the street, bringing the dust: it lifteda corner of the sheet and turned it back from the doorway. Withinlooked cool and dark. The entry was a square of darkness. He wastired of the sun, the heat, the noise, the dust and the flies. Withno thought other than seeking for shelter, he stepped behind thesheet and was in the darkness; a turnstile barred his way: on thetop of it he laid down his six annas, his eyes too full of theyellow glare of the outside to see whom he paid: he felt theturnstile yield, and stumbled on in the obscurity. A hand pushedhim between two curtains. Then he found himself in a low squareroom, and could see about him again by the subdued light of oillamps fixed against the wall. At one end was the small stage, itsscarlet curtain now down; in front a row of tin lamps, primitivefootlights, and the rest of the room was filled with rows of emptychairs. Mechanically and without interest, Hamilton went forwardand seated himself in the first of these rows. The tom-toms hadceased: there was quiet, an interval of rest presumably for thedancers. It was far cooler than outside, and Hamilton breathed asigh of relief as he sank into his seat. The dimness of the light, the quiet, the coolness all pleased him: he had not known till hesat down how tired he was. He might have sat there a quarter of anhour, his mind in that state of hopeless blank that supervenes onovermuch unsatisfactory thinking, when suddenly the tom-tomsstarted up again with a terrific rattle, and the scarlet curtainwas somewhat spasmodically jerked up, displaying a semicircle ofgirls seated on European chairs facing the tin lamps. Two of theseven were African girls, with the woolly hair and jet black skinof their race; they were seated one at each end of the semicircle, dressed in short scarlet skirts, standing out from their waist inEnglish ballet-girl fashion, the upper part of their bodies bare, except for the masses of coloured glass necklaces covering theirbreast from throat to waist. The next pair of girls seemed torepresent Spanish dancers, and were in ankle-long black and yellowdresses, little yellow caps with bells depending from them sat inamongst their masses of black hair, and they held languidly totheir sides their tambourines and castenets. Next on the chairs sattwo strictly Eastern dancers in transparent pale green gauzyclothing held into waist and each ankle by jeweled bands. Theirpale ivory bodies shone through the filmy green muslin as the moonshines clearly in green water, and the jewels blazed like starswith red and blue fires at each movement of their limbs. Theirheads were crowned simply with white clematis, and the glory oftheir straight-featured Circassian faces, together with theunrivalled contours of softly moulded throat and breast and perfectlimbs, veiled only so much as a light mist may veil, would havetaken the breath away of the most inveterate frequenter of theAlhambra and Empire in dull old England. Hamilton drew in hisbreath with a little start as he first saw the semicircle, but itwas not on the Circassians that his eyes were fixed, but on thevery centre figure of that beautiful half-moon. Set in the centre, she seemed to be considered the pearl amongst them, as indeed shewas. The mist that enveloped her was not pale green as the veils ofthe other two, but white, and the beautiful perfect form that itenclosed was of a warmer, brighter tint than theirs. 

The white films of the drapery fell from the base of her throat, leaving her arms quite bare, but softly clinging to breast andflanks, till a gold band resting on her hips confined it closely, and depressed in the centre, was fastened by a single enormousruby, the one spot of blood-red colour upon her. Beneath thesloping belt of gold fell her loose Turkish trousers of gleamingwhite, transparent tissue, clasped at the ankles by bands of gold. On her feet were little Turkish slippers, on her brow--nothing, butthe crown of her radiant youth and beauty. Hamilton, gazing at itacross the footlights, thought he had never seen, either picturedor in the flesh, a face so beautiful, so full of the beauty, thegoodness, the power and wonder of life. 

The sight thrilled him. Like the power of electricity, its powerbegan to run along his veins, heating them, stirring them, callingupon nerve and muscle and sense to wake up. He looked, and lifeitself seemed to stream into him through his eyes. The girl's facewas a well-rounded oval, supported on the round, perfect column ofher throat; the eyes seemed pools of blackness that had caught allthe splendour and the radiance of a thousand Eastern nights. Thefires of many stars, the whole brilliance of the purple nights ofAsia were mirrored in them. Above them rose the dark, arching spanof the eyebrows on the soft warm-tinted forehead, cut in one lineof severest beauty with the delicate nose. Beneath, the curlinglips were like the flowers of the pomegranate, a living, vividscarlet, and the rounded chin had the contour and bloom of thenectarine. 

She smiled faintly as she met the fixed gaze of Hamilton's eyesacross the footlights--such an innocent, merry little smile itseemed, not the mechanical contortions one buys with pieces ofsilver. Hamilton's blood seemed to catch light at it and flame allover his body. He sat upright in his seat: gone were his fatigue, his thirst, his eye-ache. His frame felt no more discomfort: hiswhole soul rushed to his eyes, and sat there watching. In some mentheir physical constitution is so closely knitted to the mental, that the slightest shock to either instantly vibrates through theother and works its effect equally on both. Hamilton was of thisorder, and his body responded, instantly now, to the joy andinterest born suddenly in his mind. 

A moment after the curtain was rolled up, a huge negro, dressed ina fancy dress of scarlet, and with a high cap of the same colour onhis head, came on from the side. In his hand he carried a smalldog-whip, and as he cracked it all the girls stood up. Hamiltonsickened as he looked at him: an indefinable feeling of horror cameover him as this man stalked about the stage. He pointed with hiswhip to the two African girls at the end of the semicircle, andthey came forward, while the rest sat down. A horrid uneasy feelingof discomfort grew up in Hamilton, similar to that which a lover ofanimals feels, when called upon to witness performing dogs, and allthe fear and anxiety pent up in their fast-beating little hearts iscommunicated to himself. He watched the girls' faces keenly as thenegro went round and placed himself behind the middle chair of thesemicircle, while the two Africans danced. Hamilton hardly noticedtheir dance, a curious barbaric performance that would have beenalarming to the British matron, but was neither new nor interestingto Hamilton. He kept his eyes fixed on the white-clothed girl inthe centre, and the sinister figure behind her chair. She seemedcalm and indifferent, and when the negro put his hand on hershoulder looked up and listened to his words without fear orrepulsion. Hamilton, keenly alive, with every sense alert, sat inhis chair, a prey to the new and delightful feeling, not known foryears, of interest. 

Yes, he was interested, and the energetic sense of loathing forthe negro proved it. The music, loud and strident--an ordinaryItalian piano-organ having been introduced amongst the Orientalinstruments--banged on, and then abruptly came to a stop when thenegro cracked his whip. The two African women resumed their chairs, there was some applause, and a good many small coins fell on thestage from the hands of the audience. The second pair of girlsrose, came forward and commenced to dance, the organ playing someappropriate Spanish airs. After these, the two Indian girls whogave the usual _dance de ventre_ to a lively Italian air on theorgan. Then, at last, _she_ rose from her chair and approached thefootlights. The organ ceased playing, only the Indian musiccontinued: wild sensual music, imitating at intervals the cries ofpassion. 

To this accompaniment the girl danced. 

Had any British matrons been present we must hope they would havewalked out, yet, to the eye of the artist, there was nothing coarseor offending, simply a most beautiful harmony of motion. The girl'sbeauty, her grace and youth, and the slight lissomness of all herbody lent to the dance a poetry, a refinement it would not havepossessed with another exponent. 

Moreover, though there was a certain ardour in her looks andgestures, in the way she yielded her limbs and body to theinfluence of the music, yet there was also a gay innocence, abright naïve irresponsibility in it that contrasted strongly withthe sinister intention underlying all the movements of the othertwo Indian dancers. At the end of the dance Hamilton took a rupeefrom his pocket and threw it across the tin lamps towards her feet. She picked it up smiling, though she left the other coins whichfell on the stage untouched, and went back to her chair. 

After her dance, the great negro came forward and did a turn of hisown. Hamilton looked away. What was this man to the little circle?he wondered. He could not keep his mind off that one query? Werethey his slaves? willing or unwilling? did they constitute hisharem? or were they paid, independent workers? His mind was made upto get speech with this one girl, at least, that evening. Thisdelightful feeling of interest, this pleasure, even this keendisgust, all were so welcome to him in the dreary mental state ofindifference that had become his habit, that he welcomed themeagerly, and could not let them go. Beyond this there was risingwithin him, suddenly and overwhelmingly, the force of Life, indignant at the long repression it had been subjected to. Man maybe a civilized being, accustomed to the artificial restraints andlaws he has laid upon himself, but there remains within him stillthat primitive nature that knows nothing, and never will learnanything of those laws, and which leaps up suddenly after years ofits prison-life in overpowering revolt, and says, "Joy is mybirthright. I will have it!"

This moment is the crisis of most lives. It was with Hamilton now, and it seemed suddenly to him that twenty years of fidelity to anunloved, unloving woman was enough. The debt contracted at thealtar twenty years before had been paid off. The promise, givenunder a misunderstanding to one who had wilfully deceived him, waswiped out. It was a marvel to him in those moments how it had heldhim so long. 

Hamilton had one of those keen, brilliant minds that make theirdecisions quickly, and rarely regret them. He took his resolutionnow. That prisoner in revolt within him should be free; he wouldstrike off the fetters he had worn too long and vainly. He wasbefore the open book of Life, at that page where he had stood solong. With a firm decisive hand he would take the new page, andturn it over. That last page, on which his wife's name was writtenlarge, was completely done with, closed. 

The old joyous spirit, the keen eagerness for love and joy andlife, the Pagan's gay rejoicing in it, that had been such a markedfeature of his disposition before his marriage, came back to him, rushed through him, refilled him. 

His marriage, with its disillusionment, had crushed it out of himfor a time, and, with that same decisiveness that marked him now, he had turned over the pages of youthful dreams and joys and loves, and opened the next page of work, of strenuous endeavour, of ahard, rigid observance of fidelity to the vows he had taken. Andfor a time work and its rewards, effort and its returns, a hard, practical life in the world amongst men, had held him. That nowwas no longer to be all to him. 

His life, and such joy as it might hold for him, was to be his ownagain. The joy of the decisions filled him, elated him. He felt asif his mind had sudden wings, and could lift him with it to theroof. 

Such a decision, when it comes, seems to oneself, as it seemed toHamilton now, a sudden thing. It has the force and shock of arevelation, but it is not really sudden. The great rebellion nearlyall natures--certainly some, and these usually the greatest andbest--feel at the absence of joy in their lives had been graduallygrowing within him, gathering a little strength each day. It isonly the climax of such feelings that is sudden--the awakening ofthe mind to their presence. The growth has been going on day byday, week by week, unmeasured, unreckoned with. 

Immediately the curtain fell, Hamilton left his seat and wentup to a door, reached by a few steps, on the level of thefootlights, and at the left side of them. No one hindered him. The rest of the audience were going out. He pushed the door, which yielded readily, and he passed through. A narrow, white-washed, lath-and-plaster passage opened before him, at theend of which he saw a tin lamp burning against the wall and heardvoices. 

The passage led into a three-cornered room, where he found some ofthe dancers and an old woman who was huddled up on a straw mat inthe corner. The negro was not there. The girls stood about idly;some were changing their clothes. They did not seem to heed hispresence, except the one he was seeking, who came straight towardshim. As she moved across the dirty, littered room, her limbs undertheir transparent covering moved, and her head was carried with theair of an empress. "Will the Sahib come with me?" she said in alow, soft tone. She raised her eyes to his face. They were wide, enquiring, like the deer's brought face to face with the hunter inthe green thickets. 

The other girls glanced towards him, and some smiles wereexchanged, but no one approached him. They seemed to understand hewas there only for the star of the troupe. Hamilton looked downinto those glorious midnight eyes fixed upon him, and a faintcolour came into his cheek. 

"I will come wherever you lead, " he answered in Hindustani. Thesesurroundings were horrible, but the shade of them did not seem todim her charm. 

The scent in the air was disagreeable. Tawdry spangles and falsejewels lay about on the tumble-down settees. From behind littledoors that opened from the walls round came the sound of men'svoices. 

"Let the Sahib come this way, then, " she answered, and turnedtowards one of the small doors in the wall. This took them intoanother tiny, musty-smelling passage that wound about like the runof a rabbit warren, only wide enough for one to pass along at atime, and the strips of lath were so low overhead that Hamiltonbent his neck involuntarily to avoid them. 

At a door in the side of this she stopped and pushed it open; thelittle run way wound on beyond in the darkness. 

Hamilton followed her into the sloping-roofed, lath-and-plasterpent-house that had been run up between the back of the stage andthe wall of the building. Native lamps were hooked into the wall, and their light showed the garish ugliness of it all--the hastilywhitewashed walls, the scraps of ragged, dirty, scarlet cloth hunghere and there over a bulge or stain in the plaster: the boardedfloor, uneven and cracked: the bed against the wall, not too cleanlooking, its dingy curtains not quite concealing the dingierpillows; the broken chair on which a basin stood, placed on twogrey-looking towels; another chair with the back rails knocked outleaning against the wall. 

He threw his gaze round it in a moment's rapid survey, then hepressed to the rickety, uneven door and shot the bolt. 

The girl stood in the middle of the room, an exquisitely lovelyfigure. She regarded him with wide, innocent eyes. Hamilton feltall the blood alight in his veins; it seemed to him he could hearhis pulses beating. Never in his life before had joy and passionmet within him to stir him as they did now, but in natures wherethere is a strong, deep strain of intellectuality the body neverquite conquers the mind, the light of the intellect never quitegoes down, however strong the sea, however high the waves ofanimal passion on which it rides; and now Hamilton felt the greatappeal to his brain as well as to his senses that the girl's beautymade. 

He went up to her. She looked at him with an intense admiration, almost worship in her eyes. A man at such moments looks, as Natureintended he should, his very best, and Hamilton's face, of a nobleand splendid type, lighted now by the keenest animation, held hergaze. 

"Tell me, " he said in a low tone, for footsteps passed on thecreaking boards, and gibbering voices and laughter could be heardoutside, "tell me, what is that man to you? Do you belong to him, all of you?"

"That... ? He is not a man, he is a ... Nothing, " replied the girl, looking up with calm, glorious eyes. "He can do no harm ... Norgood. "

Hamilton drew a quick breath. 

"You dance like this every evening, and then choose someone in theaudience in this way?" he questioned, slipping his hand round herneck and looking down at her, a half-amused sadness coming into hiseyes. 

The girl shook her head with a quick negation. 

"No, I have only been here a few days--a week, I think. Did younotice that old woman as we came through here? I belong to her; shetaught me to dance. She brought me here, and I dance for theNothing, but I have never taken any one like this before. The othergirls do, every night, but each night the Nothing said to me, 'Noone here to-night, good enough. Wait till an English Sahib comes. '"

Hamilton listened with a paling cheek; his breath came and wentfaintly; he hardly seemed to draw it; he put his next question verygently, watching her open brow and proud, fearless eyes. 

"Do you know nothing of men at all, then?"

"Nothing, Sahib, nothing, " she answered, falling on her kneessuddenly at his feet, and raising her hands towards him. "This willbe my bridal night with the Sahib. The Nothing told me to pleaseyou, to do all you told me. What shall I do? how shall I pleaseyou?"

Hamilton looked down upon her: his brain seemed whirling; thepulses along his veins beat heavily; new worlds, new vistas of lifeseemed opening before him as he looked at her, so beautiful in herfirst youth, in her unclouded innocence, full, it is true, ofOriental passion, with a certain Oriental absence of shame, butuntouched, able to be his, and his only. 

Before he could speak again, or collect his thoughts that thegirl's words had scattered, her soft voice went on:

"Surely the Sahib is a god, not a man. I have seen the men acrossthe footlights: there were none like the Sahib. I said to mymother, 'I do not like men, I do not want them; what shall I do?'And my mother said, 'There is no hurry, my child; we will wait tilla rich Sahib comes. ' But you are not a man, you must be a god, youare so beautiful; and I am the slave of the Sahib, for ever andever. "

She looked up at him, great lights seemed to have been lighted inthe midnight pools of her eyes, the curved lips parted a little, showing the perfect, even teeth; the rounded, warm-hued cheeksglowed; the lids of her eyes lifted as those of a person lookingout into a new world. 

Hamilton stood looking at her, and two great seas of conflictingemotions swept into his brain, and under their tumult he remainedirresolute. Mere instincts and nature, the common impulse of themale to take his pleasure whenever offered, prompted him to drawher to his breast and let her learn the great joy of life in hisarms; but some higher feeling held him back: the knowledge that thefirst way in which a woman learns these things colours her wholeafter estimation of them, restrained him. 

Here he saw, suddenly, there was new ground for Love to buildhimself a habitation upon. Should it be but a rude shanty, looselyconstructed of Desire? Was it not rather such a fair and lovelysite that it was worthy a perfect temple, built and finished withdelicate care?

This flower of wonderful bloom he had found by chance in such apoor, rough garden, was it not better to carry it gently to somesheltered spot, to transplant and keep it for his own, rather thanjust tear at it with a careless touch in passing by?

Hamilton had the brain of the artist and the poet; things touchedhim less by their reality than by that strange halo imaginationthrows round them. 

The sound of some shuffling steps in the passage outside, a lurchas of some drunken and unsteady figure, some whispered words, andthen a burst of ribald laughter just outside the door, decided him. No: her wedding night should not be here. Keen in his sympathy withwomen, Hamilton knew how often that night recurs to a woman'sthoughts, and should its memories always bring back to her thisloathsome shed, these hideous sounds?

A repulsion so great filled him that it swept back his desire forthe moment. A great eagerness to get her away unharmed, unsoiledfrom such a place, filled him. Already she seemed to be part ofhimself, to be a possession he must guard. His heart was empty andhungry: by means of her beauty and this strange unexpectedinnocence she had so suddenly revealed to him, she had leapt intoit, made it her own. He sat down on the mean, dingy bed, and drewher warm, supple body into his arms: she stood within their circlesubmissively, quivering with pleasure. His touch was very gentleand reverent, for he was a man who knew the value of essentials;his brain was keen enough to go down to them and judge of them, undeterred and unhindered and undeceived by externals, byfictitious emblems. He saw here that he was in the presence of atender, youthful, unformed mind of complete innocence, and theabhorrent surroundings affected that essential not at all. 

A married woman in his own rank, with her dozen lovers and herknowledge of evil, high in the favour of the world, could neverhave had from him the same reverence that he gave to thisdancing-girl of the Deccan, who in the world's eyes was but acreature put under his feet for him to trample on. 

"Would you like to leave all these people and come to live onlywith me? dance only for me?" he said softly, looking into thosegreat wondering eyes fixed in awe upon his face. 

"Would you like to have a house to yourself, and a garden full offlowers, and stay there with me alone?"

The girl clasped her hands joyously, smile after smile rippledover the brilliant face. 

"Oh, Sahib, it would be paradise! If I can stay with the Sahib, Ishall be happy anywhere. I am the slave of the Sahib. If he but useme as the mat before his door to walk upon, I shall be content. "

Hamilton shivered. He drew her a little closer. "Hush! I do notlike to hear you say those things. You shall come to me and sleepin my arms, but not to-night. Love is a very great thing: it willbe a great thing with us, and it must not be thought of lightly, doyou see? Will you stay here and think of me only till I come again?Think of your bridal night with me, dream of me till I come backfor you?"

"The Sahib's will is my law; but even if I wished, I could think ofnothing else but him till I see him again, " she responded, her eyesfixed upon his face. Hamilton gazed upon her. She made such alovely picture standing there: he thought he had never seen beautyso perfect, so exquisitely fresh. The soft transparent tunic didnot conceal it, only lightly veiled its bloom. Her breasts, roundedand firm, stood out as a statue's. They seemed to express thevigour of her buoyant youth: they had never known artificialsupport, and needed none. The waist was naturally slight, the hipsalso, the straight supple limbs and round arms were the mostrichly-modelled parts, perhaps, of the whole perfect form. 

Hamilton slipped his arm down to her yielding waist and drew hercloser. Then he bent his head and kissed the wonderfully-carved andglowing mouth. With a little cry of joy the girl threw both armsabout his neck and kissed him back with a wealth of fervour in herlips, pressing her soft bosom against his in all the natural, unrestrained ardour of a first and new-found love. 

"Sahib, Sahib! do not leave me long. Come and take me away soon! Iam all yours! No other shall see me till you come again. "

Hamilton was satisfied. He raised his head, his whole ardent natureaflame. 

"Dear little girl, let us go then to the old woman, and perhaps Ican pay her enough to make her take you away from here, and keepyou safe till I can come for you. "

"Come, Sahib, come!" she answered, joyfully drawing out of hisarms and running across the room; she unbolted the door and pulledit open, nearly causing the old woman who was crouched justoutside, and apparently leaning against it, to roll into the room. 

"Saidie, Saidie! you have no respect for me, " she grumbled, gettingon her feet with some difficulty. Hamilton came up, and helped tobalance her as she stood. 

"Your Saidie pleases me very much, " he said, drawing out apocket-book. "I want to take her away from here altogether. Howmuch do you ask for her?"

The old woman's beady-black eyes twinkled and gleamed, and fixed onthe pocket-book. 

"It is not possible, Sahib, " she said in a grumbling tone, "for meto part with her and her services. A girl like that with herbeauty, her dancing, her singing! She will earn gold every night. Let the Sahib come here each evening if he will and take his turnwith the rest. For a girl like that to go to one man alone is wasteand folly. "

The colour mounted to Hamilton's face. His brows contracted. 

"What I have to say is this, " he answered sternly and briefly, "Iwant this girl, and if you take her with you to some place ofsafety for to-night, I will come to-morrow or the next day and giveyou 2000 rupees for her--no more and no less. I have spoken. "

"Two thousand rupees!" replied shrilly the old woman, "for Saidie, the star of the dancers, and not yet fifteen! No, Sahib, no! aParsee will give more than that for a half hour with her. "

Hamilton caught the old creature by her skinny arm:

"You waste your words talking to me, " he said. "I am a policemagistrate, and I can have your whole place here closed, and all ofyou put in prison, if I choose. The girl is willing to come withme, and I will take her and pay you well for her. You have herready for me to-morrow night, or you go to prison--which youplease. " The old woman shivered at the word magistrate, and felltrembling on her knees. 

"Let the Sahib have mercy! That great black brute will kill me ifthe police come here. I take Saidie to my house, the Sahib comesthere when he will. He pays, he has her. It is all finished. "

She spread out her thin black hands in a shaking gesture offinality, and then fell forward and kissed Hamilton's boots afterthe complimentary but embarrassing manner of natives. Hamilton drewback a little. He was angered that Saidie should be witness, auditor of all this. She stood silent, passive, gazing at the hot, angry colour mounting to his face. He bent forward and dragged theold woman up by her arms. 

"Take this for yourself now, " he said, putting a hundred-rupee noteinto her hand, "and make no more difficulty. Take every care ofSaidie, and you will have your two thousand rupees very shortly. "

The old woman seized the note, and began to mumble blessings onHamilton, which he cut short: "Give me the name of your street andthe house where you live, that I may find you easily, " he said, andnoted down the directions she gave him. Then he turned to the girland put his arm round her neck. 

"Dear Saidie! I trust to you. Remember it is your innocence, yourvirtue, I love more than your beauty. Do not dance nor let anyonesee you till I come again. "

He kissed her on the lips as she promised him. The soft, warm formthrilled against him as their lips met. Then with a mental wrenchhe turned and went out of the room and quickly down the darkpassage. 

At the end his way was barred by the immense form of the negro. 

"Something for me, master; do not forget me! I keep the prettythings here for the gentlemen to see. "

Hamilton drew back with loathing. Then he reflected--it was better, perhaps, to keep all smooth. 

He dived into his pockets and found a roll of small notes, which hepushed into the negro's hand. The man bowed and let him pass, andHamilton went on out into the street. 

It was evening now. The calm, lovely golden light of an Indianevening fell all around him as he walked rapidly back to hisbungalow. As he entered it, how different he felt from the man whohad left it that morning! How light his footstep, how bright andkeen the tone of his voice! It quite surprised himself as he calledout to his butler that he was ready for dinner. Then he bounded upto his room humming. His very muscles were of quite a differenttexture seemingly now from an hour or two ago! How the blood flewabout joyously in his body! Dear Venus! she makes us pay generally, but who can cavil at the glorious gifts she gives? As soon as hisdinner was disposed of, and all his other servants had retired fromthe room, Hamilton called his butler, Pir Bakhs, to him, and held along conference with that intelligent and trustworthy individual. Hamilton was one of those men that by reason of his strikingly goodlooks, his charm of manner, his consideration for others, and hiscomplete control over himself that never allowed him to be betrayedinto an unjust word or action was greatly liked by every one, andsimply worshipped by his servants and all those in any way in aposition dependent on him. 

When to-night Pir Bakhs was honoured by his confidence, theservant's whole will and all his keen energies rose with delightto serve his master. After he had listened in silence toHamilton's wishes, he proceeded to make himself master of the wholescheme, detail by detail. 

"The Sahib wishes a very beautiful bungalow far out, away from thecity? I know of one house across the desert; my cousin was butlerthere. The Sahib went away to England, and the bungalow is to belet furnished. Have I the Sahib's permission to go down to bazaar, see my cousin to-night? I make all arrangements. I go to-morrowmorning; I get cook and all other servants. I stay there and makeall ready for the Sahib to-morrow evening. "

Hamilton smiled at the man's eagerness to serve him. He knew wellthat secretly in his heart his Mahommedan butler had alwaysdeplored the severely monastic style in which he had lived, theabsence of women in his master's bungalow, the emptiness of hisarms that should have had to bear his master's children, and thathe now was ready to welcome heartily his master's reformation. 

"Could you really do all that, Pir Bakhs?" he asked; "and can youassure me that the house is a good one, and has the compound beenwell kept up?"

"The house is about the same as this, but not quite so large. It isin the oasis of Deira, across the desert. The Sahib knows how wellthe palms grow there. My cousin tells me the compound is verylarge; the Sahib there kept four malis;[1] very fine garden, manyEnglish roses there. "

[Footnote 1: Gardeners. ]

"English roses I do not care for, Pir Bakhs, " returned Hamiltonwith a melancholy smile. "The roses of the East are far fairer tome. "

The butler bowed with his hand to his forehead. He took hismaster's speech as a gracious compliment to his country. 

"Everything grow there, " he answered, spreading out his hands:"pomegranates, bamboo, mangoes, bananas, sago palm, cocoanut palm, magnolia--everything. I go to-morrow, I engage malis; I have allready for the Sahib. "

"Very well, I trust you with it all. I shall keep on this housejust as it is, and leave most of the servants here. You and yourwives must come out with me, and you engage any other necessaryservants and hire any extra furniture you want. "

"The Sahib is very good to his servant, " returned the butler, hisface lighting up joyfully. "When will the Sahib shed the light ofhis countenance on the bungalow?"

"I will try to run out to see it, to-morrow, after office hours, "replied Hamilton, "if you will have all ready by then. I shall lookover it, and return to dine here as usual. Then about ten or later, I will come over and bring your new mistress out with me. You musthave a good supper waiting for us. Take over all the linen andplate you may want, but see that enough is left in this house sothat I can entertain the English Sahibs here if I want to, and letmy riding camel be well fed early. I shall use him for coming andgoing. That's all, I think. "

The butler bowed, and retired radiant with joyous importance, andHamilton sat on alone by the table thinking. The blood ran at hightide along his veins, his eyes glowed, looking into space. Life, hethought, what a joyous thing it was when it stretched out its handsfull of gifts!

CHAPTER II

The following afternoon, directly his work at the office wasfinished, he went out to the oasis in the desert to look at his newpossession, his bungalow in the palms. 

The moment he saw it peeping out from amongst them, and surroundedby roses, he expressed himself satisfied, and named the placeSaied-i-stan, or the place of happiness. 

The butler met him there; he was bursting with self-importance. 

"You leave everything to me, Sahib--everything. I know all theSahib wants. He shall have all. Let him come, ten o'clock, nineo'clock, no matter when; all quite ready. I am here. I haveeverything waiting for the Sahib. "

Hamilton smiled and praised him, and went back to the station; tooka pretence of dinner and a hurried cup of coffee, and then wentdown into the bazaar with the precious bit of paper containing thedirections to Saidie's dwelling-place in his breast pocket. 

He found the house at last, and, going in at the doorlessentrance, climbed patiently the wooden stairs that ran straight upfrom it in complete darkness. On the topmost landing--a frailwooden structure that creaked beneath his feet--he paused, andrapped twice on the door opposite him. 

His heart beat rapidly as he stood there; the blood seemed flyingthrough it. All the strength of his vigorous body seemed gatheringitself together within him, all the fire of his keen, hungry brainleapt up, and waiting there in the dark on the narrow landing heknew the joy of life. 

The door was opened. In a moment his eye swept round the interiorof the high windowless room. The floor was bare, with mats here andthere, and in the centre stood a flat pan of charcoal, glowingunder a closed and steaming cooking-pot. At one end a coarse chick, suspended from a wooden bar, dropped its long lines to the floor, and behind this, on some cushions, sat Saidie with another of thedancing-girls. 

The old woman who had opened the door, salaamed, touching the floorwith her forehead as Hamilton walked in, and then securely shut andfastened the door behind him. Saidie rose and looked through theshimmering lines of the chick at him as he entered. 

Very handsome the tall commanding figure looked in the mean, bareroom: the long neck and well-modelled head, with its black, close-cut hair, stood out a noble relief against the colourlesswall, and the clear brown skin, with the warm tint of quick bloodin it that showed above the English collar, arrested the girl'seyes with a keen thrill of joy. Looking at him, she felt rushingthrough her the passionate delight that self-surrender to such aman would be. Without waiting to be summoned, she parted the linesof the chick, came out from them, and fell on her knees at hisfeet. 

The heat in the shut-up room was very great, and she was wearingonly a straight white muslin tunic, through which all the softbeauty of her form could be seen, as an English face is seenthrough a veil. Her hair was looped back from her brows and tiedsimply with a piece of green ribbon, as an English girl's mighthave been, and flowed in its thick, black glossy waves to herwaist. 

Hamilton bent over her and raised her in his arms, feeling in thatmoment, though the whole universe were reeling and rocking roundhim to its ruin, he would care nothing while he pressed that softbreast to his. 

The old woman sat down cross-legged by the charcoal, and began tofan it. 

The other girl behind the chick looked out curiously, but her eyesnever noted the strength and beauty of Hamilton's figure, nor thebright glow in the oval cheek: she looked to see if he wore ringson his fingers, and tried to catch sight of the links in his cuffsto see if they were silver or gold. 

Saidie had the divine gift of passion: all the fire of the gods inher veins. Zenobie had none, and Saidie's joy now was something shecould not understand. 

"Have you come to take me away, now at once?" Saidie murmured in asoft, passionate whisper close to his ear, and the accent of joyand delight went quivering down through the deepest recesses of theman's being. 

"Yes: are you ready to come with me?" Needless question! put onlyfor the supreme pleasure of listening to its answer. 

"Oh, more than ready, " whispered the soft voice back. "How shallthe slave explain her longing to her lord?"

Zenobie had come round the chick, while they stood by the door, anddrawn forward the one little low wooden stool that they possessed. She came up now, and pulled at Saidie's sleeve. 

"Let the Sahib be seated, " she said reprovingly, and Saidie let herarms slip from his neck and drew him forward to the stool by thecharcoal pan. 

With some difficulty Hamilton drew up his long legs and seatedhimself cautiously on the small seat; Saidie and Zenobie satcross-legged on the ground close to his feet. The old woman ceasedto fan the fire; the bright red glow of the coals fell softly onthe strong, noble beauty of the man's face, and Saidie, looking upto it, sat speechless, her bosom heaving, her lips parted, her darkeyes full of mysterious fires, melting, swimming, behind their veilof lashes. 

Zenobie watched her with curiosity: what did she feel for thisinfidel who wore no rings and only silver in his cuffs?

Hamilton, as soon as he was seated, drew out his pocket-book--oldand worn, for he spent little on himself--and opened it. 

The old woman sat up. Zenobie's eyes gleamed: the business wasgoing to commence. Only Saidie did not stir nor move her eyes fromhis face. 

"Two thousand rupees was the price agreed upon; here it is, " hesaid, taking out a thick bundle of notes that occupied the wholeinside of the poor, limp pocket-book; and as the old womanstretched out a skinny claw for them and began to slowly countthem, he turned his gaze away, on to the upturned face of the girlwatching him with sensual adoration. 

The old woman counted through the notes, and then securely tiedthem into the end of her chudda. 

"The sum is the due sum, well counted, " she said, looking up; "andwhen will my lord take his slave?"

"To-night, " Hamilton replied briefly, but not without a swiftenquiring glance into the girl's eyes. Though he had bought andpaid for her, he could not get out of the Western knack ofconsidering that the girl's desires had to be consulted. 

The old woman raised her hands in affected horror. 

"To-night! But she is not well clothed, she is not bathed andanointed; the bridal robes are not prepared. My lord, it cannotbe!"

Hamilton looked at Saidie; she crept to his side and put her headon his breast. 

"Yes, to-night, take me to-night, " she murmured eagerly; he smiled, and put his arm around her. 

"The bridal clothes are of no consequence, " he answered decisively. "My camel waits below. I will take her to-night. "

"She has no shoes, " objected the old woman. "She cannot descend thestairs. "

"I will carry her down, " replied Hamilton, and, springing up fromthe little stool, he stooped over the lovely form at his feet, raising her into his arms, close to his breast. Saidie clung to hisneck with a little cry of pleasure, her bare, warm-tinted feet hungover his arm. 

The old woman gasped: Zenobie laughed. The Englishman looked sobig, so immensely strong. The weight of Saidie, tall andwell-developed as she was, seemed as nothing to him. 

"Zenobie, will you hold the lamp at the doorway, that he may seehis way?" Saidie cried out, slipping off a thin gold circlet shewore on her arm, and letting it drop into the other's hands. 

"Farewell, Zenobie; may you be always as happy as I am now. "

Zenobie caught the bracelet and ran to the wall, unhooked the lampthat hung there, and came to the door. 

"Farewell, my mother, " Saidie said, as they turned to it. 

"Farewell, my daughter; be submissive to the Sahib, and obey him inall things. "

The door was opened, and by the dim, uncertain light of Zenobie'slamp, Hamilton, clasping his warm, living burden, went slowly andheavily down the bending stairs, feeling the life brimming in everyvein. 

Outside, in the tranquil splendour of the starry Eastern night, knelt the camel, peacefully awaiting its lord, and as Hamiltonapproached it with his burden, it turned its head and large, liquideyes upon him with a gurgle of pleasure. 

"The camel loves Hamilton Sahib, " murmured the girl, as he set heron the soft red cloth laid over the animal's back, which formed theonly saddle. He took his own place in front of her. 

"Hold to my belt firmly, " he told her, gathering into his hand thelight rein. "Are you ready for him to rise?"

He felt her little, soft hands glide in between his belt and waist. 

"Yes, I am quite ready, " she answered, and at a word ofencouragement, the great beast rose with its slow, stately swing toits feet, and Hamilton guided it towards the Meidan. The soft, hotair stirred against their faces as they moved through the night. 

Nothing could present a more lovely picture than the bungalow thatevening. A low, white house, looking in the moonlight as if builtof marble, surrounded by masses of palms which threw a delicatetracery of shadow upon it and drooped their beautiful, fan-like, feathery branches over it, between it and the jewelled sky. 

A light verandah ran around the lower of the two stories, completely covered by the white, star-like bloom of the jessaminethat poured forth floods of fragrance like incense on the hot, still air, and a giant pink magnolia rioted over the wide porch oflattice-work. Within it was brightly lighted, and a warm glow fromshaded lamps came out from each window, stealing softly through theveil of scented jessamine and falling on the masses of pink rosessurrounding the house. 

The deep peace, the sweet scent in the silence, the kiss of themoonlight and the starlight on the sleeping flowers, the exquisiteform of the shadows on the white wall, filled Hamilton withpleasure: each sense seemed subtly ministered to; he felt as ifinvisible spirits round him were feeding him with ambrosia. 

He turned round to Saidie as the camel slowly and majesticallyentered the compound gate, and saw her clearly framed in the softsilver light; all this wondrous beauty round them seemed to be toher beauty but as the harmonies that in an opera float round thecentral air. And she smiled as he turned upon her. 

"How do you like your new house, Saidie?" he said, half laughing ashe leant back to her. 

"Surely it is Paradise, Sahib, " she murmured back in awestrucktones. 

Within the door waited the servants to welcome them in a doubleline, and as Saidie entered, they fell flat with their faces on thefloor. She passed through the prostrate row saluting them, and onto the foot of the stairs. The ayah that the butler had engagedrose and followed her mistress upstairs, where she was ushered intoher bath and dressing-room; while the butler, swelling withimportance and joyous pride, led Hamilton to the large room he hadprepared as a bedroom on the first floor. As they went in Hamiltongave a murmur of approval very dear to the man's heart, as he heardit, standing respectfully by the door. 

The room was large, and two windows, draped with curtains, stoodopen to the soft night. 

The bed in the centre of the room was one of the wide Indiancharpais which are unrivalled for comfort, and glimmered softlywhite beneath its filmy mosquito curtains in the lamplight shed byfour handsome rose-shaded lamps. Small tables stood everywhere, bearing vases of fresh flowers, roses, and stephanotis; a rich, deep rose-coloured carpet spread all over the floor, with only asmall border of chetai visible round the walls; and two easy-chairsof the same colour and numerous smaller ones piled up with cushionscompleted the equipment of the room. The air was full of scent, andthe scheme of colour in the room perfect. Nothing but rose andwhite was allowed to meet the eye. The flowers were selected withthis view, and the great bowls of roses all blushed the sameglorious tint through the snowy whiteness of the stephanotis. 

The room suggested, in its softly-lighted glow of pink and white, abridal chamber. 

Hamilton turned to his servant with a pleased smile on hishandsome, animated face. 

"You are an artist, Pir Bakhs, and a sort of magician, to do allthis in twelve hours. "

Pir Bakhs bowed and salaamed by the door, his well-formed polishedface wreathed in many smiles. 

Downstairs the girl was already waiting for her lord, bathed, andwith her long hair shaken out and brushed after the dust of thedesert ride, and looped back from her forehead by a fresh greenribbon. She did not sit down, but stood waiting. 

This room showed the same care as the upper one, and the table waslaid out with Hamilton's plate and glass and four beautifulepergnes held the flowers. 

Natives are artists, particularly in colour arrangements; the wholecolour scheme here was white and green, and any table in Belgraviawould have had hard work to equal this one. Saidie stood looking atit, and the servants, already ranged by the sideboard, stood withtheir eyes on the ground, yet conscious of her wonderful beauty, and pleased by it in the same way that they would have felt prideand pleasure in the beauty and good condition of a new horse orcamel acquired by their master. 

After a few minutes Hamilton came down. He had put on his eveningclothes as they had been laid out for him by the bearer, andlooked radiant as he entered. 

Saidie gave a little cry as she saw him. His present dress, wellcut and close-fitting, showed his splendid figure to greateradvantage than the loose suit she had seen him in hitherto. Hislong neck carried his fine, spirited head erect, and the masses ofthick, black hair, with just the least wave in it, shone in thelamplight. His well-cut face, with its gay animation and charming, debonair, unaffected expression, made a kingly and perfect pictureto the girl's dazzled eyes. 

As they took their places and their soup was served, she could notdetach her gaze from his face. 

He laughed as he looked at her. 

"Come, you must be hungry. Take your soup while it's hot; don'twaste your time looking at me. "

"Sahib, I cannot help looking at you. You are so wonderful to me!Please give me leave to. I do not want any soup. "

Hamilton, who by this time had finished his own, leant back in hischair and laughed again, looking at her with eyes blazing withmirth and passion. This innocent, genuine admiration was verypleasing to him in its flattery; this worship offered to himself, rather than his gifts, was something new to him, and the girl'sbeauty sent all the fires of life in quick streams through hisframe as he looked on it. He was alive for the first time in hisexistence, and filled with a surprised happiness as great as thegirl's. He was as virgin to joy as she was to love. "You are thedearest little girl I ever knew, " he said; "but if you won't takesoup, you must eat fish. Yes, I positively refuse you my permissionto look at me till you have finished that whole plate. "

Saidie dropped her eyes to her fish very submissively at this, while Hamilton himself filled her glass. 

"Have you ever tasted wine?" he asked. "This is champagne; drinkit, and tell me what you think of it. "

"All my people are Mahommedans; we do not drink wine, " Saidiereplied, taking up the glass and sipping from it. 

"Perhaps you won't like it, " he suggested, watching her. 

"If the Sahib gives it to me I shall like it, " replied Saidie, smiling at him over the delicate golden glass: it threw its lightupwards into her great gleaming eyes, and Hamilton kissed thelittle hand that put the glass gently down on the table again. 

Next after the fish came game and joints, course after course, morefood in that one meal than Saidie was accustomed to see for manypeople for a week. Her own appetite was soon satisfied, and she satfor the most part gazing at Hamilton, with her hands tightly lockedtogether in her lap: such a nervous delight filled her, such astrange joy in knowing herself to be alive, to be possessed of abeautiful body that by reason of its beauty was worthy the caressesof a man like this; such a pure rapture animated every fibre, torealise that it was in her power to give pleasure to him. With suchfeelings as these no faintest hint of humiliation or degradationcould mingle. Saidie felt only that superb and joyous pride thatNature originally intended the female to have in her surrender tothe male. 

Her very breath seemed to flutter softly with joyous trepidationand excitement as it passed over her lips. That she was to be his, held in his arms, admitted to his embrace, seemed to her to be thecrown of her life, an honour given by special divine favour. 

So must Rhea Sylvia have felt praying before her Vestal altar whenMars first appeared to her startled eyes. 

And Hamilton, with his keen, sensitive temperament, saw into hermind clearly, and was fully aware of all this fervent adoration, this intense passionate worship springing within her; and animmense tenderness and reverence grew up within him, enclosing allhis passion as the crystal vessel encloses the crimson wine. 

That she would not in her present state have shrunk or flinchedfrom a knife, if only his hand held it while it wounded her, heknew quite well, and this wonderful voluntary self-sacrifice whichis the soul of all female passion appealed to him as a very holything. 

He knew that constantly this adoring love was poured out by womenfor men, that almost every virgin heart beats with this sameworship as the first pain of love enters it, but ah! for how shorta time! How quickly the man tears open those eyes that would sowillingly be closed to his vileness! how soon come the infidelity, the lies and the meanness, the trickery and the treachery! Howassiduously the man teaches the woman who loves him that there isnothing in him worthy of adoration, not even admiration, not evendecent respect! How little confidence, how little credence she soongives to his word that was once so sacred to her! How in her heart, though her lips say nothing, is that once rapturous worship changedinto a measureless contempt!

Men persistently teach women that they must not expect the bestfrom them, but the lowest. And the women cry in pain as they seethe white mantle of their love trampled upon and dragged in themire of lies and falseness, and they take it back from the basehands and burn it in the fires kindled in their outraged hearts. Something of this flashed through Hamilton's brain as he met theadoring trust and love in the girl's eyes, and an unspoken vowformed itself within him that he would not deceive and betray it, that his lips should not lie to her, that to the end he would be toher as she now saw him in the glamour of those first hours. 

When he had tempted her to every sweet and bon-bon on the table, and made her drink all the wine he thought good for her, he sentthe servants away, and they remained alone together in thedining-room with their coffee before them. He put his arm roundher, and drawing her out of her own chair, took her on to his kneesand pressed her head down on his shoulder. 

"Are you not tired with that long ride on the camel?" he asked. 

"No, Sahib, I am not tired. "

The soft weight of her body pressed upon him; her lids drooped overher eyes as her head leaned against his neck. 

"I think you are tired and very sleepy, " he repeated, pinching theglowing arm in its transparent muslin sleeve. 

"If the Sahib says so, I must be, " responded Saidie quite simply. 

"Come, then, and sleep, " he said in her ear, and they wentupstairs. 

Saidie gave a little cry of delight as they entered together therose-filled room, and beyond its soft shaded lights she saw thegreat flashing planets in the dark sky. 

"This is a different and a better home for love than we had lastnight, " said Hamilton softly, as he closed the door. 

A great peace reigned all round them. Within and without thebungalow there was no sound. The lights burned steadily andsubdued, the sweet scent of the flowers hung in the air like asilent benediction upon them. 

He put his arm round her, and felt her tremble excessively as hishand unfastened the clasp of her tunic. He stopped, surprised. 

"Why do you tremble so? Are you afraid of me?" he asked, lookingdown upon her, all the tenderness and strength of a great passionin his eyes. 

"No, no, " she returned passionately, "I tremble because great wavesof happiness rush over me at your touch. I cannot tell you what Ifeel, Sahib; the love and happiness within me is breaking me intofragments. "

"Then you must break in my arms, " he murmured back softly, drawingher into his embrace, "so that I shall not lose even one of them. "

 * * * * *

In the morning a flood of sunlight rushing into the room throughthe open windows, bringing with it the gay chatter of birds, rousedthe lovers. Hamilton opened his eyes first, and, lifting his headfrom the pillow, looked down upon Saidie still asleep beside him. In the rich mellow light of the room her loveliness glowed underhis eyes like a jewel held in the sun. He hardly drew his breath, looking down upon her. Her heavy hair, full of deep purplishshades, and with the wave in it not unusual in the Asiatic, waspushed off the pale, pure bronze of the forehead, on which weredrawn so perfectly the long-sweeping Oriental brows. The nose, delicately straight, with its proud high-arched nostrils, and thetiny upper lip, led the eye on to the finely-carved Eastern mouth, of which the lips now were softly, firmly folded in repose. Howexquisitely Nature had fashioned those lips, putting more elaboratework in those lines and curves of that one feature than in thewhole of an ordinary English face. Hamilton hung over her, filledwith a passion of tenderness, watching the gentle breath movesoftly the warm column of bronze throat and raise the soft, fullbreast. 

Passion, in its highest phase, is indeed the supreme gift of thegods. In giving it to a mortal for once they forget their envy: foronce they raise him to their level; for that once they grant himdivinity. 

Hamilton now marvelled at himself. The whole fruit of his fortyyears of life--all that accomplished work, success, wealth, rewarded worth, satisfied ambition, all the pleasures his youth, his health and strength, and powers had always brought him, crushedtogether--could not equal this: the charm and ecstasy with which hegazed down on this warm beauty of the flesh beside him. 

And yet he knew that it was not really in that flesh, not even inthat beauty, that lay the delight. It was in himself, in his ownintense desire, and the gratification of it, that the joy hadbirth; and if the gods give not this desire, no matter what elsethey give, it is useless. 

The girl might have been as lovely, Hamilton himself, and all thecircumstances the same, yet waking thus he might have been but theordinary poor, cold, clay-like mortal a man usually is. But thegreat desire for this beauty that had flamed up within him, now inits possession, gave him that fervour and fire, those wings to hissoul, that seemed to make him divine. It was for him one of thosemoments for which men live a life-time, as he indeed had done, butthey repay him when they come. To some, they come never. To theselife must indeed be dark. 

Suddenly the girl opened her eyes; the fire in his bent upon herseemed to electrify and thrill her into life, and with a littlemurmur of delight she stretched up her rounded arms to him. 

At breakfast Hamilton regretted he should have to leave her allday; what would she do?

"You must not think of it, Sahib, " she answered. "Have I not thegarden? I shall be quite happy. I shall sing all day long to theflowers about my lord, and count the minutes till he comes back. "

The office did not attract Hamilton at all that day, yet he felt itwas better to attend there as usual, to make no break in his usualroutine. 

Scandal there was sure to be, sooner or later, about hisdesert-bungalow, but at least it was better not to give to thescandal-mongers the power to say he had neglected his duties. Yethe lingered over his departure, and took her many times into hisarms to kiss her before he went, keeping his impatient Arab waitingat the door. He would not use the camel again this morning, butleft it resting in its corner of the compound beneath the palms. 

After Hamilton had gone, Saidie stepped through the long windowinto the verandah, full of green light, completely shaded as it wasby the giant convolvulus that spread all over it. The chetaicrushed softly under her feet, and she went on slowly to the endwhere it opened to the compound. Here she stood for a moment gazinginto the wilderness of beauty of mingled sun and shade before her. 

Against the dazzling blue of the sky the branches of the palmsstood out in gleaming gold, throwing their light shade over themasses of crimson and white and yellow roses that rioted togetherbeneath. Groves of the feathery bamboo drooped their delicatestems in the fervent, sweet-scented heat, over the white, thick-lipped lilies, from one to other of which passed languidlyon velvet wings great purple butterflies. 

The pomegranate trees made a fine parade of their small, exquisitescarlet flowers, and pushed them upwards into the sparklingsunlight through the veils of white starry blossoms of thejessamine that climbed over and trailed from every tree in thecompound. 

The girl went forward dreaming. How completely, superbly happy shewas! And she had nothing but the gifts of Nature, such as she, thekindly one, gives to the gay bird swinging on the bough, thebutterfly on the flower, the deer springing on the hills: healthand youth, beauty and love. 

These only were hers; nothing that man ordinarily strivesfor--neither wealth nor fame, fine houses, costly garments, jewels, slaves, power; none of these were hers. Over her body hung simply amuslin tunic worth a few annas; of the garden in which she stoodnot a flower belonged to her, no weight of jewels lay on her happyheart. She had no name; she was only a dancing-girl from theDeccan. With the animals she shared that wonderful kingdom of joythat they possess: their food and mate secured, their vigoroushealth bounding in their limbs, their beauty radiant in theirperfect bodies. 

Are they not the Lords of Creation in the sense that they are lordsof joy? Man is the slave of the earth, doomed by his own vile luststo bondage of the most dismal kind. All of those gifts that Naturegives, and from which alone can be drawn happiness, he tramplesbeneath his feet, putting his neck under the yoke of ceaselesstoil, striving for things which in the end bring neither peace norjoy. 

All within the compound under the reign of Nature rejoiced. Theparroquets swung on the trees, and the butterflies floated from themarble whiteness of the lily's cloisters to the deep, warm recessesof the rose, and the dancing-girl walked singing through thesparkling, scented air thinking of her lord. 

Hamilton, speeding down the dusty, burning road to his office inthe native city, felt a strange bounding of his heart as histhoughts clung to the low, white bungalow amongst the palmsoutside the station, and all that it held for him. 

He went through his work that day with a wonderful energy, born ofthe new life within him. Nothing fatigued, nothing worried him. Thecourt-house air did not oppress him. He heard the pleadings andmade his decisions with ease and promptitude. His patience, gentleness, his clearness and force of brain were wonderful. Thewhole electricity of his body was satisfied: the man was perfectlywell and perfectly happy. Who cannot work under such conditions? Inthe evening his horse was brought round, and with a wild leaping ofthe heart he swung himself into the saddle. The animal feltinstantly the elation of his master, and at once broke into acanter; as this was not checked, he threw up his lovely head, andas Hamilton turned across the plain, let himself go in a longgallop towards where the palms glowed living gold against therose-hued sky. 

Hamilton had hardly passed through the white chick into theinterior of the house before he heard the sound of bare feet uponthe matting, and through the soft magnolia-scented, pinky gloom ofthe room, shaded from the sunset light, Saidie came and fell at hisknees, taking his dusty hands and kissing them. 

Hamilton lifted her up, and held her a little from him, that hemight feast his eyes on the delicate beautiful carving of the lips, and on the great velvet eyes, soft, round throat, and breastsswelling so warmly lovely under the transparent gauze. 

Then he crushed her up in his arms close to his breast, and carriedher to their own room with the golden and green chicks all roundit, where the servants did not come without a summons. The garlandshe had twisted on her head smelt sweetly of roses, and the massesof her silky hair of sandal-wood; her soft lips, that knew so wellinstinctively the art of kissing, were on his; the warm, tenderarms clasped his neck. All the way that he carried her she murmuredlittle words of passion in his ear. 

After dinner the servants carried chairs for them into theverandah, with a small table laden with drinks and sweetmeats, thatthey might sit and watch the moon rising behind the palms in thecompound, and see the hot silver light pour slowly through theirexquisite branches and foliage. 

"How did you amuse yourself all day?" he asked her as she sat onhis knee, his arm round the flexible, supple waist pulsating underthe silky web of her tunic. 

"I was so happy. I had so much to do, so much to think of, " sheanswered, gazing back into his eyes bent upon her, and eagerlydrawing in their fire. "I wandered in the compound and made garlandafter garland, then I sang to my rabab and practised my dancing. Inthe heat I went in and slept on my lord's bed dreaming of him--ah!how I dreamt of him!" She broke off sighing, and those sighs fannedthe blazing fires in the man's veins. 

"You were quite contented, then, with your day?"

"How could I not be contented when I had my lord to think about, his love of last night, his love of the coming night?"

Hamilton sighed and smiled at the same time. 

"English wives need more than that to make them content, " heanswered. 

"English wives, " repeated Saidie, with her laugh like the sound ofa golden bell; "what do they know of love?"

"Not much certainly, I think, " replied Hamilton. 

For a moment the vision of a thin blonde face, with its expressionof sour discontent, rose before him. What had he not given thatwoman--what had she not demanded? Extravagant clothes to deck outher tall lean body, a carriage to drive her here and there, amansion to live in, all the money he could gain by constantwork--these things she demanded because she was his wife, and hehad given them, and yet she was always discontented, simply becauseshe was one of those women who do not know desire nor the delightof it. This one had nothing but that divine gift, and it made allher life joy. 

"Dance for me now in the cool, " murmured Hamilton in the littlefine curved ear with the rose-bud just over it. 

Saidie slipped off his knee, and fastening the little gilt link ather neck more securely, drew her soft filmy garment more closely toher, and commenced to dance before him in the screened verandah, with the hot moonlight, filtered through the delicate tracery; ofinnumerable leaves falling on her smooth, warm-tinted body. 

To please him, to please him, her lord, her owner, her king: it wasthe one passion in her thoughts, and it flowed through every limband muscle, glowed in her eyes, quivered on her parted lips, andmade each movement a miracle of sweet sinuous grace. 

The soft, hot night passed minute by minute, the scents of athousand flowers mingled together in the still violet air. Somewhite night-moths came and fluttered round the exquisite form onwhose rounded contours the light played so softly, and Hamilton layback in his chair, silent, absorbed, hardly drawing his breaththrough his lungs, shaken by the nervous beating of his heart. Motionless he lay there, almost breathless, for the wine of lifewas in all his veins, mounting to his head, intoxicating him. 

"I am very tired; may I stop now?" came at last in a low murmurfrom the curved lips so sweetly smiling at him, and the whole softbody drooped like a flower with fatigue. Hamilton opened his armswide. She saw how the fresh colour glowed in the handsome cheek, how his splendid neck swelled as the red deer's in November, howthe dark eyes blazed upon her. 

"Come to me, " he commanded, and she flew to his arms as thelove-bird flies upward to her mate in the pomegranate tree. 

CHAPTER III

For three months Hamilton and Saidie lived in the white bungalow inthe palms, and drank of the wine of life together, and were happyin the overwhelming intoxication it gives. 

For three months Saidie lived there, never going beyond theprecincts of the house and the palace of flowers that was thecompound. 

Why should she leave them? What had she to gain by going out intothe dusty way? What had she to seek? Her garden of Eden, herParadise, was here. She was too wise to go beyond its limits. 

Pedlars and merchants of all sorts brought their best and richestwares to her, and Hamilton sat by her in the verandah, commandingher to buy all that pleased her, though she protested she needednothing. 

Jewels for her neck, and gold anklets and bracelets, and robes andsweetmeats were laid out before her. Only the best of the bazaarwas brought, and of this again only the best was chosen. And whenHamilton was not there she walked from room to room singing, clothed in purple silken gauze, with his jewels blazing on herbreast, his kisses still burning on her lips. Then she would takeher rabab and play to the listening flowers, or practise herdancing, the source of his pleasure, or lie in the noonday heat onthe edge of the bubbling spring that rose up in the moss under theboughain-villia and look towards the East and dream of hishome-coming. What did she want more?

Hamilton now lived the enchanted life of one who is wholly absorbedin a secret passion. He was wise--more wise than men generallyare--and made no effort to parade his treasure. This wonderfulexotic, this flower of happiness, that bloomed so vividly in thedark, secluded recesses of his heart, how did he know that thedestructive heat and light of publicity might not fade and searits marvellous petals? He told no one of his life; took no one outinto the desert with him, to the bungalow among the palms. 

He was away a great deal. His work and certain social dutiesclaimed a large part of his day, and during all that time he had toleave her alone with her flowers, but this gave him no anxiety. Itwas not a dangerous experiment, as it always is to leave a Europeanwoman alone. He knew that Saidie, the Oriental, would spend thewhole time dreaming of him, longing for him, singing to the flowersof him, talking to her women-attendants of him, filling the wholegarden and house with his image till the longed-for moment of hisreturn. 

And to Hamilton, full of unspoiled life and vigour, this security, this certainty of her complete fidelity was a wondrous charm. 

Unlike a man of jaded passions, who requires his love to beconstantly stimulated by the fear of imminent loss, Hamilton, fullof unused strength, and thirsty after the joy of life, now that thecup was offered him, drank of it naturally and with ecstasy, needing no salt and bitter olives of jealousy between thedraughts. 

For years he had longed for love and happiness: at last he hadfound both, and with simple, uncavilling thankfulness he claspedthem to his breast and held them there, content. 

Saturday and Sunday were their great days. Hamilton left the officeat two on Saturday afternoon, and was back at the bungalow by five. 

They went to bed early that night, and rose on the Sunday morningwith the first glimmer of dawn. Everything would be preparedovernight for a day's excursion and picnic in the desert, whichSaidie particularly delighted in. 

The great brown camel, fat and sleek like all Hamilton's animals, and with an enormous weight of rich hair on his supple neck, wouldbe kneeling waiting for them below in the dewy compound, while theearly tender light stole softly through the palms; and they wouldmount and go swinging out through the great open spaces of thedesert, full of delicate white light, towards the sister-oasis ofDirampir, where masses of cocoanut palms grew round a set ofsprings, and waved their branches joyfully as they drew in the saltnourishment of the air from the amethystine sea not fifty milesdistant. 

Into the shelter of these palms they would come as the first greatgolden wave of light from the climbing sun broke over the desert, and, descending from the camel, walk about in the groves by thespring, and select a place for boiling their kettle and havingtheir breakfast. The long ride in the keen air of the morning gavethem great appetites, and they enjoyed it in the whole joyousbeauty of the scene round them. The palm branches over them grewgold against the laughing blue of the sky, a thousand shafts ofsunlight pierced through the fan-like tracery, the golden oriolesat play darted, chasing each other from bough to bough, the springbubbled its cool musical notes beside them, and the sense of theblighting heat of the ravening desert round them seemed toaccentuate the beauty of the peace and shade in the oasis. 

Saidie enjoyed these days beyond everything, and would sit singingat the foot of a palm, weaving a garland of white clematis forHamilton's handsome head as it rested on her lap. 

No English people ever came to the oasis; as a matter of fact, theEnglish generally do avoid the best and most beautiful spots in ornear an Indian station; but the place was greatly beloved by thenatives who came there to doze and dream, play, sing, and weavegarlands in the usual harmless manner in which a native takes hispleasure. Looking at them standing or sitting in their harmoniousgroups against a background of golden light and delicate shade, Hamilton often thought how well this scene compared with that ofthe Britisher taking a holiday--Hampstead Heath, for instance, withits noisy drunkenness, its spirit of hateful spite, its ill-usedanimals, its loathsome language. The Oriental endeavours to enjoyhimself, and his method is generally peaceful and poetic: thesinging of songs, the weaving of garlands, and the letting alone ofothers. The Briton's idea of enjoying himself is extremely simple;it consists solely in annoying his neighbours. 

To see a handsome English Sahib here was to the habitualfrequenters of the oasis something rather remarkable, but thesepeople are early taught the custody of the eyes and to mind theirown business. Therefore Hamilton and Saidie were not troubled byoffensive stares, or in any other way. All there were free, gathered to enjoy themselves, each man in his own way; and thenatives in their gay colours added to the beauty, withoutdisturbing the peace of the scene, much as the bright-plumagedbirds that flitted from tree to tree absorbed in their own affairs. 

How Hamilton enjoyed those long, calm, golden hours--the goldenhours of Asia, so full of the enchantment of rich light and colour, soft beauty before the eyes, sweet scent of the jessamine in thenostrils, the warbling of birds, and Saidie's love songs in hisears!

Not till the glorious rose of the sunset diffused itself softly inthe luminous sky, and all the desert round them grew pink, and theshadows of the palms long in the oasis, and the great planets abovethem burst blazing into view into the still rose-hued sky, did theyrise from the side of the spring and begin to think of theirhomeward ride. And what a delight it was that night ride homethrough the majestic silence of the desert, where their own hearts'beating and the soft footfall of the camel were the only sounds!the wild flash of planet and star, and sometimes the soft glimmerof the rising moon, their only light! Eros, the god of passion, seated with them on the camel, their only companion!

To Saidie, cradled in his arms, looking upwards to his face aboveher, its beauty distinct in the soft light, feeling his heartbeating against her side, it seemed as if her happiness was toogreat for the human frame to bear, as if it must dissolve, meltinto nothingness, against his breast, and her spirit pass into thegreat desert solitudes, dispersed, almost annihilated, in the agonyand ecstasy of love. 

Week after week passed lightly by in their brilliant setting, thehours on their winged feet danced by, and these two livedindependent of all the world, wrapped up in their own intimate joy. 

One morning, just as he was about to leave the bungalow, he heardSaidie's voice calling him back. He turned and saw her smilingface hanging over the stair-rail above him. He remounted thestairs, and she drew him into their room. Her face was radiant, hereyes blazed with light as she looked at him. 

"I have something to tell you, Sahib! I could not let you gowithout saying it. Only think! is not Allah good to me? I am to bethe mother of the Sahib's child, " and she fell on her knees, kissing his hands in a passion of joy. Hamilton stood for themoment silent. He was startled, unprepared for her words, unused tothe wild joy with which the Oriental woman hails a coming life. 

Her message carried a certain shock to him: it augured change; andhis happiness had been so perfect, so absolute, what would change, any change, even if wrought by the divine Hand itself, mean to himbut loss?

Saidie, terrified at his silence, looked up at him wildly. 

"What have I done? Is not my lord pleased?" Her accent was one ofthe acutest fear. 

Hamilton bent down and raised her to his breast. 

"Dearest one, light of my soul, how could I not be pleased?" andhe kissed her many times on the lips, and on the soft upper armthat pressed his throat, and on her neck, till even she wassatisfied. 

"Come and sit with me for a moment that I may tell you all, " shesaid. Hamilton sat beside her on the bed, and she told him manythings that an Englishwoman would never say, nor would it enterinto her mind to conceive them. 

Hamilton was greatly moved as he sat listening. The wonderfulimagery, the vivid language in which she clothed her pure joyousthoughts appealed to his own poetic, artistic habit of mind. 

On his way across the desert to the city, Hamilton pondered deeplyover the news and the girl's unaffected joy. Since all thosewhispered confidences poured into his ear while they sat side byside on the bed, the throb of jealousy he had first felt at herwords had passed away. Saidie had made it so clear to him that herjoy was not so great at being the mother of a child as that she wasto be the mother of _his_ child, and similarly Hamilton felt inall his being a curious thrill at the thought that his child washers, that this new life was created in and of her life that hadbecome so infinitely dear to him. 

He was glad now that his wife had refused to have a child. Thebitter pain he had felt then, those years ago, how little he hadthought it was to be the parent of this present joy. Now the womanhe loved as he had loved no other would be the one to bear hischild. Still the thought of the suffering the mother would gothrough depressed his sensitive mind, and the idea of the risk toher life that came suddenly into his brain made him turn white tothe lips as he rode in the hot sunlight. Such intense happiness ashe had known for the last three months can turn a brave man into acoward. For a moment he faced the horrid thought that had come tohim--Saidie dead! And the whole brilliant plain, laughing sky, anddancing sunlight and waving palms became black to him. To go backto that dreary existence of nothingness of his former life, afteronce having known the delight that this bright, eager, ardentlove, these delicate little clinging hands had made for him, wouldbe impossible. 

"No, " he murmured to himself, "if she goes, then it's a snuff outfor me too. I have never cared for life except as she has made itfor me. "

And the cloud rolled off him a little as he met the idea of his owndeath. Besides, Saidie had declared so positively that she couldcome to no harm, that it would all be pure delight, that pain andsuffering could not exist for her in such a matter since she wouldbe all joy in making him this gift, that gradually he grew calmeras he thought over her words. 

"But I didn't want any change, " he burst out a little later, talking to the still golden air round him. "Confound it! I wasperfectly happy. How impossible it is to keep anything as it is inthis world! All our actions drag in upon us their consequences sofast! There is no getting away from this horrible change, noenjoying one's happiness peacefully when one has obtained it. "

When he arrived at his office in the city he found that a farheavier cloud had arisen on his horizon than that created bySaidie's words. The English mail was in, and a long thin envelope, impressed with a much-hated handwriting, faced him on the top ofthe pile of his correspondence as he entered. 

He picked it up and opened it. 

 "DEAR FRANK, --You often used to invite me to come to India, and I have really at last made up my mind to. I am coming out by next month's boat to stay with you for a time. I have been very much run down in health lately, and my doctor says a sea-voyage and six months in India will be first-rate for me. I hope you have a nice comfortable house and good servants. --Yours affectionately, JANE. "

Hamilton stared at the letter savagely as he put it down before himon the table, a sort of grim smile breaking slowly over his face. He felt convinced that in some way his wife had learned of hisnew-found happiness, and that had given birth to her sudden desireto visit India after twenty years of persistent refusal to do so. He sat motionless for a long time, then stretched out his hand foran English telegraph form and wrote on it--

 "Regret unable to receive you now. Defer visit. FRANK. "

He did not for one moment think that his wife would obey hisinjunction, or that his wire would have the least effect on her;but he wished to have a good ground to stand on when she arrived, and he declined to receive her. His teeth set for a moment as hethought of the interview. 

"This is a sort of wind-up day of my happiness, " he muttered, as hetook his place at the office table. "Well, I suppose no one couldexpect such pleasure as I have had these last three months tocontinue; but, whatever happens, Saidie and I will stick together. "He sat musing for a moment, staring with unseeing eyes at the pileof work in front of him. 

"Saidie, my Saidie! I shall never part from her; therefore I cannever part from my happiness. " He smiled a little at the play onthe words, and then commenced his day's labours. 

That evening, when he returned, Saidie noticed at once thedepression in his usually gay, bright manner. When they were aloneat dinner she laid her hand on his. 

"What has darkened the light of my lord's countenance?" she askedsoftly. 

Hamilton drew from his pocket his wife's letter, and laid it besideher plate. 

"Can you read that, Saidie? If so, you will know all about it. "

The girl leaned one elbow on the table and bent over the letter, studying it. She had been trying hard to improve herself in thelanguage, of which she knew already something, and with Orientalquickness, had acquired much in the past three months. She made outthe sense now easily enough. 

"This lady is a wife of yours?" she said quickly, with a swiftupward glance at him, when she had finished reading the letter. 

Hamilton laughed a little. 

"She was my wife till I saw you, Saidie. No one is my wife now, norever will be, but you. "

A soft glow of supreme pleasure and pride lighted up Saidie's greatlustrous eyes. She bent her head and put her soft lips to hishand. 

"Have you forbidden this wife to come to you?" she asked after aminute. 

"Yes, I have; but she will come all the same. English wives thinkit foolish to obey their husbands. "

He laughed sardonically, and Saidie looked bewildered andhorrified. 

 * * * * *

A month later, a long, lean woman sat in a deck chair on board anIndian liner as it crossed the enchanted waters of the IndianOcean. Enchanted, for surely it is some magician's touch that makesthese waters such a rich and glorious blue! How they roll sogently, full of majestic beauty, crested with sunlight, under theships they carry so lightly! How the gold light leaps over them, how the azure sky above laughs down to their tranquil mirror! howthe gleaming flying-fish rise in their glinting cloud, whirl overthem, and then softly disappear into their mysterious embrace!

The long, lean woman saw none of the magic round her. Her dull, boiled-looking eyes gazed through the soft sunlight without seeingit. In her lap lay a thin foreign letter and a telegram, togetherwith a copy of "Anna Lombard" that she was reading with thestrongest disapproval. She picked up the letter and glanced throughit again, though she knew it nearly by heart, especially onepassage:

 "Your husband is leading such a life here! He has built a wonderful white marble palace in the desert for an Egyptian dancing-girl. They say it's a sort of Antony and Cleopatra over again, and she goes about loaded with jewels and golden chains. I don't know if you are getting your allowance regularly, but I should think your husband is pretty well ruining himself. I never saw a man so changed. He used to be so melancholy, but now he is as bright as possible, and looks so well and handsome. I hear the woman is expecting a child, and they are both as pleased as they can be. I hear all about it, as our cook's cousin is sister to the ayah your husband hired for the woman, and my ayah gets it all from our cook. I really should, my dear, come out and look into the matter, as after a time he will probably want to stop sending home his pay. "

The thin sheet fell into the woman's lap again, and she seemed toponder deeply. Then she read Hamilton telegram again--

"Regret unable to receive you now. Defer visit, " and a disagreeablelaugh broke from her thick, colourless lips. 

"I will go out and see her first, " she thought, smoothing down witha large, bony hand the folds of her rather prim white cambricdress. She was a very stupid woman, and not a passionate one;therefore the agony of pain of a loving, jealous wife was quiteunknown to her. But she was malignant, as such people usually are. She loved making other people uncomfortable in a general way, andtaking away from them anything she could that they valued. She alsofelt a peculiar curiosity such as those who cannot feel passionthemselves have usually about the intense happiness it gives toothers. The picture of this other woman, who had found joyapparently in the arms she herself years ago had thrust aside, interested her profoundly. She told herself that this Egyptianloved Hamilton's money, but some instinct within her held her backfrom believing this. 

The little bit about the child went deeply into her mind. Itrested there like an arrow-head, and her thoughts grew round it. When the ship came into port a week or two later, Mrs. Hamiltonwas one of the first passengers to land, and after carefulenquiries and well-bestowed tips she was expeditiously conveyedby ticker-gharry[1] and sedan chair across the desert to thebungalow at Deira. She was considerably pleased on seeing thatthe white marble palace resolved itself into an ordinary whitebungalow, but the garden, was unutterably lovely, and, as she sawin a moment, represented something quite unusual in cost andcare. 

[Footnote 1: Hired carriage. ]

It was just high noon when she arrived, and she thankfully escapedfrom the suffocating heat and glare of the desert into the coolshaded hall, and gave her card with a throb of spiteful elation tothe butler. 

The Oriental servant read the name, and hurried with the card tohis mistress's room. On hearing of the arrival of the Mem-Sahib, Saidie descended from the upper room, where she had been lying inthe noonday heat, and, pushing aside the great golden chick thatswung before the drawing-room entrance, went in. 

Her dress was of the most exquisite Indian muslin that Hamiltoncould obtain, heavily and wonderfully embroidered in gold, andpeacocks' eyes of vivid deep blue and green; her feet were bare, for Hamilton, in his revolt from English ways, had kept up Orientaltraditions as far as possible in the clothing of his new mistress, and weighty anklets of solid gold gleamed beneath the border of herskirt. Round the perfect column of her neck, full and stately asthe red deer's, were twisted great strings of pearls, throwingtheir pale irridescent greenish hue onto the velvet skin. Above thesplendour of her dress rose the regal and lovely face, its delicatecarving and the marvel of its dark, flashing, enquiring eyesvividly striking in the clear mellow light of the room. 

Mrs. Hamilton, dressed in a plain, grey alpaca dress, rather hotand dusty after her long drive, sat on one of the low divansawaiting her. As Saidie entered, the glory of her youth and beautystruck upon the seated woman like a heavy blow, under which shestarted to her feet and stood for a second, involuntarilyshrinking. 

"Salaam, be seated, " murmured Saidie, indicating a fauteuil nearthe one on which she sank herself. 

Mrs. Hamilton came forward, her hands closing and unclosingspasmodically in their grey silk gloves, and sat down again, hereyes riveted on the other's face. 

"Do you know who I am?" she said at last in a stifled voice. 

Saidie smiled faintly; one of those liquid, lingering smiles thatmade Hamilton's heaven. 

"Yes, I know; you are Mem Sahib Hamilton, the first, the oldwife. ". 

Saidie, according to her own Eastern ideas, was in the position ofa superior receiving an unfortunate inferior. She was the latestacquired--the darling, the reigning queen--confronted with the poorcast-off, old, unattractive first wife; and being of a natureequally noble as the type of her beauty, she felt it incumbent onher, in such a situation, to treat the unfortunate with everyconsideration, gentleness, and tenderness. 

The British matron's views of the relative positions of first andsubsequent wives differs, however, from Saidie's, and Mrs. Hamilton's face grew purple as she heard Saidie's answer, and somefaint comprehension of Saidie's view was borne in upon her. 

"Where is my husband?" she demanded fiercely. 

"The Sahib is in the city to-day, " returned Saidie calmly. Howodious they were, these Englishwomen, with their short skirts andbig boots, and red, hot faces, with great black straw houses overthem, and their curt manners, and the impertinent way they spoke oftheir lords!

"When will he be back?" pursued the other, sharply. 

Saidie glanced towards the clock. 

"In a few hours; perhaps more. He returns at sunset. "

"And what do you do all day, shut up by yourself?" questioned hervisitor, with a sort of contemptuous surprise. 

"I think of him, " returned Saidie, quite simply, with a sort ofproud pleasure that made the Englishwoman stare incredulously. 

"Silly little fool!" she ejaculated, with a harsh, disdainfullaugh. 

"Does he give you all those things, and dress you up like that?"she added, staring at the pearls on Saidie's neck. 

"He has given me everything I have, " she replied, seriously. 

That Hamilton was wasting his substance on another went home farmore keenly to his lawful wife than that he was wasting his love onthe same. She got up, and went close to the girl, with a face offury. 

"They are all mine! I should like to drag them off you! Do youunderstand that an Englishman's money belongs to his wife, and _I_am his wife? You! What are you? He belongs to me, and, whatever youmay think, I can take him from you. By our laws he must come backto me. "

Saidie rose and faced the angry woman unmoved. 

"No law on earth can make a man stay with a woman he does notlove, " she said calmly, "nor take him from one he does. You mustknow little, or you would know that love is stronger than all law. I give you leave to withdraw. Salaam. "

And she herself moved slowly backwards towards the hanging chick, passed through it, and was gone, leaving the Englishwoman alone inthe room. 

 * * * * *

Three hours later Hamilton, sitting in his own private office, surrounded with papers, started suddenly as he heard a well-knownand hated voice say, outside the door. 

"Thanks, I'll go in myself. "

The next minute the door had opened and his wife stood before him. He sat in silence, regarding her. 

"Well, Frank, I suppose you were expecting me? You saw the boatcame in, doubtless. You don't look particularly pleased to see me!"

There was only one chair in the room, and Hamilton remained seated. His wife stood in front of him. 

"I do not know of any reason why I should be pleased, do you?" hesaid calmly, gazing at her with eyes full of concentratedhostility. 

"No, considering you've got that black woman up at your house, Idon't suppose you do want your wife back very badly; but I've cometo stay, my dear fellow, some time, so you've got to make the bestof it. "

"You will not stay with me, " returned Hamilton quietly. His facewas very white, his eyes had become black as they looked at her. One hand played idly with a paper-knife on his table. 

"And a nice scandal there'll be when I go to stay at the hotelhere, and it's known I'm your wife, and you are living out in thedesert with a woman from the bazaar!"

"The fear of scandal has long since ceased to regulate my life, "answered Hamilton calmly. "Be good enough to make your interviewshort; I have a great deal of work to-day. "

"You are a devil!" replied the woman, white, too, now with impotentrage, "to desert your own wife for that filthy native woman. I--"

But Hamilton had sprung to his feet; his face was blazing; heseized his wife's wrists in both hands. 

"Be quiet, " he said, in a low tone of such fury that she coweredbeneath it. "One word more and I shall _kill_ you; do youunderstand?"

Then he raised one hand and brought it down on his gong. Instantlytwo stalwart, bronze giants, his chuprassis, entered the room andstood by the door. 

"Take this woman out, and keep her out, " he said to them. "Neverlet her in again. She annoys me. "

The chuprassis put their hands to their foreheads, and thenimpassively approached the Englishwoman. She looked at her husbandwildly as they took her arms. 

"Frank! you will not surely--" she expostulated. "Your own wife!"and she struggled to release her arms. 

Hamilton waved his hand, and the natives forced her to the door. For a moment she seemed inclined to scream and struggle. Then herface changed. A look of intense malevolence came over it. Shewalked between the men quietly to the door. As she passed throughit, she looked back. 

"You and she shall regret this, " she said. Then the door shut, andHamilton was alone. 

He sat down, collapsed in his chair. Oh, how could he free himselffrom this millstone at his neck? What relief could he gainanywhere? To what power appeal? He could keep her out of his house, out of his office, but not out of his life. She had come here withthe deliberate intention of wrecking that, and she would succeedprobably, for she would have the blind, hideous force ofconventional morality on her side. She would destroy his life--thatlife till lately so valueless to him; that dreary stretch madebarren so many years by her hateful influence, but which, in spiteof it, at Saidie's touch, had now bloomed into a garden of flowers. The thought of Saidie strengthened him. It was true that his wifewould probably succeed in breaking up his life here from theconventional and social point of view, and he would be obliged mostlikely to give up his appointment; but he had a small independentincome, and on that he and Saidie could still live together. Theywould go to Ceylon or to Malabar. Perhaps also he could make moneyotherwise than officially. Wherever he went his wife would probablypursue him, intent on making his life a misery. Still, Fortunemight favour him; he and Saidie might in time reach some corner ofthe world where their remorseless tracker would lose trace of them. Perhaps to go to England at once and obtain a legal separationwould be the best plan, but then it was winter in England now, andhe could not with advantage take Saidie to England in winter, forfear his exotic Eastern flower would fade in the northern winds. 

His thoughts wandered from point to point, and the minutes passedunheeded. His papers lay untouched, scattered on the floor. Thechuprassi brought in from time to time a note, laid it on the tableand withdrew. Hamilton noticed nothing; he sat still, thinking. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Hamilton had been driven to the hotel, where sheengaged very modest quarters and ordered luncheon. While waitingfor this she went out into the balcony before her windows, andlooked with gloomy eyes into the sunny, laughing splendour of theEastern afternoon. At the side of the hotel was a luxuriant garden, and the palms and sycamores growing there threw a light shade intothe sunny street just below her window; the sky overhead stretchedits eternal Eastern blue, and the pigeons wheeled joyfully in andout the eaves in the clear sparkling air, or descended to the poolsin the garden to bathe, with incessant cooing. Up and down theroad passed the white bullocks with their laden carts, and thegaily-dressed Turkish sweet-meat sellers went by crooning out songsdescriptive of their wares, pausing under the shade of the gardento look up at the English Mem-Sahib in the balcony. She leant herarms on the rail, and looked out on the gay scene with unseeingeyes. "Beast!" she muttered at intervals, and her hard-lined facecrimsoned and paled by turns. 

When her luncheon came in she returned to the room, took off herhat and looked in the glass. The narrow, selfish, petty emotions oftwenty years were written all over her face in deep, hideous lines. The mass of yellow hair, newly-dyed, looked glaringly youthful andincongruous above it. 

Burning with a sense of malevolent discontent and misery, sheturned from the glass and hurried through her luncheon, thenordered it to be cleared away and writing materials to be broughtin, and set herself with grim feverishness to the concoction of along letter to the Commissioner. In it Hamilton's twenty years ofpatient fidelity, through which time he had regularly transmittedto her half his pay year by year were naturally not mentioned; herown refusal to live with him, her incessant demands for more money, her extravagance, her long, whining letters to him, her debts, herown life in town were, of course, also suppressed. In the lettershe figured as the ardent, tender, anxious wife, arriving to findher abandoned husband wasting his substance on a black mistress. The visit to the cruel tyrant in his office was long dwelt on, andthe whole closed with a pathetic appeal to the Commissioner to usehis influence to restore her dearest boy to her arms. It was not abad letter from the artist's and the liar's standpoint, and sheread it through with a glow of satisfaction, sealed it up with abaleful smile of triumph, and then sounded the gong. 

"Take this at once to the Commissioner Sahib, " she said, handingthe note to the servant, "and let me have some tea; also you canorder me a carriage. I shall want to drive afterwards. "

When the tea came, she thoroughly enjoyed it after her virtuouslabours, and in the cool of the evening drove out to see the city. 

 * * * * *

That evening at dinner, seated at their table, laden with flowers, with the light from the heavy Burmese silver lamps falling on herlovely glowing face, and round bangle-laden arms, Saidie toldHamilton of the visit of the white Mem-Sahib. His face darkened andhis lips set. 

"So she came here, did she? Did she frighten you? attempt to hurtyou?"

"Oh, no, " returned Saidie; "not at all. Naturally she is very hurt, very sorry; no wonder she longs after the Sahib, and wishes to betaken back to his harem. I was very sorry for her. It is quitenatural she should be jealous, of course, " and Saidie rested onesoft, silken skinned elbow on the table and leaned across theflowers, and her half-filled wine-glass, looking with tender liquideyes earnestly at the face of her lord. 

"The Sahib is so wonderful, so beautiful, so far above other men, "she murmured, gazing upon him. "It is no wonder she is unhappy. "

Hamilton smiled a little, looking back at her. He had indeed asingularly handsome face, with its straight, noble features andwarm colour, and as he smiled the breast of the Eastern girlheaved; her heart seemed to rush out to him. 

"Ah, Saidie! you do not understand English wives, " he said gently, with a curious melancholy in his voice. "Love and worship such asyou give me they think shameful and shocking. To love a man forhimself, for his face, for his body is degrading. They are so pure, they love him only for his purse. They tell him to take his passionto dancing-girls like you. They hate to bear him children. Theylike to live in his house, be clothed at his expense, ride in hiscarriage, but they care little to sleep in his arms. "

Saidie regarded him steadfastly, with eyes ever growing wider asshe listened. 

"I do not understand ... " she murmured at last, clasping both soft, supple hands across her breast, as if trying to mould herself intothis new belief; "it is so hard to comprehend.... Surely it mustbe right to love one's lord, to bear him sons, to please him, tomake him happy every hour, every minute of the day and night. "

"Right?" returned Hamilton passionately, getting up from his seatand coming over to her. "Of course it is right! love such as yoursis a divine gift to man, straight from the hands of God. " He leanedhis burning hands heavily on the delicately-moulded shoulders, looking down into her upturned face. How exquisite it was! its finestraight nose, its marvellously-carved mouth and short upper lip, its round, full chin, and midnight eyes beneath their greatarching, sweeping brows!

"That woman is a fiend, one of the unnatural creatures our wretchedEuropean civilisation has made only to destroy the lives of men. Don't let us speak of her! never let us think of her! She isnothing to me. You are my world, my all. If she drives us away fromhere, there are other parts of the world for us. Separate us shenever shall. Come! why should we waste our time even mentioning hername. Come with me into our garden. Darling! darling!"

He stooped over her, and on her lips pressed those kisses so longrefused, uncared for by one woman, so priceless to this one, andalmost lifted Saidie from the chair. She laughed the sweet lowlaughter of the Oriental woman, and went with him eagerly towardsthe verandah, and out into the compound where the roses slept inthe warm silver light. 

 * * * * *

For two days nothing happened. Hamilton went as usual to his officefor the day. At four he left, and, mounting his camel, went intothe desert to the oasis in the palms. 

On the third day he received a summons from the Commissioner, andwent up to his house in the afternoon. His heart seethed with ragewithin him, but except for an unusual pallor in the clear warmskin, his face showed nothing as he entered the large, imposingdrawing-room. 

The Commissioner was a short, pompous little man, ratherovershadowed by his grim raw-boned wife, and had under her strictguidance and training developed a stern admiration for conventionalvirtue, particularly in regard to conjugal relations. He rose andbowed as Hamilton entered, but did not offer to shake hands. Hamilton waited, erect, silent. 

"Sit down, Mr. Hamilton. " Hamilton sat down. "Er--I--ah--havereceived what I may term a painful--yes, a very painfulcommunication, and er--I may say at once it refers to you and yourconcerns in a most distressing manner--most distressing. "

The Commissioner coughed and waited. Hamilton remained silent. TheCommissioner fidgeted, crossed his knees, uncrossed them again, then turned on him suddenly. The Indian climate is trying to thetemper; it means many pegs, and small control of the passions. 

"Damn you, sir!" he broke out fiercely. "What the devil do you meanby keeping a black woman in your house, and sending your wife tothe hotel here?"

He was purple and furious; in his hand he crushed Mrs. Hamilton'sbeautiful composition. 

"She tells me you called in natives to throw her out of youroffice: it's disgraceful! Upon my word it is; it's scandalous! Andyou sent her to the hotel! I never heard of such a thing!"

"Mrs. Hamilton came out uninvited, in defiance of my expresswishes, and on her arrival I told her she could not stay with me, "returned Hamilton quietly. "Whether she went to the hotel or not, Idon't know. "

"But your wife, damn it all, your wife, has a right to stay withyou if she chooses; naturally she would come to you, and you can'tturn her out in this way. "

"She has long ago forfeited all rights as my wife, " repliedHamilton calmly, in a low tone, with so much weight in it that theCommissioner looked at him keenly. 

"Why don't you get a divorce or a separation then?" he askedabruptly. "Do the thing decently--not have her out like this, andmake a scandal all over the station. "

"I know of no grounds for a divorce, " returned Hamilton. "There aremany ways of breaking the marriage vows other than infidelity. Imarried Mrs. Hamilton twenty years ago, and for those twenty yearsshe has practically refused to live with me. For twenty years Ihave remitted half my income to her every year. During that time Ihave many times asked her to join me here, sought a reconciliationalways to be refused. Recently I found another interest; the momentmy wife discovered this, she came out with the sole purpose ofannoying me. I have come to the conclusion that twenty years'fidelity to a woman without reward is enough. I shall not alter mylife now to suit Mrs. Hamilton. "

The Commissioner was silent. He was quite sure Hamilton wasspeaking the truth, and in reality, in the absence of Mrs. Commissioner, he felt all his sympathies go with him. But hiswife's careful training and his official position put other wordsthan his mind dictated into his mouth. 

"Well, well, " he said at last, "we can't go into all that. You andyour wife must arrange your matters somehow between you. But therecan't be a scandal like this going on. You, a married man, livingwith a native woman, and your wife out here at the hotel! Somethingmust be done to make things look all right--must be done, " and heknitted his brows, looking crossly at Hamilton from under them. 

Hamilton shrugged his shoulders. 

"You'd better give up this native woman, " snapped theCommissioner. 

Hamilton smiled. His was such an expressive face, it told moreclearly the feelings than most impassive English faces, and therewas that in the smile that held the Commissioner's gaze; and thetwo men sat staring at each other in silence. 

After some moments the Commissioner spoke again but his tone wasdifferent. 

"Hamilton, you know we all have to make sacrifices to our officialposition, to public opinion, to social usage. Ah! what a Molochthat is that we've created, it devours our best. Yes ... A Moloch!"he muttered half to himself, gazing on the floor. 

"Still, it's there, and we all suffer equally in turn. I know whatit is myself. I have been through it all. " He stopped, gazingfixedly at the beautiful crimson roses in the pattern of his Wiltoncarpet. What visions swept before him of gleaming eyes and sweepingbrows, ruthlessly blotted out by a large, raw-boned figure and faceof aggressive chastity. "I am sorry for you, but there it is;whatever the rights of the case, you can't make a scandal likethis. "

"I am ready to resign my post if necessary, " returned Hamilton; "Ihave enough to live on without my pay. "

The Commissioner started, and looked at him. 

"Is she so handsome as that?" he asked in a low tone, leaning alittle forward. Mrs. Commissioner was not there, and he wasforgetting officialdom. 

Hamilton hesitated a moment. Then he drew from his pocket aphotograph, taken by himself, of Saidie standing amongst herflowers. 

The beautiful Eastern face, the lovely, youthful, sinuous figure, veiled in its slight, transparent drapery, taken by an artist and alover in the clear, actinic Indian light, made an exquisite work ofart. It lay in the hand of the Commissioner, and he gazed on it, remembering his long-past youth. 

After a long time Hamilton broke the silence. 

"Now, you know, " he said at last, "why I am ready to resign my postrather than resign _that_; and it is not only her beauty thatcharms me, it is her devotion, her love.... Do you know, white orblack, superior or inferior, these two women are not to bementioned in one breath. The one you see there is a woman, theother is a fiend. "

The Commissioner tried to look shocked, but failed; the smooth cardstill lay in his hand, the lovely image impressed on it smiled upat him. 

"I don't know but what you are right, " he muttered savagely as hehanded it back to Hamilton. "These wives, damn 'em, seem to have noother mission but to make a man uncomfortable. "

He got up and began to pace the room. He seemed to have forgottenHamilton and the official _rôle_ he himself had started to play. Heseemed absorbed in his own thoughts--perhaps memories. Hamilton satstill, gazing at the card. 

Half-an-hour later the interview came to an end. Hamilton went awayto his office with a light heart, and a smile on his lips. TheCommissioner had given him some of his own reminiscences, andHamilton had sympathised. The two men had drifted insensibly ontocommon ground, and the Commissioner finally had promised to helpHamilton as far as he could. Hamilton was pleased. That he hadmerely been twisting a piece of straw, that would be bent intoquite another shape when Mrs. Commissioner took it in hand, did notfor the moment occur to him. That night Saidie danced for him inthe moonlight, and afterwards ran from him swiftly, playing athide-and-seek amongst the roses laughing, inviting his pursuit. Inand out behind the great clumps of boughain-villia gleamed thelovely form, with hair unbound falling like a mantle to the waist. Through the pomegranate bushes the laughing face looked out at him, then swiftly vanished as he approached, and next a laugh and aflash of warm skin drew him to the bed of lilies where he overtookher, and they fell laughing on the mossy bank together. Weariedwith dancing and running and laughter, she sank into his armsgladly, as Eve in the garden of Eden. 

"Let us sleep here, " she murmured, looking up to the palm branchesover them defined against the lustrous sky. 

"See how the lilies sleep round us!"

And that night they slept out in the moonlight. 

CHAPTER IV

A month had gone by, and during that month, except for the time hewas with Saidie in the bungalow, Hamilton, had he been less of aphilosopher, would have been extremely uncomfortable. 

The Commissioner's wife had completely and entirely espoused thecause of Mrs. Hamilton, and had insisted on her leaving the hoteland coming to stay with her. Everywhere that the Commissioner'swife went, riding or driving, Mrs. Hamilton accompanied her; andwhenever he met the two women, his wife threw him a mild, reproachful glance of martyred virtue, while the Commissioner'swife glared upon him in stony wrath. 

Hamilton took no notice of either glance, but passed them as ifneither existed. The Commissioner looked miserably guilty wheneverhe encountered Hamilton's amused, penetrating eyes, and avoidedhim as much as possible. The Commissioner's house was completelyshut to him; he never approached it now except on officialbusiness, and nearly every house in the station followed itsexample. The story of Mrs. Hamilton's woes and wrongs had spreadall over the community, and proved a theme of delightful andnever-ending interest to all the ladies of the station. They wereunanimous in supporting her. Not one voice was raised in favour ofHamilton. He was a monster, a heartless libertine, given over toall sorts of terrible vices. Tales of the fearful doings in thedesert bungalow, where Hamilton and Saidie lived the gay, bright, joyous life of two human beings, happily mated, as Nature intendedall things to be, spread over the station, and the stony stare ofthe women upon Hamilton, when they met him, mingled insensibly witha shrinking horror that greatly amused him. 

Nobody spoke to him except in his business capacity. Every oneavoided him. He was practically ostracised. Mrs. Hamilton, on theother hand, went everywhere, and thoroughly enjoyed herself in the_rôle_ of gentle forgiving martyr that she played to perfection. Being plain and unattractive to men, she was thoroughly popularwith the women, and they were never tired of condoling with her onhaving such a brute of a husband. What more natural, poor dear!than that she should refuse to live with him in India, if theclimate did not suit her? So unreasonable of him to expect it! Thequestion of a family, too! why, what woman was there now who didnot hate to have her figure spoiled, and object to be always in thesick-room and nursery? So natural that she did not wish thosedisagreeable passionate relationships: a man could not expect thatsort of thing from his wife! And then the money, too! she had neverhad more than half his income all these twenty years! It seemed tothem that she had been wonderfully good and resigned. 

Such was the talk at the afternoon teas, and the married men at theclub, coached by their wives, and being in the position of the foxwho had lost his brush, and wished no other fox to retain his, condemned Hamilton quite as freely. 

"It was beastly rough on his wife, " they agreed, "to set up ablack dancing-girl under her eyes. "

Hamilton cared not at all for the social life of the station, andwas greatly relieved by not having invitations to give or toanswer. All that he regretted was the ultimate resignation of hispost, which, he foresaw, would be the result of all this scandalsooner or later. 

Saidie, with Oriental quickness, had soon grasped the wholesituation, and had flung herself at his feet in a passion of tears, begging him to send her away or to kill her rather than let herpresence make him unhappy. Hamilton had some difficulty in turningher mind from the resolve to kill herself by way of serving him;and it was only his solemn oath to her that she was the one singlejoy and happiness of his life, that with her in his arms he caredabout nothing else, that if he lost her his life was at an end, which pacified and at last convinced her. 

Another month went by, and Mrs. Hamilton began to tire of herposition. She felt she was not making Hamilton half unhappy enough. She had had but one idea, and that was to separate him from Saidie, and in this she had failed. He had not even been turned out of hispost. He had been expelled from the social life of the station; butshe knew he would not feel that, that he would only welcome thegreater leisure he had to spend in his Eden with _her_. To play themartyr for a time had been interesting, but its pleasure wasbeginning to wane; moreover, she could not stay permanently withthe Commissioner's wife. She grew restless: she must carry out herplan somehow. When Hamilton's life was completely wrecked, shewould be ready to return to England--not till then; and she layawake at nights grinding her long, narrow, wolf-like teeth togetheras she thought of Hamilton in the desert bungalow. 

One morning, after a nearly sleepless night, she got up and lookedcritically at her face in the glass. Old and haggard as usual itlooked; but to-day, in addition to age and care, a specially evildetermination sat upon it. 

"Life is practically done with, " she thought, looking at it. "Ihave only this one thing to care about now, and I'll do it somehowbefore I go. If I can't enjoy my life, he shan't enjoy his. "

She turned from the glass, and commenced dressing. The evil lookdeepened on her face from minute to minute, and the word "Beast!"came at intervals through her teeth. 

Outside the window of her charming room all was waking in thejoyous dawn of the East. Long shadows lay across the velvet greenslopes of the Commissioner's lawn as the sun rose behind themajestic palms that shaded it; floods of golden light were ripplingsoftly over roses and stephanotis, opening bud after bud to theazure above them; the gay call of the birds rang through the clearmorning air; the perroquets swung in ecstasy on the bamboobranches, crying out shrill comments on each other's toilet. Thescent of a thousand blossoms rose up like some magic influence, stealing through the sparkling sunlight into the room, and playedround the thin face of the woman within, but it could make nomessage clear to her. Every sense of hers had long been sealed toall joy by hate. 

At breakfast she announced her intention of leaving India by thefollowing mail, and not all the kind pressure brought to bear uponher by the Commissioner's wife could induce her to postpone herdeparture. She was gentle, calm, and resigned in manner, as usual, excessively grateful for all they had done for her, and thekindness shown her. She spoke very sweetly of her husband, toldthem how she had hoped by coming out to induce him to leave theevil life he was leading; but she saw now that these things lay inhigher hands than hers, and she felt all she could do was to prayand hope for him in silence. 

"Why don't you divorce him?" broke in the Commissioner abruptly andquickly, anxious to get it out before his wife could stop him. Hetugged violently at his moustache, waiting for her answer. If shewould do that, he was thinking, what a relief for that poor devilHamilton!

"Divorce him?" returned Mrs. Hamilton resignedly. "Never! It is awife's duty to submit to whatever cross Providence lays upon her, but divorce seems to me only the resource of abandoned women. "

The Commissioner's wife nodded her head in majestic approval. TheCommissioner got up abruptly, breakfast being concluded. He saidnothing, but his mental ejaculation was, "Old hag! knows shecouldn't get any one else, nor half such a handsome allowance!"

The day for Mrs. Hamilton's departure came, and on its morningHamilton found a note from her on his office desk. He took it upand opened it with a feeling of repulsion. 

 "DEAR FRANK, --I am leaving by the noon boat for England. They seem to have altered their time of sailing to twelve instead of seven P. M. 

 "I am sorry my visit here has caused you trouble. Do not be too hard on me. I am leaving now, and do not intend to worry you again. You must lead your own life until, perhaps, some day you wish to return to me. You will find me ready to welcome you. Good-bye, and forgive any pain I have caused you. --Your affectionate wife, JANE. "

Hamilton read this note with amazement, and a sense of its falsityswept over him, as if a wind had risen from the paper and struckhis face. But as men too often do, he tried to thrust away hisfirst true instincts, and replace their warning with a lumberingreason. He sat deep in thought, gazing at the table before him. Ifit were true, if she were really going, if she really meantgood-bye, what a relief! But it was impossible, unless, indeed, shehad accomplished her plan, and had heard that he had been, or wasabout to be dismissed from his post. 

This seemed to throw a light upon the matter, and with the idea offinding confirmation of this in some of the other letters awaitinghim, he started to go through them. It was a heavy post-bag, andgave him much to attend to. He went through the letters, but foundnothing relative to himself in them, and settled down to his work. Twelve, one, and two passed, and he looked up at the clock, wondering if she were really gone. He seemed to have no inclinationfor lunch, so he worked on without leaving the office, and onlyrose to clear his desk when it was time to leave for the day. To-morrow he would learn definitely what passengers the out-goingboat had carried. He would not stay this evening to find out. Hefelt ill, listless; he only wanted to be back with Saidie in therestful shade of the palms. 

As he rode across the desert that evening an indefinable depressionhung over him. Never since he had found Saidie had that melancholy, once so natural, come back to him. Her spirit, whether she wereabsent or present, seemed always with him--a gay, bright, beautifulvision ever before his eyes, giving him the feeling that he waslooking always into sunlight. But to-night there seemed emptiness, gloom about him. 

"It's the weather, " he muttered, and looked upward to the curioussky. It was gold, gleaming gold; but close to the horizon lay twobright purple bars, like lines of writing in the West: the prophecyof a storm, and the heat seemed to hang in the air that not afaintest breath moved. 

Swiftly and evenly the great camel bore him, its well-belovedmaster, over the rippling sand towards the palms in the goldenwest, but the approaching night travelled faster than they, and itwas quite dark, with a sullen heavy darkness, before they reachedthe bungalow. It seemed very quiet, with an indefinable sense ofstillness in the garden and wide hall. Neither Saidie nor anyservant came to meet him, and it was quite dark: no lamp had beenlighted. With a sudden throb of terror in his heart, Hamiltonpaused and called "Saidie. "

There was no response, no sound. Striking a match, Hamiltondeliberately lit a lamp. Some great evil was upon him, and with acurious calmness he went forward to meet it. He went upstairs andpushed open the door of their bedroom, shielding the light with hishand and seeking first with his eyes the bed. Saidie lay there: theexquisite form, in its transparent purple gauze, lay composed uponthe bed, a little to one side. The glorious hair, unbound, rippledin a dark river to the floor; the head rested sideways as in sleep, upon the pillow. In silence Hamilton approached; near the bed hisfoot slid suddenly; he looked down; there was a tiny lake ofscarlet blood, blackening at its edges, blood on the woodenbedstead side, blood on the purple muslin over the perfect breasts. Hamilton, his body growing rigid, put out his hand to her forehead;it was cold. He set down the lamp and turned her face towards it, putting his arm under her head. Her lips were stone colour, thelids were closed over the eyes; the face was the face of death. 

In those moments Hamilton realized that his own life was over. Saidie was dead--murdered. The world then was simply no more forhim. All was finished: he himself was a dead man. Only one thingremained, one duty for him. To avenge her! Then utter rest andblackness. He looked round thinking. The room was quite empty, undisturbed. The great pearls on Saidie's neck were untouched. Theygleamed gently in the pale light from his lamp. No robber, nooutsider had been here. Then, in the darkened room, leapt up beforehim the truth: a white, blonde face seemed looking at him from thewalls--the thick pale lips, the half-closed sinister eyes, the leanlong figure of his wife rose before him. 

"But she was to leave by the morning's boat, " he muttered. Then... A thought struck him. He withdrew his arm gently from thepassive head, lighted another lamp, putting it on a bracket in thewall, and left the room, descending to the vacant hall. He went tothe verandah and called to his servants. They came, a tremblingcrowd, with upraised hands, and fell flat before him, weeping andstriking their heads on the ground. 

"It is not our fault, Light of Heaven, Father of the Poor, theMem-Sahib came--the white Mem-Sahib. We are poor men; we have nofault at all. "

Hamilton listened for a moment to the storm of words and protestingcries. Then he raised his hand and there was silence, but for asound of rising wind without and the sobbing of the natives. 

"Pir Bakhs, " he said to the head of them all, the butler, "tell meall you know. Your mistress is dead. Who is responsible?"

The butler came forward and fell at his master's feet with claspedhands. 

"Lord of the Earth, I know nothing but this. At five all was quietin the house, and our mistress sat in the garden singing. Thencame to the door two runners with a palanquin. They asked to seeour mistress. I said wait. I went to the garden. I said the whiteMem-Sahib has come in a palanquin. My mistress said, 'I will seeher. ' She went to the drawing-room, and the white Mem-Sahib camein, and they drank tea together. Your servant is a poor man, and hesaw no more till the runners went away with the palanquin. So wesaid, 'The white Mem-Sahib has gone, ' and my mistress said to meshe felt drowsy and must sleep, and went upstairs to the Light ofHeaven's room and shut the door. And your servant was laying thetable in your honour's dining-room a little later, and he went toclose the jillmills, [1] for the wind was rising, and your servantsaw through the jillmill the white Mem-Sahib again getting into herpalanquin that had appeared once more at the back, and the runnersran with it very fast into the desert; then your servant ran out toask the other servants why the white Mem-Sahib had come back, andthe ayah met him at the door and said she had found our mistresskilled in her room; and your honour's servant is a poor man, andhas wept ever since. "

[Footnote 1: Wooden shutters. ]

Hamilton listened in perfect silence. The man's face was lined withgrief, the tears rolled in streams down his livid cheeks. A wailwent up from the other servants at his words. Hamilton and hismistress were their idols, and his grief was very real tothemselves. 

Hamilton stretched out his hand to the trembling man with a benigngesture. 

"Pir Bakhs, I believe you. You have served me many years, and neverlied to me. This is another's work, not yours. Be at peace. Youhave no fault. "

The butler wept louder, and the others wailed with him, callingupon Heaven to bless their master and avenge their mistress. 

Hamilton turned from them to the dark dining-room, which he crossedto the hall; through this he walked in the darkness as a blind manwalks, to the entrance. 

He tore the wood-work door open, wrenching it from its hinges, andlooked out into the night. A dust-storm was raging in the desertbeyond the compound, and its stinging blasts of wind, laden withsand, drove heavily over the exquisite masses of bloom, theglorious and delicate scented blossoms of the garden. It tore offthe flowers remorselessly, and even for the moment he stood there, a rain of thin, white, shredded petals was flung into his face. Thebranches of the trees groaned and whined in the thick darkness, theswish of broken and bent bamboo came from all sides, the roar ofthe dust driven through the foliage filled his ears. The garden, the beautiful, sheltered garden, scene of their delights, was beingruthlessly destroyed, even as his life had been; it was expiring inagony, even as he would shortly expire: to-morrow it would bedesolate, a shattered wreck under the dust, even as he, in a littlewhile--But something should be done first. 

Leaving the doorway open, letting the dust-laden wind tearshrieking through the silent house, he plunged into the roaringdarkness. He took the centre path that led straight to the compoundgate. The unhappy bushes and tortured branches of the trees, bentand twisted by the onrushing wind, lashed his face and body as hewent down the path. He did not feel their stinging blows. On, on tothe desert he went blindly but steadily in the thick darkness. 

When he got beyond the compound gate, out of the shelter of thegarden, the weight of the wind almost bore him down; but as hefaced its blast, his eyes saw, not so very far, out on the plain, dull in the whirling mist, the dancing uncertain light of a carriedlantern. As the tiger darts forward on its prey, as the snakesprings to the attack, Hamilton leapt forward into the wall of windthat faced him and ran at the dancing light. 

Choked with sand, blinded, suffocated and breathless, but full ofpower to kill, he was on it at last, and flung himself with sinewyhands on the swaying, covered sedan chair, between the two bearers, who, bewildered and helpless in the sudden storm, were gropingslowly across the plain. With a shriek they dropped the handles, asHamilton flung himself suddenly on the chair; the lantern fell intothe sand and went out. The natives, thinking the devil, the actualspirit of the storm, had overtaken them, fled howling into theblackness, their cries swallowed up like whispers in the roar ofthe wind. As the chair struck the sand, the woman within thrust herhead with a cry through the open side. Hamilton seized it by theneck. Out! out of the sedan chair, through the burst-open door, hepulled the wretched creature by her head, and then flung her withall his force upon the sand. 

The raging wind swept past them in sheets of dust, bellowing as itwent. He knelt on her body; his hands ground into her neck. Throughthe darkness he saw beneath him the thin, white oval of the face, with its eyes bulging, starting out of the head, its lips writhingin agony; two white hands beat helplessly in the black air besidehim. He looked hard into her eyes, bending down to her close, verynear, as his hands sank deeper into her neck, his fingers lockedmore tightly round it. In a few seconds the light of the eyes wentout, the hands ceased to beat the air. Saidie was avenged. With alaugh that rang out into the noise of the storm, the man got upfrom the limp body and stood by it, in the echoing darkness. Thenhe kicked it, so that it rolled over, and the sand came up inwaves eager to bury it. 

In an hour woman, sedan chair, lantern would all be beneath a levelplain of sand. 

He turned back towards the bungalow. "Saidie, " he murmured, and thestorm-wind seemed to rave "Saidie!" "Saidie!" round him, to whirlthe name upwards to the dim stars, glimmering one here and there, far off and veiled in the heavens. He went back; the wind helpedhim. On its wings he seemed borne back to his house, through thetortured garden, through the gaping doorway, over the shattereddoor he passed, and then up the stairs to their room. 

After the inferno of the desert the inside of the house seemedquiet, and in their room the lamps burned steadily, but low. Theiroil was used up, their life, like his, was nearly done. The bedstood there and on its calm white stillness lay Saidie, waiting forhim, for him alone, as always. 

He went up to her and stood there. 

"Saidie?" but she did not answer. He lay down beside her gently, soas not to break her slumber, and then drew her to his breast. Ahhis treasure! his world! Surely now all was well since she wassafe in his arms! He did not feel the deathly coldness. There was awhizzing in his brain where Nature had laid her finger on a vein, and broken it that he might be released from sorrow and die. 

"Saidie?" he murmured again as her breast pressed his, and put hislips to hers. 

As his life had first dawned in her kiss, so it went back now tothe lips that had given it, and in that kiss he died. 

II

There was complete silence in the large room, filled with long, wavering shadows that the flickering firelight chased over thewalls and amongst the gilt-edged tables. 

Beyond the windows the dusk was gathering quickly in the wind-sweptstreet, beneath the leaden sky. From the pane nearest the fire aside-light fell across a man's figure leaning against the corner ofthe mantel-shelf. A ruddy glow from the hearth struck upon the silkskirt of a girl leaning back in the easy-chair beneath the othercorner. 

Her face is lost in the shadow. 

He is a good-looking fellow, very. The high white collar that showsup in the dusk is fastened round a long, well-set neck; the figurein the blue serge suit is straight and pleasing, and the shoulderserect and slim. 

The girl's eyes, looking out of the shadow, take in these points, and the pleasure they give her seems inextricably confused withdull pain. Her gaze passes on to his face, and rests eagerly, almost thirstily, upon it. 

There is light enough still to show her its well-cut oval, spoilednow by the haggard falling in of the cheeks, the lines in theforehead, and the swellings beneath the eyes. 

He shifts his position a little and glances through the window. Hiseyes are full of irritation, and the girl knows it, though they areturned from her. She gives a suppressed, inaudible sigh; hisattitude now brings out the impatient discontent on his mouth andthe rigid determination of the chin. 

"I suppose you mean two people can live upon nothing?" His voice iscold, even hostile, and he speaks apparently to the panes, but thetones are well-bred and pleasing; and again the girl wonders dimlywhich is the predominating sensation in her--pleasure or pain. 

"No, " she says, in rather a suffocated voice. "But I say, if eitherperson has enough, or the two together, it does not matter whichhas it, or which has the most. "

Silence, which her hesitating, timid voice breaks at last. 

"Does it?"

"Yes, I think it does, " he answered shortly. "The man must haveenough to support both, or he has no right to marry at all. "

The girl's hands lock themselves together convulsively, unseenbehind her slight waist, laced so skilfully into the fashionablebodice. 

There is a hard decision in the incisive tones that does not belongto the mere expression of a general theory--a cold authority and aweight of personal conviction that turns the words into a statementof rigid principle. 

The girl feels almost dizzy, and she closes her hot eyelidssuddenly to shut out the line of that hard, obstinate chin. 

"People's ideas on what is enough to support both vary so much, "she says quietly, with well-bred indifference in her tone, whileher heart beats wildly as she waits for his next remark. 

"Well, what would you consider enough yourself?" he says coldly, after a slight pause, turning a little more towards her. 

The red light glows steadily on her skirts, and he can see thegraceful outline of her knees under them, and one small foot uponthe hearthrug; the rest of the form is veiled in the shadow, exceptone rounded line of a shoulder and the glint of light hair above. 

He looks down at her, and there seems a sudden, nervous expansionin his frame; outwardly there is not the faintest impatientmovement. He waits quietly for her reply. 

The girl hesitates as she looks at him. To her, in her absorbinglove for the man before her, the question is an absurd mockery. 

To reduce to a certain number of pounds this "enough, " when for heranything or nothing would be enough!

"I would rather starve to death in your arms than live another daywithout you, " is the current running under all her thoughts, and itconfuses them and makes it difficult for her to speak. 

What shall she answer? To name a sum too small in his eyes willbe as great an error as to name one too large. He would onlythink her a silly, sentimental girl, who knows nothing of whatshe is talking about, and who has no knowledge and appreciationof the responsibilities of life. 

Besides, to name a very small income will be to conjure up beforehis eyes the picture of a mean, pitiful, sordid existence, fromwhich she feels, with painful distinctness, he would turn withdisgust. 

Poor? Yes, he has told her that he is poor, and she believes it;but somehow--by contracting debt, probably--she thinks, as herkeen, observant eyes sweep over him, he manages at present to liveand dress as a gentleman. 

Those well-cut suits, those patent shoes and expensive cigarettes;these things, she feels instinctively, must be preserved for him, or any form of life would lose its charm. 

At the same time, she must mention something that is not hopelesslybeyond him. She recalls her own two hundred; surely, at the least, he must be making one. 

"I can hardly say, " she murmured at last, "because personally Ithink one can live on so very little; but I suppose most peoplewould say--well, about three hundred pounds a year. "

"Oh! three hundred a year, " he says, stretching out his hand forthe tea-cup on a low table beside him. The tea has grown cold inthe discussion of abstract questions. He takes the cup and sitsdown deliberately in the corner of the couch opposite her, andstirs the tea slowly. 

"How much is that a week? Five pounds fifteen, isn't it? Well, now, go on, see what you can make of it. Your house--the smallest--andservants--"

"House and servants!" interrupts the girl, "but why have a houseand servants at all?"

"I don't know, " he rejoins curtly, "because the girl generallyexpects those things when she marries. "

"Not all girls, " she says, and one seems to hear the smile withwhich she says it in her voice. 

"You mean rooms?" he says quickly, with a gleam of pleasurebreaking for a moment across his face. 

"Well--say rooms--you would want three--thirty shillings, Isuppose, at the least, and then another thirty for board. Thatleaves two fifteen for everything else. "

"Surely that's a good deal. "

"Oh, I don't know; think of one's clothes, " and Stephen staresmoodily into the fire, with a pricking recollection of a tailor'sbill for twenty odd in his drawer at home now. 

Then, to remove the impression of selfish extravagance he feels hemay have given, he adds:

"And a man wants to give his wife some amusement, and three hundreda year leaves nothing for that. "

"Amusement!" the girl repeats, starting up and standing upright, with one elbow just touching the mantelpiece, and the firelightflooding her figure from the slim waist downwards. "What amusementdoes a woman want if she is in love with the man she is livingwith? The man himself is her amusement! To watch him when he isoccupied, to wait for him when he is away, to nurse him when he isill--that is her amusement: she does not want any other!"

Stephen stares at the flexible form, and listens to the words thathe would admire, only the cynical suspicion is in his mind that sheis talking for effect. His general habit was to consider all womenmercenary and untrustworthy. Deep in his heart--for he had a heart, though contracted from want of use--lay a hungry desire to beloved, really loved for himself; and the very keenness of thelonging, and the anxiety not to be deceived, lessened his powers ofpenetration, and blinded him to the girl's character. 

He laughs slightly. "You are taking a theatrical view of the wholething!"

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, well, that the wife really loves her husband and sticks to himthrough everything, and they pass through unheard-of difficultiestogether, and so on"; but he adds, with a faint yawn: "I've alwaysnoticed that when the money goes the love disappears too. There'sno love where there's abject poverty. "

"But three hundred a year is not abject poverty, " answers the girlin a quiet tone, not denying his theory for fear of being calledagain theatrical. 

"No, " he admits. "Oh, it might do very well as long as there wereonly two; but then, when there are children, it means a nurse, andall sorts of expenses. "

He says the words with a simplicity and directness that makes thegirl almost catch her breath. For these two were not on intimateterms with each other, not even terms of intimate speaking. 

Nothing had passed between them yet but the merest society phrases, and before a certain quiet dinner one month back neither knew ofthe other's existence. Since then some chance meetings on thebeach, the parade, the pier, a few long afternoon rows, betweenthen and now: these are the only nourishment the flame in eitherbreast has received--a flame kindled in a few long glances acrossthe dinner-table. 

But this afternoon he has laid aside the customary phrases anddeliberately commenced the present conversation. 

True, it is purely an abstract one--all theory and hypotheses. Noone could say otherwise if it were repeated. Not a personal wordhas been uttered on either side; but the girl feels in thedetermined tone of his voice, in the studied way he started it, inthe cold precision with which he follows it, that it is practicallya test conversation of herself, and that she is virtually passingthrough an examination. 

He has come this afternoon with a set of certain questions that hemeans to put, to all of which her answers are received withoutcomment, and mentally noted down. 

He neither repeats himself, nor presses a point, nor leaves outanything on his mental list, nor allows any remark to lead awayfrom it. 

He has also certain things he means to say, which he will say, ashe asks his questions, deliberately, one after the other; and then, when he has heard and said all he intends, he will terminate theconversation as decisively as he began it and go. The girl feelsall this, for her brain is as clear and keen as the glance of hereyes. 

She knows that he is testing her: that she stands upon trial beforehim. 

She has nothing to hide: only, that too great love and devotion, that seems to swell and swell irrepressibly within her, and wouldpour itself out in words to him, but that his tone, his manner, his look keep it back absolutely, as a firm hand holds down therising cork upon the exuberant wine. And now, at this sentenceof his, her words fail her. They are strangers practically, thatis conventionally--quite strangers, she remembers confusedly--butfor this secret bond of passion, knit up between them, which bothcan feel but both ignore. 

The natural male in him, and the natural female in her, arealready, as it were, familiar, but the fashionable man and girl arestrangers still. 

Then, now, how is she to say what she wishes to him? How can shetalk with this mere acquaintance upon this subject? The very word"children" seems to scorch her lips. At the same time, familiaritywith him seems natural and unnatural; terrible, and yet simple. 

Then, too, what are his views?

Will her next words shock him inexpressibly?

In her passionate, excitable brain, inflamed with love for the man, the idea of maternity can merely present itself like an unwelcome, grey-clad Quaker at a banquet. 

She hesitates, choosing her words. She knows so little of the manin front of her. His clothes, she sees, are of the newest cut, buthis notions may not be. 

At last her soft, weak, timid voice breaks the pause. 

"Do you think it necessary to have very large families?"

"No, I don't, " he answers instantly with the energy and alacrity ofone who is glad to express his opinion. "No, I don't, not at all. "

The girl's suspended breath is drawn again. Unlike himself in hisqueries she presses her point home. 

"Don't you think those marriages are the happiest where there areno children?"

"Yes, " he says decidedly, getting up and thrusting his hands intohis coat pockets. "Yes, I do--much the happiest. "

There is silence. It is too dark for either to see the other'sexpression. He stands irresolutely for a minute or two, and thensays with a disagreeable laugh:

"I should hate my own children! Fancy coming home and finding a lotof children crying and screaming in the place. "

To this the girl says nothing, and Stephen, after a minute'sreflection, softens his words. 

"Besides, your wife's love, when she has children, is all given tothem. "

"Yes, " murmurs her well-bred voice. "Oh, yes, one is happierwithout them. "

Neither speak. They are agreed so far; there is a deep relief andpleasure in the breast of each. 

"Well, " he says at last, rousing himself, "I must go. I shall belate for dinner. "

The girl leans down and stirs the fire into a leaping, yellowblaze. It fills the room with light, and reveals them fully now toeach other. 

She makes no effort to detain him, and they look at each other, about to part. 

The self-control of each is marvellous, and admirable for its merethoroughness and completeness. 

He has large eyes, and they stare down at her haggardly, as hestands facing her in the light. The hungry, hopeless look in thoseeyes and the drawn lines in his face go to the girl's heart, and toherself it seems literally melting into one warm flood of sympathy. 

Ill! he looks ill and wretched, and she longs with a longing thatpresses upon her, till it is like a physical agony, to give someway to her feelings. 

"Dearest, my dearest!" she is thinking, "if I might only tellyou--even a little--"

And Stephen stares at the soft face and warm lips, half-paralyzedwith desire to bend down and kiss them. How would a kiss be? howwould they--And so there is a momentary, barely perceptible pause, filled with a painful intensity of feeling, to which neither givesway one hair's breadth. Then he gives a curt laugh. 

"We have discussed rather a difficult problem and not settled it, "he says in a conventional tone. 

"It seems to me quite simple, " murmurs the girl, with a throat sodry that the words are hardly audible. 

He hears, but makes no reply beyond another slight laugh, as heholds out his hand. The girl puts hers into it. There is a moderatepressure only on either side, and then he goes out and shuts thedoor, leaving the girl standing motionless--all the warm springsin her heart frozen by his last cynical laugh. 

Brookes finds his way down the stairs, through the unlighted hall, and lets himself out in the chill October air. 

He goes down the street feeling a confused sense of havinginflicted pain and left distress behind him, but his own sensationof irritation, his own vexation and angry resentment against hislot in life, all but obliterate it. 

For some seconds he walks on with all his thoughts merged togetherin a mere desperate and painful confusion. "Only a hundred a year!"is his plainest, most bitter reflection. "Five-and-twenty, and onlyearning a hundred a year!"

Brookes is not of a calm temperament. His nervous system is tenselystrung, and generally, owing to various incidental matters, slightly out of tune, or at anyrate, feels so. 

His circulation is rapid, every pulse beats strongly, and the bloodflows hotly in his veins. 

His mental nature is of much the same order--passionate, excitable, and impatient; but there is such a heavy curb-rein of controlperpetually upon it, that its three leading qualities jar inwardlyupon himself more than they show to outsiders. 

Even now the confused, excited disorder in his brain is soonregulated and calmed by his will, and as he walks on he lapses intotrying to recollect whether he has said all he meant to. 

He concludes that he has, and a certain satisfaction comes overhim. 

"Well, I have told her my views now, " he reflects. "She sees what Ithink, and what my principles are. She won't wonder that I saynothing. I shall try for another post and a rise of salary, andthen--"

Stephen's character was a fine one in its way. The capacity forself-command and self-denial was tremendous, his sense of honourkeen, his adherence to that which he conceived the rightinflexible, his will immutable; but of the subtler sweetness ofthe human heart he had none. 

Of sympathy, the divine [Greek: sym, pathos], _the suffering with_, he had not the vaguest conception: of its faint and poorreflections, pity and mercy, he had but a dim idea. 

He stuck as well as he could to what he thought was the rightpath, and as to the feelings of others, he could not be blamed fornot considering them, for he had never practically realized thatthey had any. 

In the present circumstances he had a few, fine, adamantine rulesfor conduct, which he was going to steadfastly apply, and hethought no more of the girl's feelings under them than one thinksof the inanimate parcel one is cording with what one knows is good, stout string. 

In his eyes it was distinctly dishonourable for a man to engage agirl to himself without a reasonably near prospect of marriage. 

It was also decidedly ungentlemanly to propose to a girl if she hadmoney and you had none. Moreover, it was extremely selfish toremove a girl from a comfortable position to a poorer one, thoughshe might positively swear she preferred it; and lastly, it wasunwise for various reasons, to be too amiable to the girl, or togive any but the dimmest clue to your own feelings. 

There was no telling--your feelings might change even--when youhave to wait so long--and then it was much better, _for the girl_, that she should not be tied to you. 

To visit the girl frequently, to hang about her to the amusement ofonlookers, to keep alive her passion by look and hint and innuendo, to excite her by advances when he was in the humour, and studiouslyrepulse her when she made any, to act almost as if he were her_fiancé_, and curtly resent it if she ever assumed he was more thanan ordinary friend--this line of action he saw no fault in. Theabove were his views, and they were excellent, and if the girldidn't understand them she might do the other thing. 

Some weeks passed, and the man and the girl saw each otherconstantly--three or four times in the week, perhaps more; and theinward irritation grew intense, while their outward relationsremained unchanged. 

There was a certain brutality that crept into the man's tonesoccasionally when he addressed her, a certain savage irritabilityin manner, that told the girl's keen intelligence something; someinvoluntary sighs of hers as she sat near him, and an increasinglook of exhaustion on her face, that told him something. But thatwas all. 

There were no tender passages between them; none of theconventional English flirting--matters were too serious, and thenature of each too violent to permit of that. A little bitter, more or less hostile, conversation passed between them on themost trifling subjects in his long afternoon calls. A littlemusic would be attempted--that is, he would sing song after song, while she accompanied him, but a song was rarely completed. Generally, before or at the middle, he would seize the music in agust of irrepressible and barely-veiled irritability, and flingit on the piano--yet they attempted the music with unwaveringpersistence, and both rose to go to the instrument with mutualalacrity. 

There they were close to each other--so close that the warmth andbreath of their beings were interchanged. There in the pursuit of afallen sheet of music, his head bent down and touched hers. Once, apparently to regain the leaf, his hand and arm leaned hard uponher lap. One second, perhaps, no more; but the girl's wholestrained system seemed breaking up at the touch--her controlshattered, like machinery violently reversed. 

The music leaf was replaced, but her hands had fallen nervelessfrom the keys. 

"It is hot. I can't go on playing. Put the window open, will you, for me?"

Stephen walked to the window, raised it, and smiled into the dark. 

That night it seemed to Stephen he could never force himself toleave the girl. He prolonged the playing past all reasonablelimits, until May's sister laughingly reminded him that they wereonly staying in seaside lodgings, and other occupants of the housemust be considered. Stephen reluctantly relinquished the friendlypiano, and then stood, with May's sweet figure beside him, and herupraised face clear to the side vision of his eye, talking to hersister. 

At last, when every trifle is exhausted of which he can makeconversation, there comes a pause, a silence; he can think ofnothing more. He nerves himself, holds out his hand, and says, "Good-night!"

May, influenced equally by the same indomitable aversion to beseparated from him, follows him outside the drawing-room, andanother pause is made on the stair. By this time a fresh stock ofchaff and light wit is ready in Stephen's brain, and he makes useof anything and everything to procure him another moment at herside; but of all the passion within him, of the ardent, impetuousimpulse towards her, nothing, not the faintest trace, shows. 

A mere "Good-night!" ends their conversation at length, and thegirl did not re-enter the drawing-room, but passed straight up thestairs to her own room. 

"Does he care? Does he care or not?" she asked herself, walkingceaselessly backwards and forwards. "If I only knew that he did!This is killing me; and suppose, after all, he does not care!"

She almost reels in her walk, and then stretches her arms out onher mantelpiece, and leans her head heavily upon them. 

"So this is being in love!" she thinks, with a faint satiricalsmile. "All this anxiety and pain and feeling of illness! Why, itis as if poison had been poured through me. "

Through the next day May lay pallid and silent on the couch, without pretence of occupation, feeling too exhausted even torespond to her sister's chaff and raillery. 

It was only at dinner, when her brother-in-law informed his wife hewas sick of the place, and that nothing would induce him to staymore than another week, that a stain of scarlet colour appeared inMay's cheeks and a terrified dilation in her eyes. 

Her lids were lowered directly, and the blood receded again. Shemade no remark, but at the close of dinner she excused herself, andwent upstairs alone. 

Once in her room, she stripped off her dinner-dress and shoes, andre-dressed in morning things. Her hands trembled so violently thatshe could hardly fasten her bodice over the wildly-expanding bosom. 

But her resolve was fixed. They were going in a week. To-morrow, she knew, Stephen was leaving the place for a fortnight. She mustsee him to-night. 

When she is completely dressed, she pauses for a moment to chokedown the terrible physical excitement that seems to rob her ofbreath and muscular power. 

Then she passes downstairs quietly and goes out. 

The night is still, cold, and dark. 

May walks rapidly through the few streets that divide his house andhers. 

The few men she meets turn involuntarily to glance after thesplendid form that goes by them, and in her decisive walk, in theeyes blind to them, they feel instinctively she is already owned, mentally or actually, by some one other. 

When she reaches Stephen's house, she learns he is in, and with agreat fear of him suddenly rushing over her, she sends word up tohim by the servant: Will he see her?

While she waits in the hall, her message is taken upstairs. Mayleans against the wall, a terrible sick faintness, born ofexcitement and hysteria, coming suddenly upon her. 

There is a hall-chair, but her eyes are too darkened to see it; shesimply clings to the handle of the door, and lets her head sinkagainst the side of the passage. 

Brookes is upstairs with his brother and two friends; they havebeen playing cards, but a game is just over, and the men have gotup to stretch themselves. 

Stephen himself is leaning back against the mantelpiece, as hishabit is, and yawning slightly. He has just been beaten, and he isa man who can't play a losing game. 

"No, " his brother remarks. "I didn't know what the deuce 'Ladas'meant till I looked it up; did you, Steve?"

"Oh, I should think every schoolboy would know that, " is the curtresponse, and at that moment the servant's knock comes at the door. 

"Please, sir, there's a lady as wants to see you, " the girl sayswith a perceptible grin. "She said she wouldn't come up, and she'swaiting in the hall, sir. "

There is a blank silence in the room. Brookes pales suddenly, andhis eyebrows, that habitually have a supercilious elevation, risestill higher with annoyance. 

He hesitates a single second, then, without a word in reply, hecrosses the room towards the door, and the servant retreatshastily. 

The men glance furtively at each other, but Stephen's devil of atemper being well known, they forbear to laugh or even smile tillhe is well out of the room. Brookes goes down the stairs with onesentence only in his mind: Coming to my rooms, and making a foolof me!

He is annoyed, intensely annoyed, and that is his sole feeling. 

May is standing upright now in the centre of the hall under theswinging lamp, and she watches him run lightly down the long flightof stairs towards her with swimming eyes. 

What is there in that figure of his that has so much influence onher senses? More, perhaps, even than his face, do the lines of hisneck and shoulders and their carriage please her. All the pleasureshe can ever realise in life seems contained for her in that slim, well-made frame, in its blue serge suit. 

She makes one impetuous step forward, her whole form dominated, impelled by the surge of ardent feelings within her, and holds outone trembling, burning hand. Stephen, with a confused sense of itsbeing awfully bad form that she should be standing in his hall, takes it in his right hand, feeling hastily for the lucifers withhis left. 

"Er--come into the dining-room, won't you?" he says, with thefamiliar, supercilious accent that with him is the expression ofsuppressed annoyance and slight embarrassment. 

He knows the rooms are unlet, and with gratitude for thisprovidential circumstance in his thoughts, and his heart beatingviolently with sudden excitement now he is actually in herpresence, he turns the handle of the door and sets it wide open. 

He strikes a match and holds it up, leaning back against the door, for her to pass in before him. 

As she does so, their two figures for one second almost touch eachother, and a sudden glow lights up in his veins. He feels it, andit warns him instantly to summon his self-control. That beforeeverything. 

The next moment he follows her into the room, lights the gas, returns to the door, closes it, and then comes back towards the rugwhere she is standing. 

By this time his command is his own. His face is as calm as a mask. His large eyes, somewhat bloodshot now from hours of smoking and asleepless night, rest upon her with cold enquiry. 

She has seen them once, met them once, fixed, liquid, withpassionate longing upon hers; desperately she seeks in them now forone gleam of the same light, but there is none. They and his faceare cloaked in a cold reserve. Sick, and with her heart beating tosuffocation, she says, as he waits for her to explain her presence:

"We are--going away. "

Stephen's heart seems to contract at the words he had so oftendreaded to hear, heard at last. 

His thoughts take a greyer hopelessness. 

"Oh, really!" he says merely, the shock he feels only slightlyintensifying his habitual drawl. "Not immediately, I hope?"

Nothing to the nervous, excited, over-strained girl before himcould be more galling, more humiliating, more crushing than thecold, conventional politeness of his tones and words. 

This frightful fence of Society manner that he will put betweenthem--a slight, delicate defence, is as effectual as if he caused aprecipice by magic to yawn between them. 

"No--not--not--quite immediately, but soon, " she falters. "And itseems as if I could not exist if--I--never see you. "

There is a strained pause while they stand facing each other. Heis motionless; one hand rests in his pocket, the other hangsnerveless at his side. 

They look at each other. Each is thinking of the supremedelight--even if momentary--the other's embrace could give if--butthe conditions in the respective minds are different--in his: "If Ithought it wise;" in hers: "If he only would. "

"Well, we can write to each other, " he says at last. 

"Oh, but what are letters?" the girl says passionately; and then, urged on hard by her love for him, her intuition of his love forher, and her common-sense instinct not to throw away her life'shappiness for a misunderstanding or petty feeling of pride, sheadds: "You know--don't you?--that I care for you more than anythingelse in the world. "

Her tones are sharp with the intensity of feeling, and shestretches both hands imploringly a little way towards him. 

He sees them quiver and her face whiten, and the frightened appealincrease in her pained eyes searching his face, and it is amarvel--later, he marvels at it himself--how, with his own passionkeen and alive in him, he maintains his ground. But there issomething in the whole scene that jars upon him--somethingtheatrical that makes the thought flash upon him: Is it a got-upthing?

This puts him on the defensive directly; besides, he resents hercoming to him in this way, and endeavouring to surprise from himwords he has already explained to her he is unwilling to say. 

She is trying to rush him, he puts it to himself; and the thoughtrouses all his own obstinacy and self-will. 

When he chooses he will speak, and not before. 

"It is very good of you to say so, " he answers quietly, in a coldformal tone, and the girl quivers as if he had struck her. 

Now, in his lonely, sleepless nights, the misery on the white facecomes back and back to him in the darkness of his room, but then heis blind to it. 

In an annoyed mood to begin with, irritated beyond bearing by hisown helpless, ignominious position, as he fancies, he has noperception left for his own danger of losing her. 

And the man, who had lived till five-and-twenty, desiring reallove, and not knowing it, deliberately trampled upon it withoutrecognising what he did. 

His words cut the girl terribly. 

It seems impossible for the second that she can force herself tospeak again to him, but the terrible, irrepressible longing withinher nerves her for one more effort. 

"Is that all you can tell me? Do you not care for me at all?"

He looks at her and hesitates. So modest, so appealing, so timid, and yet so passionate! Surely this is genuine love for him. Whythrust it back? But the thought recurs. No. She is rushing him; andhe declines to be rushed. Also a sort of half-embarrassment comesover him, a nervous instinct to put off, ward off a scene in whichhe will be called upon to demonstrate feelings he may not satisfy. 

He laughs slightly, and says:

"Of course I do! I like you very much!"

The tones are slighting and contemptuous, enough so to conveythe polite warning: Don't go any further, and force me to bepositively rude to you. 

Swayed by his strong physical passion, and blinded by the doggeddetermination he has to remain master of it, he is absolutelyinsensible of another's suffering. 

Had the girl had greater experience with men, more hardihood andless modesty; if she could have approached him, and taken his handsand pressed them to her bosom; if she had had the courage to forceupon him the mysterious influence of physical contact, Stephen'scontrol would have melted in the kindled fire. 

Words stir the brain, and through the brain, the senses; but withsome people it's a long way round. 

Touch stirs the nerves, and its flame runs through the body like aflying pain. 

Stephen's physical nerves were far more sensitive than his brain, and had the girl been a woman of the half-world, or even of theworld, she could have succeeded. But she was a girl; and hermodesty and innocence, the chastity of all her mental and physicalbeing, hung like dead weights upon her in the encounter. 

His words, his tones, his glance simply paralyze her--notfiguratively, but positively. Her physical power to move towardshim, to make a further appeal to him, is gone. Speech is dried uponher lips, wiped from them as a handkerchief passed over them mighttake their moisture. 

She looks at him, dumb, frenzied with the intense longing to throwherself actually at his feet, but yet held back by someirresistible power she cannot comprehend, any more than one cancomprehend the stifling, overpowering force in a nightmare. 

It is the simple result of her life, her breeding, her virtue, hercharacter, her habits of control and reserve. She is thefashionable, well-brought-up girl, with all her sensitive instinctsin revolt against forcing herself upon a man indifferent to her, and full of an overwhelming instinctive timidity that her desire iswild to break down and cannot. 

She stares at him, lost in a sense of bitter pain. All her vigorouslife seems wrung with pain, and in that torture, in which everynerve seems bruised and quivering, a faint smile twists at last thepale, trembling lips. "You would have made a good vivisector!" shesays. Then, before he has time to answer, she turns the handle ofthe door behind her, opens it and goes out. 

A second after the street door closes, and Stephen stands on thedining-room mat, looking down the empty hall. Thoroughly disturbedand excited, with all his own passion surging heavily through hisblood, and her last sentence--that he does not understand any morethan he understands his own cruelty--ringing in his ears, hehesitates a minute, and then re-enters the dining-room, shuts tothe door, and walks savagely up and down. 

"Extraordinary girl!" he mutters. "What does she want? What can Ido? She knows I can say nothing at present, when I'm going into thework-house myself! But what a splendid creature she is! Lots of'go' in her. Well, I don't care. I'll have her one day; but there'sno use making a lot of talk about it now. "

May walked away from his doorstep, no longer a sane human being, responsible for its actions. The whole physical, nervous system, weakened by months of self-control, and night following night ofsleeplessness, was hopelessly dislocated now. 

The whole weight of her excited passion, flung back upon thesensitive brain, turned it from its balance. It had been abrilliant brain, and that very excitability that had lent itsbrilliance was fatal to it now. 

The hopeless passion ran like a corroding poison through theinflammable tissue. 

She had put the matter to the test, and found that truth of whichthe mere possibility had been torture. He had absolutely rejectedher. "He could not care for me, " she kept repeating, as the silentair round her seemed full of his cold, short laughs. 

His passion for her was dead. It had existed, surely--those looksof his, the sudden violence of his touch when there was any excusefor the slightest contact with her--or had it all been some curiousdream?

She could not tell now, but whether it had been or not, it was nolonger. To her that seemed the only explanation of his words andtones. To the tender female nature the depth of brutality in thepassion of the male--that is, in fact, the very sign of it--remainsalways an enigma. 

After the scene just passed, it seemed to the girl impossible, ludicrous, to suppose that Stephen loved her. 

She had already made great allowance for him. She had a large shareof the gift of her sex--intuition; and she had understood more thanmany women would have done, but to-night he had gone beyond thelimits of her imagination. 

"No man would be so intensely unkind to a woman he cared for, " sheargued. "For nothing, when there is no need. "

She was not an unreasonable, nor selfish, nor silly girl. HadStephen told her he loved her, but that they must suppress theirpassion, that she must wait, she would have obeyed him, and waitedmonths, years, gone down to her grave waiting, in patient fidelityto him. Her qualities of control were as fine as his, and herdevotion to a man who loved her would have been limitless, but, acting according to his views, Stephen had taken some trouble toconvince her he was not the man, and she was convinced. 

And being convinced, the vision of her life without him seemed justthen a dismal waste, impossible to face. 

In most of the actions of the human being, the physical state ofthe person at the time is the principal factor, and May's wholephysical frame, violently over-strained, craved for rest--rest thatthe excited brain could not give. Rest was the urgent demandpressed by the breaking nervous system, and from these twothoughts--rest, oblivion--grew the dangerous thought of Death. 

"Sleep and forget! but I can't, " she thought, "and if I do, thereis the horrible awakening;" and again her fatigue suggested all thepast sleepless nights, and the craving of the body urged the brainto find better means of satisfying it, in the same way as theappetite for food forces the brain to devise methods for procuringit. 

She walked on in a straight line from Stephen's house, and the roadhappened to pass a post-office. May stopped and looked absentlythrough its lighted, notice-covered panes. 

"Send him a few lines, " she thought; "because I am so stupid, Icould not tell him enough, and then--"

She did not finish the sentence, but all beyond was blank peace. She went in, bought a letter-card, and wrote:--

 "I could have loved you devotedly, intensely, had you wished it, but you have made it clear to-night that you do not want love--at any rate, not mine. I have discovered that I have courage enough to die, but not to live without you. I am going to the sea now, and in an hour we shall be separated for ever. I shall know nothing and you will care nothing, so it seems a good arrangement. My last thought will be of you, my last desire for you, my last breath your name. "

She fastened it with an untrembling hand, passed out of the office, posted it, and went straight down a side street to the parade. 

The night was still, bound in a frosty silence. The temperaturesank momentarily, and the icy grip intensified in the air. Overhead the sky was black, and glittered coldly with the winterstars. Beside and behind her and before her not a livingcreature's footstep broke the silence. The sea lay smooth, black, and motionless on her left, like some huge sleeping monster. 

She walked on rapidly: a glorious, vigorous, living, youthfulfigure, full of that tremendous activity of brain and pulse andblood, so valuable when there is a use for it, so dangerous whenthrown back upon itself. 

"How I could have loved him, worshipped him, lived for him, had hebut wanted me!" is the one instinctive cry of her whole nature. 

At the first easy descent to the beach she turns from the parade, and goes down, passing without hesitation from the light down tothe moist darkness of the beach. To get away into oblivion, toescape from this maddening sense of pain, to lose it, let it gofrom her like a garment in the black water, is her only impellinginstinct. 

She sees the glimmer of the water before her without a shudder. Howmuch dearer and more inviting it seems to her tired eyes than herbed at home, where so many, many sleepless, anguished nights havebeen spent! Here--rest and sleep, with no awakening to a grey andbarren to-morrow. The thought of Death is lost. Desire for thecessation of pain is keener at its height than even the desire forlife. 

She stumbles on the wet, black beach at the water's edge, and thenfinds where it is slipping like oil over the sand. 

She walks forward, and the chill of the water rises round herankles, then her knees, then her waist, and then she throws herselfface forwards on it, as she once thought to fling herself on hisbreast. 

In a half-drunken satisfaction she stretches her arms out in it andcommences to swim towards the horizon. "Like his arms!" she thinks, as the water encircles her. "Like his lips!" she thinks, as itpresses on her throat. "And as cold as his nature. "

 * * * * *

The following morning is calm and still--a perfect specimen ofwintry beauty. A light frost covers the ground and sparkles on thetrees. 

There is a faint chill in the clear air, a tranquil calm on thegently rising and falling sea and in the lucid sky. 

The sunlight falling on Stephen's bed and across his sleeping faceshows a smile there, and his arm, lying on the coverlet--an armthinned by constant fever and night-sweats--rests, in his thoughts, round her neck; that white neck so sweetly familiar in his dreams. 

After a time he wakes and yawns, and turns his head heavily towardsthe window; and farther as the happy unconsciousness of sleeprecedes from his face, and recollection and intelligence come backto it, more clearly show the haggard lines, traced all over it, ofself-repression, seaming and marking it at five-and-twenty. 

"Another day to be got through, " he thinks merely, as Nature's mostprecious gift--the light--pours glowing through the panes. 

When half-an-hour later he opens his door to take in his boots, hefinds two letters with them, and at the sight of one his heartbeats hard. 

The other is in the girl's handwriting, and he lays it on histoilet-table, with the thought, "Asking me to go and see her, Isuppose, " and turns to the other with a mad impatience. 

This is evidently the official letter with reference to hispost--the post that means to him but this one thing: herpossession. 

He bursts it open, and in less than two seconds his eye takes inits news: he has the appointment. 

The blood leaps over his face, and an exultant fire runs throughhis frame and along his veins. 

He replaces the letter quietly in its cover with but the slightesttremor of his fingers. 

Then he gets up from the bedside and stands in the middle of theroom, looking through the sparkling panes. 

"I have her!" he is thinking. "Yes, by God! at last I have her!"

The day is glorified; life is transfigured. 

Through his whole body mounts that boundless exhilaration of desireon the point of satisfaction. Not momentary desire, easily andrecently awakened, but the long desire that has been goaded andbaited to fury through weeks and months of repression, and temperedto a terrible acuteness in pain and suffering, like steel by flame. 

And now triumph, and a delight beyond expression, bounds like anelectrified pulse throughout all his strong, vigorous frame. 

The lines seem to fade from his face, the mouth relaxes, and thenhe laughs, as he makes a step towards the window, flings it open, and leans out into the keen air. 

"At last I can speak out decently. No one could think I cared forher money, or any of that rot now. How unexpected!--this morning!Now I can tell her I'm free, independent! I am glad I waited--itwas much better. Far better, as I said, to be patient. Last night Ialmost--and now I'm very glad I didn't. "

He draws his head back, and turns to the glass to shave with alight heart. 

As he does so, he sees her letter again, and picks it up. "Youdarling!" he thinks, "I'll make you understand all now. "

Some miles westward of the pier, some fathoms deep, out of reach ofthe quiet sunlight lying on the surface, tosses the girl's body, senseless and pulseless, with all the million possibilities ofpleasure that filled those keen nerves and supple limbs gone out ofthem for ever, and Stephen draws out her despairing letter ofeternal farewell, with a smile lighting up his handsome, pleasingface. 

"Yes, it was much better to wait, " he murmurs, "I don't approve ofrushing things!"

III

CHAPTER I

It was morning on the Blue Nile. The turbulent blue river rolledjoyously between its banks, for it was high Nile, and a swift, light breeze was blowing--the companion of the Dawn. The vault ofthe sky seemed arched at a great height above the earth, springingclearly, without any object to break the line from the horizon ofgold sand, and full of those white, filmy, light-filled gleamingclouds that are one of the wonders and glories of Upper Egypt andthe Soudan. It was a morning and a scene to make a man's heart risehigh in his breast, and cry out, as his eyes turned from thelevel-sanded desert floor, through sunlit space, to the vaultedroof, "After all, the world is a good house to live in. "

Slowly the strong yellow sunlight poured over the plain, the bankand the river, gilding every ripple; and, as the light grew, hundreds of delicate shapes--the forms of the ibis and flamingoand crane, and other river-fowl--became visible, crowding down thedark banks, with flapping of white and crimson wings, andstretching of legs, and opening of beaks, rustling down, shakingtheir feathers, to bathe and drink of the Blue River. 

Wonderful light, and miraculous, gleaming, cloud-filled sky, andwonderful birds preening their plumage and calling to each other, and wonderful breeze-swept water, bluer than the bluest depths ofthe Indian Ocean. 

It was still so early that, in the whole stretch of rollicking, tumbling, buoyant waters between bank and bank, only one piece ofriver-craft could be seen. This pushed onward, cleaving through thelittle billows in the teeth of the morning breeze. It was a tinynaphtha launch--a horrid, fussy, smoking little thing, cuttingthrough breeze and water, and diffusing a scent of oil and greasediron in the pure and radiant air. A white bird on the bank lookedat it, and rose with a startled note of alarm, and a flight oflovely-salmon-coloured colleagues followed. The others merelylooked up and paused, with their wings wide stretched, and thenwent on calmly with their toilets--they had seen it before. 

In the launch, of which the whole centre was taken by thenaphtha-stove--the engine by courtesy--sat a young Englishman, whose face had that frank, attractive look of one whose thoughtsare kindly, well disposed to all the world; and at stem and sternstood, erect and silent, the white-clothed figure of a boy fromthe Soudan. Lithe, graceful forms supported long necks andstraight-featured faces, black as if carved out of smooth ebony, and contrasting strangely with the white turbans of stiff linentwisted deftly into a high crest above the brows. Swiftly thelittle boat ran on for a mile or two against wind, with its threesilent and motionless occupants; then one boy turned, andpronounced solemnly the two words, "Mister, Omdurman!"

This was accompanied with a gracious wave of his hand towards thebank, as he leant forward to stop the engine, and his companionturned the boat to land. 

Omdurman, as seen from the river level, looks like nothing but along streak of duller yellow on the real gold of the African sand. Its tiny, square, flat-roofed mud-houses are not, with fewexceptions, higher than six feet, and there is nothing else savethem and their dreary, yellow-brown, muddy monotony in the wholevillage: not a palm, not a flower, not one blade of grass, simply acollection of low mud-houses, with trampled mud-paths between, andhere and there an open, brown, dusty square. 

The stillness and heat of the day were settling down now: the firstwild, cool youth of the morning was past, and the Englishman feltthe heat of the desert rise from the ground and strike his face, like the blow of a flail, as he stepped on land. He expected theSoudanese boys to follow, as they generally did on similarexcursions--one to secure the boat and sit and wait beside it, andthe other to accompany himself, carry his tripod and camera, andact as guide and general escort. To-day the boy stood in the boat, and addressed him earnestly:

"Boat wanted by other misters: let us go back: take them. We makemuch money; come again evening, take you home. "

"But, you young ruffians, what am I to do out here alone? I don'tknow the way, and I want you to carry my things, " expostulated theEnglishman, vainly trying to adjust a pair of blue goggles over hiseyes, smarting already in the intolerable glare from the sand, while striving not to let drop his camera, fiercely cuddled underone arm, and its tripod of steel legs and an overcoat balanced onthe other. 

The black remained for a moment impassive, statuesque, wrapped inreflection. Then he brightened:

"Me know, " he said, suddenly springing from the boat. "Me take youmy house. Sister show you the way: sister carry mister's things. "

The Englishman stared for a moment into the eager, intelligentface, strangely handsome, though in ebony. After all, do we notthink a well-carved table beautiful, although sometimes, evenbecause, it is in ebony? Then _he_ brightened:

"Very good; take me to your house, and let me see your sister, " hesaid good-humouredly; adding inwardly, "If she's anything like you, she'll be the very thing for the camera. "

They turned from the cool, rolling, billowy water inwards towardsthe desert and the huts of Omdurman, and the heat rose up andstruck their cheeks each step they took. 

 * * * * *

Merla stood that morning at her hut doorway looking out--outtowards the river she could not see, for the banks rise and thedesert falls slightly behind them. She stood on the threshold, andthe sun beat on her Eastern face, and showed it was very good. Shewas sixteen, and, like her brothers who ran the naphtha launch forthe English, she was straight and erect, tall and lithe and supple, with a wonderful stateliness and majesty of carriage, though shehad never been taught deportment nor attended physical cultureclasses. Merla was beautiful, with the perfect beauty of line thatbelongs to her race, and possessed the straight, high forehead, thebroad, calm brow that tells of its intelligence and nobility. Sheknew, however, nothing of her own beauty. She never cared forstaring into the little squares of glass that the girls of thevillage would buy in the market-place, nor coveted the long stringsof blue glass beads that the Bishareens brought in such numbers tosell in Omdurman; nor did it specially please her to lay the beadsagainst her neck, and see them slide up and down on her smooth skinas she breathed, though her companions would thus sit for hourscross-legged before their little mirrors, breathing deep to notehow their beads rose and fell and glistened in the light. 

Merla loved much better to steal out of the hut at night, when theoil-lamp smoked against the mud wall and the air was heavy, intothe pure calm darkness of the desert, and gaze up at the stars, andlisten to the far-off tom-toms beating fitfully against thestillness. And if ever any little coins came into her possession, it seemed unkind to spend them on glass or beads when there wasalways milk and oil needed in the house. And if, when these werebought, there was any coin left, then her real luxury was to buyfood for the poor thin camel that lay at night in the mud-yardbehind their hut, and to go and feed it secretly in the starlight. And she would press her hands into the soft fur of its neck as itleant towards her, feeling that delight that springs from beingkind and loving, and being loved. The law of her life was love, alaw springing naturally in her mind, as the beauty and health inher body. Her father, her mother, her brothers were all loved byher; and, beyond these, the unfortunate camels and the donkeyswhose sides bled where the girths cut them as the carelessEnglishmen rode them in and out of the village to and from theMahdi's tomb, and the lean, barking curs in the mud street thatseldom barked as she passed by. All these she loved and sympathisedwith, though she had not been taught sympathy any more than she hadbeen taught grace. 

This morning she was radiant and happy as she looked through thequivering, yellow light that danced above the sand towards theriver. Last night she had fed the camel and caressed it, and shehad listened, half awe-struck, to the tom-toms in the distance. Themusic had seemed to come to her ears with a new sound. The breezehad blown from the river with a new kiss to her face. She wasgrowing into a woman, and the sap of life was rising fast andvigorous within her, lifting her up with the boundless joy of life. And as she looked, two white spots, a crested turban and a solartopee, appeared over the edge of the bank, moving towards her. 

"My sister!" said the Soudanese boy, with a regal air, when theystood at the mudhouse door. And some instinct, as he was young andfoolish, made the Englishman drag off both goggles and solar topeefor a moment, and so Merla looked up and saw him with the sunbright on his light Saxon hair and friendly blue eyes. 

"Merla, " went on the boy rapidly to his sister in his own tongue, "this English mister from Khartoum must have a guide to Kerreree. Igo back to the boat: other Englishman want me. You go to Kerreree, Show everything; carry black box for him--carry everything. Salaam, Stanhope Mister. "

And, without waiting for either assent or dissent, he swiftly, yetwithout any loss of dignity or show of hurry, departed. Merla'slarge eyes were downcast. She was a free woman, and came and wentunveiled, nor was it impossible for her to talk to the whitepeople, for her parents were poor and humble, and glad to makepiastres in any way they could. One of her sisters was awater-carrier at the hotel in Khartoum, and she might be engagedthere also when she was older. But still she held her eyes down, for she felt embarrassed and oppressed, and, besides, the topee andthe goggles had been replaced, and they spoilt the vision she hadseen first of the English face. 

"Well, Merla, if that's your name, will you come with me?" theEnglishman said lightly. He knew the tongue well that her brothersspoke, not in any of its refinement and subtlety, but in theordinary distorted way an Englishman usually speaks a foreigntongue. 

"I will ask if I may, " she returned simply, in a low voice, anddrew back into the dark hut behind her. After a moment shereappeared. "My mother and my brother have ordered it, " she saidcalmly. "I am ready. "

Struck by the philosophic, impassive accent of her voice, and notfeeling at all flattered, the young man added in rather a nettledtone:

"But I hope it's not disagreeable to you. You are willing to come?"

Then Merla looked at him steadily from under her calm, widely-arching brows: "I am willing. " A calm pride enwrapped allher countenance, and it seemed as if she said it somewhat as avictim might say, "I am willing, " on being led to the altar ofsacrifice. Yet her eyes were radiant, and seemed to smile on him. 

The young Englishman was puzzled, as young England mostly is by theEast, and, seeing this, the girl added, "Certainly I am willing; itis fated I should go with you. Give me the black box. "

But it goes against the grain of an Englishman to let a woman carryhis baggage, though he hires her to do it, and he held his cameraback from her. 

"Take these, " he said; "they are lighter, " and he gave the littletripod to her, and so they started down the mud sun-baked streetthat leads through Omdurman to the desert, and out towards thebattle-ground of Kerreree. There were few people stirring; the menhad already started to their work in the fields by the Nile, or onthe river itself, and the women kept within the close darkness ofthe huts mixing and baking meal for the evening's food. Merlawalked on swiftly and silently like a shadow at Stanhope's sidethrough the mud village, and then on into the silent heat of thedesert beyond. Here the fury of the sun was intense. The river wasout of sight, lying low between its banks. To infinite distance onevery side of them stretched the plain, and the soil here was notgolden sand, but curiously black, like powdered coal or lava. Not aliving thing moved near them; only, far away towards the horizon, now and then passed a string of camels of some Bedouins travelling. They walked on in silence. Stanhope found the walking heavy, as hisheeled boots sank into the loose, black soil, and it was difficultto keep up with the swift, easy steps of the bare black feet besidehim. His duck suit was damp, and the line of flesh exposed betweencuff and glove on his wrist was burnt to a livid red already in thesmiting heat. Suddenly Merla's eyes fell on this, and she stopped. Over her head she wore a loose veil of coarse white muslin. As shestopped, she unwound this from her hair, and tore two strips fromit. Stanhope stopped too, well pleased at the pause. 

"You burn your English skin; the flesh will come off, " she saidgravely, and before he quite realised it, she had passed one of themuslin strips round and tied it on his wrist. Stanhope's instinctwas to protest at once, but there was something in the girl'searnestness and the tender interest with which she put the muslinon his hand that checked him. Also the pain, whenever his sharpcuff touched the seared skin, was unpleasant, and made him reallyappreciate the improvised protection. 

"Your pretty veil, Merla, you've torn it up for me, " he remarkedregretfully as they started again. Merla glanced at him suddenly;she said nothing, but the pride and joy in her eyes startled theman beside her. He could find no more words, and silence fellon them again till Merla roused him from a reverie by sayingindifferently:

"Look! that white heap there--bones, dead men, dead horses. Thisside, white bones too; many dead here--many bones. "

Stanhope looked round. Everywhere, scattered in heaps, shone thewhite bones. They had come to the edge of the battlefield. Beforethem rose the little hill of Teb-el-Surgham, crowned by its cairnof black stones and rocks, surrounded by whitened bones and skulls, from the summit of which the English watched the defeat of theKhalifa's force. Stanhope cast his eyes over the dreary, black, blood-soaked plain, on which there was no blade of grass, no plant, no flower--only black rock and white bones, that shimmered togetherin the torrid heat. 

"Horrible! Merla, war is horrible! Come and sit down; I'm deadtired. Let's sit down here against this rock and rest. "

Stanhope threw himself down by one of the rocks at the base of thehill, and leant back against it. The girl took her place on thesand opposite him, with her feet tucked under her. Not far fromthem lay a skull, turned upwards to the glaring sky. 

"Will you let me photograph you?" he asked after a minute's gazingat the rich dark beauty of the youthful face, "or is it againstyour customs?"

"It is against our customs, " Merla answered, her hands closing hardon the tripod beside her. What terror it would mean for her tostand before that great black box, and have that evil black eyeglare upon her for long seconds! She had seen her countrywomen fleeshrieking to their huts, when the Englishmen approached with theirblack boxes. 

"But you will do it for me, won't you?" answered Stanhopepersuasively, having set his heart on the picture. 

"Yes, I will do it for you; it is right, if you wish it, " sheanswered steadily. 

Stanhope accepted at once such a convenient theory, and sprang upto fix the tripod and the camera in order, and the girl sat stillon the sand watching him, cold with terror in the burning air. 

"Now, pick up that skull and hold it out in your hand, so. Yes, that's right. Now, stand a little further back. Yes, that'sperfect. "

There was no difficulty in getting her to pose. The naturalattitudes of her race are all perfect poses. And Merla stooderect, facing the camera, with the emblem of death in her hand. 

"Thank you; I am very much obliged! That'll be a first-ratepicture, " he said gratefully when he had finished, and Merla satdown with a strange swimming feeling of joy rushing over her. Stanhope was some time fussing with his camera, and putting it backin its case out of the light. Then he wanted lunch, and drew fortha sandwich-case and a wine-flask. The girl would only eat verylittle, and would not taste the wine. Stanhope, who was very hungryand thirsty, ate all his sandwiches and drank all the wine, andbegan to feel very bright, refreshed, and exhilarated. 

"Do you know you are very beautiful?" he remarked, as he stretchedhimself comfortably in the shade of the rock and gazed at her, seated sedately on the sand in front of him. 

"Beautiful?" she repeated slowly, reflectively, "am I? The whitecamel that lives down by the market square is beautiful, and so wasthe Mahdi's tomb. "

"Well, you are more beautiful even than the white camel or theMahdi's tomb, " returned Stanhope, laughing. "And what do you thinkof me?" he added curiously. "Where do I come in the list? somewhereclose after the white camel, I hope. "

Then, as she gazed at him steadfastly, without replying at all, hefelt rather piqued, and took off his blue glasses and squared hisfine shoulders against the rock. 

"Oh, you!" said the girl softly at last, "You are like nothing onearth, lord! You are like the sun when he first comes over theplain, or the moon at night, when it floats, white and shining, through the blue spaces!"

She sat sedately still, but her breast heaved under the straight, white tunic: her eyes were full of soft fire: her voice was low, and quivered with enthusiasm. Stanhope flushed scarlet. Confusedand startled, he stared into her eyes, and so they sat, silent, gazing at each other. 

 * * * * *

That same afternoon there was a big fair or bazaar in the trampledmud square in the centre of the Soudanese village that lies higherup the river at the back of Khartoum. The place was gay with colourand crowded with moving figures. From long distances, from far-offvillages down and up the river, the natives had come in, either tosell or to buy along the wide, dusty road that went out from eitherside of the square, leading each way north and south. The mud-hutsstood all round the square, backed by some date-palms, for Khartoumand the village behind it are more favoured with shade thansun-baked Omdurman. And in the centre of the square stood or satthe natives, buying and selling, chaffering and gesticulating. Somewere Bishareens, with straight forms and features, and black bodiesalmost covered with long strings and chains of beads. They stoodabout gracefully to be admired, with their wooly hair fluffed outat right angles to their head, for the occasion. Some werecorn-merchants, sitting leisurely before a heap of golden grainpiled up loosely on the ground. Others stood by patiently withtheir fowls or goats or camels, feeding them with green fodder; andothers had vivid scarlet rugs and carpets of native make spread outon the uneven ground. And all day long the noise of the merchants, and the cry of the fowls, and the groan of the camels, and thedust of the square, and the smoke of the cooking fires went up fromthe bazaar. 

In one corner of it, on a square of blue carpet, spread beneath hiscamel's nose, sat a merchant who had been observed to come early tothe fair. He appeared to be a man of some substance, for he wasclothed, and the camel kneeling beside him was fat and sleek, andwould easily make two of the thin camels of Khartoum. Opposite him, sitting on his heels and holding out two lean hands to tend thesmall fire that smoked between them, was another, obviously poorer, from his smaller amount of dress and flesh. 

"It is true: your Merla is the pearl of the desert. I have heard itfrom my mother, " observed the merchant reflectively. "Still, think, my brother, a good riding camel that can be hired out to theEnglishmen every day for thirty piastres the day; in a short timeyou will feed on goat's flesh, and wear boots, with all thatmoney. "

The black eyes of the listener sparkled, but he objected shrewdlyenough. 

"My daughter eats not as much as a camel, and the English want nota camel every day. "

The stranger, fat and comfortable-looking, with a certain amount ofopulent Oriental good looks, waved his hand with a lordly gesture. 

"Let it not be said that Balloon is an oppressor of the poor. Giveme the pearl, and this knife shall go with the camel, also thispiece of blue carpet--a noble offer, my brother; where will youfind such another?"

He drew from his crimson sash a longish knife, keen-bladed, withtrueblue, Eastern steel, and having a good bone-handle, on whichthe fingers clasped easily. The other took the knife and gazed atit intently. 

"'Tis but a poor thing, " he said at last, indifferently thrustingit into the cloths twisted round his waist. "Yet the camel and thecarpet may suit me, and, as you say, you need not the girl atpresent, I will agree, as I am a poor man, and the poor are everunder the heel of the rich. The girl shall be sent to your house onyour return. "

"I go now northwards, and shall return by the full moon; disappointme not, Krino or it shall be evil for you. "

"I disappoint no man, " replied Krino calmly, taking over from theother the string of the camel, and the fine beast turned its dark, soft head, and looked with liquid eyes on its new owner. 

The sky began to show an orange and crimson glow behind the palms, and many cooking-fires now gleamed like spots of blood upon thesand, and the figures still came and went, and talked and bartered, for the goods were not nearly all sold, and the heaps of fine cornwere still high in many places, and the fair would go on to-morrowand the next day. But Krino got up and took his way homeward, exulting over his bargain, and leading the camel. 

At the same hour, lower down the Nile, at Omdurman, the river laycalm now, without a ripple, and bathed in gold; a stream of liquidgold it seemed, asleep between its deep-green banks, and only nowand then did a white-sailed felucca glide by in the golden eveninglight. 

Two figures came down from the desert to the Nile out of the flat, heated air of the plain to the divine freshness by the water. Here, in the cool, golden light, they paused slow and reluctant topart. 

"Good-night, Merla! Are you unhappy that I must go?"

The girl raised her face, and looked at him with steadfast eyes. 

"The sun gilds the black rock, but the rock cannot expect the sunto stay. I am quite happy. Good-night!"

Another moment and the little launch had sprung out from the deepshadowed bank on to the golden surface, and was steaming, amidstthe gold and rosy ripples, back to Khartoum. 

When Merla reached the little enclosure of stamped clay round herhut, she saw a new camel feeding there, and cried out for joy. Sheran to it and clasped her hands about its velvet neck, and calledto her father, as he sat smoking at the doorway, a dozen questions. Where had it come from? Whose was it? But the old man only chuckledand laughed, and would not answer. 

"No, no, " he thought, watching her with pride, as she played roundthe camel, "let the maiden wait to know the joy in store for hertill the full moon; she is but a child. "

Stanhope went that night to a dance at the palace at Khartoum, buthe was late in arriving, and seemed very dull and absent-mindedwhen he came, and flattered the women less than usual. "He used tobe such a nice boy when he first came here, " they complainedamongst themselves, "but he was quite horrid to-night--he must bein love, " and they all laughed, for every one knew there was no onein Khartoum to fall in love with except themselves, and he had notled any one of them to suppose she was the favoured one. 

CHAPTER II

The night was calm, and in the purple, star-filled sky the moon wasrising. It was at the full. The naphtha launch was on the river, but it moved silently; current was with it, and the light airsfavourable, so there was no need of the engine; one single sailcarried the boat easily over the buoyant water. The stars and therising moon gleamed in the smooth, black ripples. Stanhope sat inthe boat thinking, wrapped in a cruel reverie. 

He felt he had sailed the craft of his life too near the perilousshore of unconventionality, and now he saw the rocks ahead of himplainly, on which it would be torn in pieces. Yet how to turn back, or move the helm to steer away from them?

"A month ago, " he thought, as his eye caught the reflection of therising moon in the water, "when that moon was young, I was free. Not a soul cared for me, whether I lived or died, and I cared forno one. " Now there was one, he knew, who lived upon his coming, whose feet ran to meet him, whose eyes strained their vision to seehis first approach. And he, too; he was no longer free. His heartwent out to that other heart, beating for him alone so truly, sofaithfully, full of such unquestioning adoration and obedience, inmud-walled sun-parched Omdurman. 

When the launch touched the bank, he sprang out and walked swiftlyup to their usual meeting-place: the deserted mud enclosure of adeserted hut--an unlovely meeting-place enough--but filled with thesweet air of the desert night and the royal light of the stars. 

"My lord looks weary to-night, " said Merla softly, after they hadgreeted each other, and had sat down side by side with their backsto the low wall. 

"Yes, I am tired with thinking. What is to be the end of this, Merla? Where is our love drifting us to?"

"Why does my lord concern himself with that? We are in the hands ofFate. "

Stanhope moved impatiently. 

"Our fate is what we make it. "

"It is not wise to enquire about our fate, " replied Merla, and hesaw her face grow grave with resolution in the dim light. "But Ican tell you, if you like, what it will be: when you are ready, youwill go back to your own people, your own life, and you will bevery happy. "

"And you--?" asked Stanhope in a whisper. 

"I shall then have lived my life. I shall die and be buried outthere, " and she motioned to the desert. "I shall have given my lordhappiness for a time: think what delight, what honour!"

Stanhope shuddered. 

"Don't, don't, I can't bear to hear you; do you ask nothing foryourself from life?"

"Life has given me all now, " returned Merla, with a proud smile onher face. 

"Why should we not go home to my land together?" said Stanhopepassionately, in that sudden revolt against the laws of custom thatstirs all humanity at times. "Why should I not take you to livewith me for always to be my wife? who would forbid me?"

Merla shook her head, and pressed hard on his hand lying beside heron the sand. 

"The sun cannot lift the black rock from the desert and take it todwell in the blue spaces; neither can the sun stay with the rock. You are grieving for me; do not. I am quite happy. I accept whatmust be. My life ends when you go. "

For a wild moment it seemed to Stanhope that he must dareeverything and take her. After all, she was intelligent: she couldbe educated. She was beautiful, youthful; and what a love shepoured out at his feet!--different in calibre, in nature, different, from its root up, from any love he could hope to findagain--a love that asked absolutely nothing for itself, not eventhe right to live, and yet would give its all unquestioningly, unsparingly. It is not a toy to be thrown away lightly, andStanhope realised this. 

"The blue spaces are cold and empty, Merla, " he said, suddenlycatching her to his breast. "You must come with me. "

"No, lord, it is impossible; you speak only for me, " whisperedMerla, though she clasped his neck tightly. "You must go and livehappy, and I shall die happy; even in my grave I shall rememberyour kisses. "

 * * * * *

An hour later, the moon was well up in the sky, though the lightwas not yet brilliant, and they parted by the wall of thecattle-byre with promises to meet on the morrow, and he turned andleft her standing in the shadow; but some instinct moved him, andhe returned and kissed her yet again, and said one more farewell;then he took the narrow track leading down to the river, and Merlaknew that she must hasten home; for her father, who had been out inthe early evening, would be returning. Before she left she turnedback once more into the byre, and stood looking at the stars thatshe had communed with so often: a great sadness fell on herthoughts, a chill as after a final parting. As she turned to go, her eyes fell on a grey patch on the byre floor--his coat! He hadleft it behind. Merla gave a little laugh as she picked it up: theparting seemed less final now. She would keep it till the morrow. Would he want it? miss it? No, the night was so still and sultry;and, throwing it over her arm, she passed onwards to her hut. 

As she neared the enclosure, her heart beat rapidly. A light wasburning within the hut, and by the moonlight she saw the greatcamel moving restlessly in the narrow space outside. Angry voicesreached her in sharp discussion--her father's and another. Justinside the enclosure she paused and listened, trembling, uncertainwhat this unusual clamour and strange voice might mean. 

"I gave you my camel, my knife, and my carpet. Where is the Pearl Iwas promised? Is not the moon at the full?"

Merla heard these words with a thrill passing through every fibre. She knew her father had no pearl in his possession, but was nother name "Pearl of the Desert"? Next there came some confusedmurmur--seemingly words of apology--in her father's voice that shecould not catch, but the stranger interrupted angrily:

"Unhappy man! tricked seller, tricked buyer, would you know wherethe Pearl is? would you know where your daughter hides? I haveheard that she has been seen with a stranger, a white-facedstranger--I know not if he be a leper or an Englishman--" with abitter laugh, "but in either case I want her not. Come, give me myknife, and I lead off my camel. "

Merla's heart failed, for her father gave a shriek as he heard theaccusation, and a shower of oaths and imprecations came to hershrinking ears. Nothing was clear any more; there was only clamourand raving in the hut. But once she caught the words, "to theriver--does he go to the river?" and above all the storm of wordsthere was the awful sound of the sharpening of a knife. 

Like a shadow, noiseless and silent, Merla crept swiftly, under theshade of the camel's body, across the enclosure to the mudpartition behind which her youngest brother slept, and roused him. "Nungoon!" she said breathlessly, gripping his shoulder, "take thetrack to the river, and run for your life. You will overtake theEnglishman. Tell him this. 'Merla says: Run to the launch and getoff the land quickly, and never come back to Omdurman, or come witha guard. They seek to kill you here. ' Go, brother; run!"

The boy, startled from his sleep, gathered himself together androse. His sister, leaning over him with ashy face and fixed eyes, seemed like Fate itself directing him. Moreover, Oriental youth isaccustomed to obey unquestioningly. Without a word, simply with asign of assent, he fled out of the enclosure, down the track to theriver. 

Merla stepped back and out of the yard, and stood waiting, silentas before; she had formed her resolution, and all fear was past. The mats in front of the door were suddenly pushed aside, and astreak of light fell across the yard, but it could not touch her, sheltered by the wall. She saw her father rush out, wild-eyed, andthe long blade of the knife gleamed blue in the moonlight. 

Then, as he dashed through the enclosure entrance, she moved herfeet suddenly, scraping the sand, and then fled, wrapped inStanhope's long light overcoat, up towards the desert, away fromthe river. Krino, blinded, maddened by passion, glanced at the wallwhence came the scraping sound, and then, catching sight of aflying form in English dress, plunged with a cry of triumph afterit. Merla fled like the wind along in the shadow of the wall, keeping in the darkness, with her head down, fearing lest her barehead or bare feet might betray her. But Krino's eyes were fixed onthe silvery grey of the English overcoat, and, blind to all else, he raced on in the uncertain light with his eyes intent on theshoulders between which he would plunge his knife. Up through theheart of sleeping Omdurman, past silent huts and yellow walls thatgleamed pale in the moonlight, through the village to the desert, hunted and hunter fled on, and Krino's heart rose in savagetriumph. 

"Fool! he cannot escape me now; by the river--yes, but not in thedesert; he cannot escape. "

And the desert was reached and entered, and still the two noiselessshadows fled over the sand. 

Merla's strength was failing: her sight was reeling; she could runno more. Only the joy of knowing that each step led the enemyfarther from her loved one had supported her till now. Now he wassafe, he must be away on the friendly river. There had been ampletime. Not now would it be possible for Krino to reach the riverbefore her lover had embarked. It was well. All was well! And theblack sand spun round her in the moonlight, as she heard the hissof her father's breath behind her. She wavered. With a bound theman threw himself forward. One stab, and the keen blade sankthrough the flesh below the shoulder, driving her forward, and shefell face downwards on the sand. 

Blind still with fury, the Soudanese bent down, tore at the head todrag it back that he might slash it from the body, and turned upthe face to the moonlight. Fixed in agony and triumph, it lookedback at him--the dead face of his daughter, the PEARL OF THEDESERT. 

IV

The last flare of the sunset was falling on the walls of Jerusalem, staining them crimson, and flooding all the enchanting circle ofthe hills that lie round the city with rosy light. Low down in oneof the depressions, where the long sun-rays could not reach, andthe olive-trees looked grey in the twilight, stood the grim, whiteMonastery of the Holy Virgin. The air was sweet and cool here, farfrom the pollution of the city, and the evening sky stretched fairand radiant above the purple hills. Unbroken quiet reigned, andonly one thing in the landscape moved--the figure of a girlascending swiftly a narrow, stony road under the shadow of thewall. She seemed burdened with many things that she was carrying, and oppressed with some haunting fear, for she looked backfrequently, and then pressed on with redoubled speed. The stonytrack brought her at last to the corner of the enclosure ofolive-trees belonging to the monastery; it branched here, one pathleading straight to the gates of the building, the other skirtingthe olive-wood plantation, and then passing on out into the barrenhills and open country towards Jericho. The girl took the secondtrack, and here, under the friendly shade of the sheltering trees, she walked more erect and easily. When she reached the farthercorner of the plantation she stopped and listened, gazing roundher. There was no sound, the light was failing, the hush deepening. "Nicholas, " she breathed in a clear whisper, leaning on the lowstone plantation wall, "are you there?" A rustling of some longrobe against bushes answered her--the olive branches were pushedaside, and the figure of a Greek priest came from between them. With a smile of intense joy on his face he leant over the wall, andclasped the girl's two soft hands in his. 

"Esther!" he whispered back, "you have come; you have decided then, you are ready?"

"I am quite ready, " answered the girl, pressing close to the walland lifting her face; the last gleam of gold light from the risingridge to the west touched it, and showed it was very fair. "If youare sure it is right, if you have faith in Jehovah to lead us. "

The priest's face, pale and emaciated, with the rapt look of thevisionary stamped upon it, lighted up suddenly with a newexaltation. 

"I am quite sure. Last night when I was praying, still in doubt, before the great crucifix, I heard a voice from above saying:'Nicholas, you are absolved from further prayer and penance here. Go forth with the maiden you love and serve Me in the world. Thejoy of human hearts singing to Me in grateful praise is morepleasing to Me than these groans and tears and prayers. I havecreated the blue sky and the laughing seas and the green hills; goforth and see my works, and praise Me. '"

The Jewish girl had listened intently, her face as rapt as hiswhile he spoke, the fire of joy glowing in her eyes. 

"Come, then, at once, " she murmured in an ardent whisper, andNicholas stepped over the low boundary into the hill road, nowwrapped in darkness. Before them still glimmered dimly the whiteoutlines of the monastery behind the trees. The man stoodmotionless, gazing at them, the girl's hand tightly clasped in hisand held against his breast. 

"The agony, the misery I have suffered behind those walls, " hemuttered, "for sixteen years!"

"It is over, " murmured the girl; "come away to the hills; we haveno time to lose. "

She stooped to gather up the objects in the road. "I have broughtyou these things, " she said confusedly, hardly audibly. "Changeinto them quickly, and then follow me up the road. No, I will takeall the rest, " she added, as he took the bundle of clothing shegave him and stretched out his hand for the other smaller things. "Hasten, Nicholas, it is so dangerous here!" With this partingentreaty she went on up the road carrying the bundles. 

After she had gone a little way she paused and listened--all wasquite still--the stars now showed fitfully in the deepening purpleof the sky, a little breeze blew gently up from the wildernesstowards Jerusalem. The girl sat down by the wall, with her backagainst it, and her hands clasped round her knees. Her face had astrange, wonderful beauty as she sat waiting, white-skinned andsoftly-moulded, with resolute, dark eyebrows drawn straight acrossthe calm forehead. A few moments passed, and then Nicholasapproached; his flowing priest's robes were gone, the high, straight, black hat of the order was no longer on his head: it wasbare, and the long uncut hair, as the Greeks wear it, was twistedin two thick fair coils round his head. Esther sprang up, untwisting a broad sash from her waist. 

"Take this! No wait! let me twist it round your head--yes, so. Nowit looks like a Jewish turban. You have the robe and the hat withyou?--yes, bring them, bring them, " and they hurried on, fleeingaway from the monastery. Esther knew a short track across the hillswhich in a little while joins the great main road to Jericho, thatdescends down and down through the bare rolling hills of thewilderness to the fair plain of the Jordan and the shores of theDead Sea. For the first few miles they sped on in silence withclasped hands, the night wind rushing against their faces, and nosound coming to their ears but the occasional whine of the hungryhyenas, prowling over the stony, starlit hills. In the man's breastswelled an exaltation beyond all words: it lifted him up so, thathis feet seemed flying over the rugged ground without touching it;the night-wind filled his veins with fire: his brain seemed alightand glowing. For years past the bare stone walls of his monk's cellhad given him pictures painted by his fevered fancy of such a walkas this through starlit, open spaces--a walk to life and freedom. For years his hot, caged feet had paced the stone cell floor, aching to pass the threshold; and for the last month ever sincefrom amongst the olive-trees he had seen the fair Jewish girl passby, a new vision had come upon those white-washed walls to add itstorture to the rest. Evening after evening he had stolen out atsunset to see her pass, as she came and went from the littlecluster of Jewish houses on the ridge beyond the monastery andwatched the sunlight play upon her brows and hair. Could thisthing, so divinely beautiful, be the creation of the devil todestroy men's souls? His reason revolted against it. If so, thewarm sunlight and radiant sky and air, the flowers and the purplehills, his weary eyes strained out to must be also the devil'swork, for all these things were akin, and the woman passing amongstthem was but the masterpiece made by the same hand. 

"Say, " he had said wearily, one night, to a monk passing him like asilent shadow on his way to his cell. "Is all the world the work ofthe devil?"

"Nay, brother, what blasphemy!" returned the other, startled beyondmeasure. "It is all the work of God" and Nicholas had passed intohis cell well pleased. And the next evening he had called softly tothe masterpiece of the Creator, as she went by, and the girl, startled and fearful at first, had spoken a few words out of sheerpity for the hungry, lonely soul looking out so wistfully at her;and then how soon had come other meetings, the plan to escape--thatfinal vision which had seemed to justify him, --and now the flight!

"Will the boat be there! will they wait for us?" he asked eagerly, as they walked swiftly on. 

"Yes, I heard the boat was coming over from the Jewish Colonybeyond the Dead Sea, and I sent word down it was to take me in itwhen it left again, " the girl replied, "We shall get down thereto-morrow evening; we will go to old Solomon's house; he will letus stay with him one night, and in the morning we must get down tothe shore and the boat. "

Nicholas pressed her hand as they walked on. How wise she was, thislittle Jewish girl! She had lived her short life in the world, andknew her way about in it so well. And he, so much older, felt likea child beside her, after all those long, deadening, numbing yearsin the monastery. 

Five miles more of the white, stony road were traversed, winding inand out, but always descending between the barren desolate hills ofthe wilderness, and then Esther said with a little sob in hervoice:

"We must stop here now and rest, I am so tired. I cannot go anyfurther to-night. "

"Tired?" he echoed wonderingly. Could he ever feel tired now? Hisfeet seemed borne on wings. But he stopped, and bending over her, lifted and carried her tenderly from the starlit road to a largerock jutting out from the hillside. Here, in the shadow on thefarther side, they lay down, and the girl fell at once into thedeep sleep of utter bodily fatigue. The man lay open-eyed claspingher to him, his brain on fire with freedom, listening with joy tothe cries of the wandering wild animals amongst the hills. 

The following evening, late, they reached the plain. The wildernesslay behind them, and in front, beyond the green darkness of thetrees, they knew the starlight was gleaming on the Dead Sea. Theheat down here was suffocating, and their weary feet moved onslowly through the village--a collection of a few white flat-roofedhouses, which are all that now mark the spot where stood once therich, mighty city of Jericho. In the last house shone a light, andEsther led Nicholas towards it. 

Solomon was waiting for them, and had prepared for them his bestupper room--a little narrow apartment, with windows facing towardsthe sea--where supper was laid, and opening from this a tinysleeping chamber. A swinging lamp hung over the centre table, andSolomon's younger brother waited on them. Esther, with the dust ofthe road washed from her skin, looked very fair, sitting under thelight of the lamp, her eyes glowing with the mysterious fires oflove and joy, and the two Jews sat listening to her eagerly as shetalked to them, telling them the news of her family and friends inJerusalem. 

"If I could only go up to the city, " sighed the younger man. "But Icannot walk, and I have no horse, " and he grew sullen and dejectedand said no more, while the elder continued to ask and be answereda hundred questions about the life and doings of the city. 

That night, past midnight, when the whole plain of Jericho laywrapped in a deep hush, and not one light gleamed in the darknessof the village, a carriage drawn by two foam-covered horsesthundered down the last steep descent of the road from Jerusaleminto the village, and dashed through it straight to Solomon'sdwelling. Esther, asleep in the upper room, with Nicholas' headpillowed on her shoulder, heard the clatter of wheels and awokesuddenly, all her body growing rigid with terror. 

"Nicholas, awake! they have followed us!" She sprang from the bed, and opening the window noiselessly, looked out. The night was quitedark, but by straining her eyes she could descry the form of acovered carriage below, and two dark figures stood hammering on thehouse-door. The sounds rang reverberating through the dwelling, anddisturbing the still, calm air without, laden with the scent ofmyrtle and orange-flower. A window above opened, and the old Jewlooked out. 

"Who knocks?" he called. 

"Priests from Jerusalem, from the Monastery of the Holy Virgin. Onewhom we seek is within; let us enter. " Esther drew back into theroom, and saw Nicholas standing behind her, his face haggard withdespair. "Jehovah, then, is not with us. "

Esther pressed his hand. 

"Esther is with you, " she murmured softly. "You shall not go back, they shall not touch you. Give me your priest's clothing, and stayhere. "

Before he could answer she had snatched up the garments and wasgone, fastening the door behind her. Outside on the stairway shemet old Solomon, coming slowly down to answer the imperativesummons from below. 

"Delay all you can in admitting them, " she whispered, then ran pasthim, fleet of foot, up the stairs to the Jews' room--the door stoodopen as Solomon had left it. She entered, and stood within in thedarkness. 

"Hiram, " she called softly, "you wished to go up to Jerusalem. Nowis your opportunity. Get up, put on these things, and the priestswill take you back in their carriage. " She heard the man rise andbound to the floor. 

"Is that you, Esther? Have they sent from the monastery to takeNicholas?"

"Yes, " returned Esther in an agonised voice. "But you will not letthem take him? See, Hiram, they cannot hurt you; they will notrecognise you, nor suspect you here in the darkness, in the dressof Nicholas. You need not speak. They will hasten you into thecarriage. To-morrow when they discover you, it will be too late forthem to overtake us. We shall be gone, and _you_ they will notwant. They cannot put you in their monastery. They must releaseyou, and you--will be at the gates of Jerusalem. "

Her low voice, thrilled with her agony of fear and suspense: therewas the very soul of persuasion in it. As she pleaded in thedarkness, she heard the man breathing quickly, and shuffling hisfeet on the floor. He was hesitating. He longed to go up to thecity, but this seemed a dangerous expedient. Yet it would serveEsther, and she was very fair, and was of his own kindred. Therewas a noise and clamour downstairs beneath them--the sound of theslow unbarring of bolts, and angry voices without. Esther drewnearer, and her voice grew sharp with fear:

"Hiram, as they are pushing you to the carriage, I will throwmyself into your arms, and you shall kiss me your last farewell, asif you were Nicholas. "

In the darkness she felt that the man stretched out his hand. 

"Give me the clothes; I will go. "

Esther threw them into his arms, and darted out, closing the door, and hung over the stair-rail. There was no light, but she couldhear the heavy footsteps coming up. Nearer they came, and nearer, stumbling, and Solomon's step behind, as he followed the priests, grumbling and protesting. Now they were almost opposite the door ofthe room where Nicholas crouched waiting. 

"He is not here! he is not here!" wailed out Esther's voicesuddenly from above, and the priests hearing her, rushed up thestairs to where she stood, passing by, forgotten, the door of thelower room. 

Rigid and tense she stood before the door as if guarding it, herarms outstretched before it. The first priest pushed her roughly onone side, the second opened the door, and beyond, dimly outlinedagainst the open window square, was visible the draped figure andheavy hat of a priest. With a shout of triumph they darted forward, and Esther gave a great cry of wild despair. The priests draggedhim out unresisting, and forced him down the stairs. No word camefrom him. Solomon, leaning back against the wall to let them pass, stretched out his hand to the weeping Esther; but she passed him, crying and hurrying after her lover. Down in the passage the largedoor stood wide, showing the waiting carriage in the dim starlightof the sultry night. As they pushed him to the door, he suddenlywrested himself free for an instant, and Esther rushed into hisarms. 

"Oh, Nicholas, Nicholas! Good-bye!"

The priests seized her by the shoulder, wrenching her away, and onehurled her with a fury of loathing back into the darkness of thepassage. Then they forced their prisoner forward, stumbling, resisting, to the carriage. The door snapped to, the horses plungedforward, and the carriage thundered away into the night. Estherpicked herself up from where she had fallen in the passage, andbruised and trembling, but with a joyous smile, rushed up thenarrow stairway. 

"Solomon!" she said, whispering in the old Jew's ear, "Hiram hasgone in the place of Nicholas! Nicholas is safe here. Oh, help usto get to the sea!"

Solomon shook with laughter as he heard--for a Jew loves dearly aclever ruse--and he stroked Esther's soft hair as she stood by him. 

"Light us a lamp, and let us get away to the shore, that we canembark and be away on the water at dawn, before they discover itand return, " Then she passed by him and entered the room whereNicholas awaited her. Solomon trimmed a lamp and a lantern forthem, and put up some bread and meat for their journey, hisshoulders shaking with inward chuckles as he did so. 

"Hiram a priest!" he repeated to himself; "that is a joke indeed, and Esther, what a quick brain she has--a true daughter of Israel!"and Esther was murmuring within to Nicholas:

"Jehovah has saved us. Now let us hasten down to the sea. "

The next morning, when the dawn broke soft and rosy over the fairplain of Jericho, the sea that is called the Dead Sea, yet seems, in its glorious wealth of colour and sparkling brilliance to berather the emblem of Life, glowed and flashed like a huge sapphirein the sun's rays, and at its calm edge, that meets the shorewithout a ripple, swayed gently the ship of the pilgrims from theJewish Colony. 

Nicholas and Esther sat side by side watching the pilgrims' oarsdip quietly in perfect rhythm as they sang. And the song of praisewent up through the golden air, and echoed back to the sunny, silent strand vanishing behind them. 

V

Dawn was breaking over the desert. Steadily the triumphant rosespread upward in the pale opalescent sky, and broad waves of lightrippled slowly over the wide level plain. The little keen breeze ofthe morning, the herald of the dawn that runs ever in front of itschariot, stirred the branches of the palm trees by the Nile, andplayed a moment idly with the flap of a tent door before it passedonward. Here, some two miles away from cool Assouan, lying out inthe desert, was the Bishâreen encampment, and the last small tentof the long line had its door open, and the flap of the awningloose, with which the morning wind stopped to play. 

Within, seated cross-legged on the scarlet rug and sheepskin whichformed their bed, were two girls braiding their hair before a tinysquare of glass, which each in turn held up for the other. 

"How cold the morning is! How I hate to hear the wind shake thedoor flaps, " one said and shivered. 

"Doolga, don't; you are holding the glass all crooked; I cannot seemyself. Why should you feel cold this morning of all others, whenSheik Ilbrahim dar Awaz is coming to claim you?" returned theother, and she laughed softly, with her slim fingers busy trying tobind up and restrain her dusky cloud of hair. 

How lovely she was, this young Bishâreen, who had looked on theyearly fall of the Nile but fifteen times--lovely as the tallslender palm of the oasis, or the gold light on the river atsunset. Tall and straight, with the stately carriage and proud headof her race; smooth and supple, with every limb faultlessly mouldedunder the clear, lustrous skin. 

"Silka, Silka! I cannot marry the Sheik. I am in terror of him. Help me, save me!"

The little glass fell on the blanket between them. In the warm roseglow now filling the tent, Doolga's face was ashen-coloured. Awe-struck and startled Silka gazed wide-eyed upon her. For aninstant the two girls sat staring in silence into each other'seyes. So much alike they were that one face seemed the reflectionof the other, only there was a bloom, a light, a sweetness onSilka's that was missing in the other. 

"Why?" she breathed after that first startled silence, "what is thematter, Doolga? Tell me; tell me everything. "

She drew nearer her sister, and put one arm round her. The pinklight from without, striking through the tent canvas, touched herface, showing its delicately-cut, exquisite features and the tenderlove filling the eyes. 

"I hate the Sheik!" sobbed Doolga, putting down her head on theother's soft bare shoulder; "I don't want him. I love _him_!"

And Silka felt that everything indeed was told. The incoherent, inexplicable words were clear enough to her. She trembled all over, and the two girls clung together in the little tent, while thenoise of a large encampment awakening grew about them outside. 

Suddenly Doolga grew calm; she lifted her face, and Silka saw itwas grey, with great lines of anguish cut in it, and her heartseemed to contract with pain, for she loved Doolga better thananything she knew in the world, and Doolga's suffering was hersuffering. 

"I thought, father thought you would be glad to marry the Sheik, "she faltered. 

"I cannot. I will throw myself into the Nile rather; Silka, helpme!"

"How can I?"

"_You_ marry the Sheik!" Doolga's eyes were alight with flame. Something of the tiger's glare shone in them. She bent forward andseized the other girl's wrists in a feverish grip. The clasp hurtand burnt like fire. Silka drew back instinctively, paling withsurprise. 

"I marry the Sheik?" she repeated, "but--"

"Yes, you _must_! Oh, Silka, you have always loved me: save me now. I cannot. It will be death to me. I love--I love--" she hesitated;then added, "so much. You love no one. Why not then the Sheik? Dothis for me. I will think of you, bless you always. Save me fromdeath; save me from the Nile!"

The burning words, uttered low, in that strange, strained voice shehardly recognised, fell upon Silka like drops of molten lead. Hersister seemed mad: her eyes started forward from her livid face:her clasp on Silka's wrists gripped like iron. Silka's heart wasoverwhelmed with pity and distress. 

"How can I?" she murmured back, bewildered by the sudden revelationof misery in the other--this other that had grown up with her, played with her, slept with her side by side through the soft, hotnights when they had lain counting the stars through a chink in thetent. Side by side their bodies had nestled together, and side byside their hearts had always been. 

"You have but to unveil your face to the Sheik, " returned the otherquickly, eagerly, almost furiously, "and he will take you insteadof me. Think, Silka! the head of the tribe, fifty camels, athousand goats--" She stopped in her eager outpour of persuasion. Silka was looking at her straight from under her dark, level brows, her lips curled in a sorrowful disdain. 

"Have his riches any weight with you, Doolga? Why do you offer themto me?" she said proudly. 

"Because you are free: you do not love, " impetuously returned theother with glib, persistent vehemence. "I would marry the Sheik, Iwould prize his flocks, his riches; but I love--I love--I cannot!"

"Whom do you love so much?" replied Silka sadly. "Why have you nottold me? Who is he?"

The girls were seated on the bed in one corner of the tent closebeside its stretched canvas wall. There was a little eyelet, asquare hole with a flap buttoned down over it, on a level withtheir heads. At Silka's question Doolga turned to the canvas, and, with an impatient movement, tore up the flap and looked out. Theplain was bathed in gold: above, the pure, pink glow still hung inthe limpid sky. The encampment was astir. The tents were open, andlittle cooking fires, sending up their spirals of blue smoke weredotted over the sand. At a few paces' distance from the main row oftents, the camels, lying down, made a velvet-like patch of shade onthe gleaming gold of the sand, and herds of white goats stood near, their silky coats flashing in the morning sunlight. Silka lookedout, too, over her sister's shoulder. She saw the burnished gold ofthe plain and the luminous sky, and between these two a figurethat stood by a low brown tent, with the sunlight falling full onits noble brow and the straight profile turned towards them. Doolgawrung Silka's hand, that she still clutched, as they knelt side byside on the sheepskin looking through the eyelet. 

"That is he!" she said, and Silka's lips parted suddenly in alittle scream of pain. 

"What is the matter?" asked Doolga roughly, drawing her back fromthe aperture, and letting the flap fall. 

"You hurt me, " replied Silka. "Is that the one you love?" Her voicesounded tremulous: her eyes, fixed on Doolga, seemed to widen withincreasing pain. 

"Yes, that is he; that is Melun, " answered Doolga softly. "Is henot handsome, wonderful? Why do you stare so? Might not any girllove him?"

A little smile played round Silka's lips. 

"Yes, indeed, any girl might love him, " she answered. 

"But not as I do--no, never! Oh, Silka, I cannot tell you how Ilove him. More than the Nile, more than the stars, more than wehave ever loved each other! I have met him often when I went todraw water, and sometimes we have stayed together in thepalm-grove. I was so happy till father sold me to the Sheik; andnow I must part from Melun for ever! Do not make me, dear, darlingSilka; do not send me to the Nile!" She spoke with increasingexcitement, with passionate intensity. She was close to Silka, andshe laid one arm softly round her neck and put her face close tohers. Such a beautiful oval face it was!--the face that Silkaloved: as she looked at it, her heart melted within her. 

"See, dearest Silka, " continued the other coaxingly, "you havenothing to do but to unveil before the Sheik; you are just like me, only a thousand times lovelier. He will not want me then, but you. You can say to our father: As I am fairer than my sister, he willgive you two more camels. Father will be pleased with the camels, and I shall be left free to marry Melun. "

"But suppose I don't want to marry the Sheik either, " said Silka, slowly stroking the curls of the sheepskin as she looked down uponit. 

"But why should you not? he has flocks and herds; he will give younecklets and bracelets, and a camel to ride, and take you to theoasis? Why should you mind?"

"It is late, Doolga. Father will be returning soon. Go, fill yoururns at the well. "

"But will you promise--?"

"I can promise nothing yet. Go, go, leave me, you must let me thinka little. "

Doolga got up well satisfied. She knew Silka had never refused heranything since they had first played as babies together in thesand. Silka loved her. Silka had never denied her anything. 

She took her large earthenware jar, poised it on her shoulder, andwent out of the tent into the hot light. Silka lay on the sheepskinwhere her sister had left her, and turned her face to it, shakenwith a storm of feeling that convulsed her slender body from headto foot. She heard none of the cheerful sounds of life stirringround the tent; she heard only Doolga's threat of the Nile, herpassionate pleading for help. Her face was buried in the sheepskin, yet she saw plainly in the wall of darkness before her eyeballsthe figure of the Bishâreen standing out against the pink light ofthe morning sky. So it was Melun that Doolga loved! And to Melunall her own passionate impulsive heart had been given through hereyes. Had she not, morning after morning, gazed out through thesquare eyelet to catch a glimpse of him as he came from his tent, dressed in his snowy white linen tunic, and with countless stringsof coloured beads twisted round the firm column of his throat andhanging from his arms? Melun, the necklace-seller of Assouan!Melun, that the foreign tourists stopped to gaze after, as hewalked with slow and stately steps beneath the lebek trees on the"boulvard" by the Nile. Young and straight and slender, with abeautiful face and form, he never offered his wares for sale. Hesimply stood and looked at the tourists, and they came and boughtlargely. They came up to him with curious eyes to chaffer for hisblue-glass beads, and stare at his smooth, perfectly-moulded armsand throat, at the wonderfully straight features, and the loftycarriage of his head, at the thick hair, like fine, black wool, that waved above his forehead and clustered round the nape of hisneck, interwoven with his brilliant blue beads. Ah! how she lovedMelun! how she had dreamed of the day when her elder sister, happily married, she herself could go to her father and say, "LetMelun, the necklace-seller, come to the tent and see my face. " Andnow, not for him, but for the old hard-visaged Sheik, she was askedto unveil. "I cannot do it; no, I cannot, " she muttered to herself, and the thought of Melun came to her softly. "I have but to look athim, and he must love me; he is mine. " Did not her mirror tell herthis each morning? Had not her sister but now said the same? Shesmiled to herself, and balm seemed poured through her. Then therecame another thought piercing her like a dagger. Melun is not mine, but hers. She loves him; he loves her. They have met in thepalm-grove. Never, never, could she unveil for him now. He mustnever see her. Though he loved her a thousand times, yet wouldshe never take him from Doolga. Doolga, bright, graceful, andbeautiful, the light of her eyes, the joy of the tent! could shebear to see her brought through the door cold, motionless, lifeless, killed by the embrace of the Nile?

When Doolga returned with the flush of warmth on her cheek and thejar full of shimmering water on her shoulder, Silka was sittingupright on the bed with dry, wide eyes. One glance at her toldDoolga that she herself was free, that the other would take up herburden and bear it for her. She crossed over with a quick beautifulmovement, lithe, free, untamed. 

"Darling Silka, you will consent? you will promise?"

"Do you meet him often in the palm-grove?" returned Silka; it wasnow her eyes that were full of flame as she met her sister's. 

"Why--Melun? Yes, whenever it was possible. To-night there will beno moon; I was going, but why should you ask?" She bent forwardquickly, eagerly, some faint suspicion stirring in her. 

"If I do this for you--if I save you--if I show myself to theSheik, then you must let me go to the palm-grove to-night. "

Doolga fell back from her, surprise and terror and horror minglingin her face. She clasped her small, soft hands together and wrungthem. 

"Oh, Silka! you know, if he sees you, he will not look at me again;he will not care. "

Silka smiled a slow, painful smile. 

"Do you not see?" she said in a whisper. "I shall go as you. Whowill know it is not you? Not Melun. He will be expecting you! hehas never seen me. I will not betray myself nor you, but this is mycondition. To-morrow I go in your stead to the Sheik; to-night, Igo in your stead to Melun. "

Doolga stared at her, barely comprehending. 

"But why--why?" she stammered in return. 

"I go to the Sheik in your stead because I love you, and to Melunin your stead because I love him, " replied Silka firmly. 

There was a smile in her eyes, but her lips were pale, compressed, and sad. Doolga gazed at her in silence, both hands clasped tightlynow over her swelling breast. Astonishment, gratitude, mistrust, and jealousy were all struggling together within it for mastery. 

"You love Melun too?" she said at last. "Then why do you not takehim? One glance from you and he is yours. "

"He was yours first, " answered Silka miserably. "I cannot take himfrom you. "

"And you will marry the Sheik to save me?"

"Yes, " replied Silka. 

Then Doolga fell on her knees and thanked Silka and kissed her, andDoolga's kisses were very sweet, and while those lips pressed hersSilka forgot everything else in the world. At last Doolga said in asudden recrudescence of jealousy:

"In the grove to-night you will not--" and the rest was whispered. 

"No, " answered Silka; "I am the bride of the Sheik. You need fearnothing. But I must see Melun; all my life long I shall feed onyour happiness. There will be nothing else for me. I shall live onit. To do this I must have a vision of it before I go, and it willstay by me for ever. "

That afternoon the tent was gay with unrolled silks and scarletrugs, and coffee stood out in little porcelain cups upon the floor, for the Sheik Ilbrahim had come to the final parley for his bride. He sat before the coffee-cups on a black goat-skin, the pipe ofhonour placed beside him. A grave, quiet man, with kind eyes, butalready far on in the winter of life. Opposite him sat his host, the owner of the tent and father of the girls. Shrewd-eyed, keen-faced, quietly he did his bargaining. Earlier in the day theelder girl had laid the plan before him: herself for Melun, thenecklace-seller of Assouan, who owned neither camels nor goats, butwould pay well in silver straight from the hands of the tourists;her younger sister for the Sheik, who would give doubtless two morecamels for her wonderful beauty. The father listened placidly. Itwas not a bad bargain. 

"But, " he answered finally, "why should you not go to the Sheik nowfor two camels and by and by another will come for your sister andgive four camels. Then shall I have had six for the two of you. "

"But she may die, " objected the ready Doolga, the keen-witteddaughter of her father. "Better secure the camels now, father. "

"True, she may die, and the bargain be lost, " mused the father, and at last he spread out his hands with a gesture of conclusion. 

"It is for the Sheik to decide, " he said merely, and Doolga wascontent. She knew beforehand what the Sheik would decide when hesaw her sister. Now the two girls sat clasped in each other's armsbehind a curtain hung across a corner of the tent, and waitedsilently till they should be summoned. 

"If she be fairer than your daughter Doolga, " they heard the Sheiksay good-humouredly, "she must be fair indeed, and worth fourcamels. Let me see her. "

At those words Silka rose and stepped from behind the littlecurtain. With timid steps she came forward to the centre of thetent. A linen tunic clasped round the base of her throat fellalmost to her ankles, caught lightly in at the waist by a scarletcord; loose sleeves falling from the shoulder half-concealed herrounded arms; but her lovely face, with its arching brows andliquid eyes, looked out unveiled from her frame of cloudy hair, anddrew the Sheik's heart towards her. Wrapt in the enthusiasm of theholiest of all loves, that of sister for sister, tense with theardour of her sacrifice, a light shone out from the tender soulwithin that fired all her beauty, making it burn like the sun, andintoxicate like wine. 

Her father eyed her, and wished he had asked five camels. 

The Sheik stretched out his right hand towards her. 

"Are you pleased to come, my daughter, to the oasis of roses withme?"

"My lord beholds his slave, " answered Silka, and her eyes were fullof light, and her lips were curved in smiles. 

"My camels, four of the best, will find their stable behind yourtent to-night, " said the Sheik to her father, and he filled the cuphe had drunk from and handed it to the girl. Silka raised it to herlips. 

"Does it please my lord that he fetch me to-morrow, and leave me inmy father's tent to-night?"

The Sheik laughed good-naturedly, his eyes fixed on the pleading, youthful face. 

"It pleases me not to leave you; but if you ask me, little one, Iwill not refuse. Let it be so. "

As he spoke Silka drained the coffee-cup he had given her, and byso doing bound herself to him henceforward. 

There was no moon that night; it was dark with the darkness of thedesert, and the splendour of its million stars. As Silka camesoftly from the tent she looked upwards; the wild heaving of herbosom seemed repeated in that restless, pulsing light above. Thesoft breath of the desert came to her; it whispered of Melunwaiting for her in the palm-grove. How happy she was! This waslife: one night of life was hers--no more. With the dawn came theend. This was her first--her last--night of life, but how exquisiteit was! The voice of the desert sang in her ears, the light softsand caressed her flying feet. Within bounded her heart, buoyantwith leaping joy. Never had she realised the strength of her swift, straight ankles--never till now the free, joyous power in hersupple limbs. 

Before her rose the palm-grove, distinct in all its beauty offeathery-topped trees, against the gorgeous starlit sky. By herside gleamed now the line of the river, silver in the starlight;smooth and lovely, studded with its fierce black rocks, flanked byits orange sand, and here and there, on its edge in the radiantdarkness, rose a lofty palm lifting its swaying branches towardsthe jewelled sky. Silka looked at the river curiously. Now she waskeenly alive; life was sharp and alert in every fibre, but it wasthe last. This night of life was also a night of good-byes. To-morrow she would look on the river again, but she would be deadthen--dead to joy and to love; it would only be Doolga who would beliving rich in both these gifts--gifts given by her. The thoughtran through her with a tumultuous gladness. 

She entered the palm-grove and went straight to the tree thatDoolga had told her of, a withered palm. A figure sat at the footof the tree. The starlight gleamed on its white clothing. Silka'sfeet stopped mechanically as she saw him; her heart beat so thatshe could scarcely breathe; but he had caught sight of her, andsprang to his feet and came towards her. How wonderful he was withhis fine head set on that long, firm throat, and how sweet the facewhen his beautiful mouth broke into smiles as he saw her!

"Doolga!" he exclaimed, and then paused. She heard the little noteof wonder, of joy, in his voice, as she looked up at him in thesoft starlight, filtered through the palms. She was close to him, and his voice, his presence was a new wonder to her. 

"You are lovelier to-night than ever before. You have a new beauty, what is it?" and he stretched out his arms passionately to her andenfolded her in them close to his breast and kissed her. Then inone moment did the rose of life, that unfolds slowly for mostmortals petal by petal, bloom suddenly for her whole and complete, and fill her with its wild fragrance, overwhelming her senses. Thehappiness of a hundred lives was compressed into that one perfectmoment when his lips touched hers, and she saw his face hang overhers in the starlight, blazing with the fires of love. 

"This then is life, " she thought, as she put her arms round hisneck. "This is what I am giving to Doolga. "

"Am I really more beautiful to-night than I have been?" she askedpresently, as they sat crouched close side by side at the foot ofthe palm, looking towards the silver river. 

"A thousand times!" he answered passionately. "I have never lovedyou, never seen you as I do to-night. "

"Then you must always remember me as you see me now. However Doolgalooks to you in the future, always remember this night, and how youloved her then. "

And he took her more closely into his arms, and pressed kisses onher eyes, and told her in low murmured words of the tent he waspreparing for her, pitched where the cool breeze from the Nilewould reach them, and of the coming sunsets when she would sitawaiting his return in the doorway, and of the still radiant hoursof the desert night which would pass over them full of deliriousjoys; and the girl listened and lived out her life in those momentsagainst his heart. And ever as she listened, the thought of theSheik and his withered arms rose before her. Still it was Doolga'sfuture she looked into, the secrets of Doolga's happiness shelearned. As often as he murmured, "Doolga!" and caressed her, awave of joy passed through her. 

Three hours before the dawn they parted, and with slow, sad stepsshe returned to her father's tent. Her strength was spent. Lifeand she had finally separated. Entering the tent with noiselessfeet, no sound disturbed the sleeping chief, and she crept to whereher sister sat up, wild-eyed and sleepless, on the bed. 

"This he gave to Doolga, " she said, with her lips pressed toDoolga's ear, and passed over her head a necklace of faultlessbeads of jade. 

 * * * * *

The following day, when the last flare of the sunset lit up the skywith flame, and the delicate branches of the palms of the oasisshowed before them tipped with gold, the Sheik Ilbrahim bent overhis bride sitting before him on the camel, decked out with goldornaments in her hair. He saw her smiling, and a glory that was notof the sunset on her face. 

"Of what is my beloved one thinking?" he asked her. 

She looked up, but she did not see his face above her. She saw onlythe tent where the wind from the Nile could come, and Doolga withinradiant with the joy she had given her. 

"Of what should your slave be thinking, lord, " she answered, "butlove and happiness?"

VI

It was evening. A sky of purest emerald, luminous, transparent, anddivinely calm, stretched over the city of Damascus, that lies inits white glory, wrapped round by its mantle of foliage, in theheart of the burning desert--unhurt, cool, invulnerable in the jawsof the all-devouring desert sand. In the East, with the first coolbreath of evening comes a spirit of rejoicing: the heat and burdenof the day are over, and there is one hour of pure delight beforethe darkness. This hour had come to Damascus: the roses liftedtheir heads in the garden, the birds burst into joyous floods ofsong, and the trees waved and spread their branches to the littlebreeze that came rippling through the crystal air. 

Almost on the confines of the city, where the belt of protectingverdure grows thin and the gaunt face of the desert presses againstthe city walls, rose the square, white dwelling of Ahmed Ali, andhis garden was the largest and most beautiful of the city. Highwhite walls enclosed it on every side, and from the broad, travelled highway that ran beside it the dusty and wearied wayfareroften lifted his eyes to the profusion of gay roses, the syringa, and star-eyed jasmine that tumbled jubilantly over the edge, andhung their scented wreaths far above his head. The tinkling of afountain could be heard within, and the mad rapture of song fromthe birds in the evening, when the scent of the orange blossomstole softly out on the radiant golden air. On the other side ofthe garden was a grove of orange-trees. The rich, glossy, greenfoliage rose in dark masses above the high wall, and someinquisitive, encroaching boughs stretched over and occasionallydropped their golden fruit into Ahmed's garden. On the inside ofthe old, moss-grown wall were numerous buttresses, and in theseangles and corners, sheltered from any breeze, the roses and thesmall fruit-trees fairly rioted together, blending their masses ofpink and white bloom. 

On this evening, when the sky shone like one sheet of purestmother-of-pearl, green and rose and faint purple, the garden wasvery still; the only sound was the murmur of the falling water, thecoo of some white doves in a pear-tree, and a very light steppacing on the tiny narrow path that wound its way round the wholegarden amongst the rose-bushes and lemon-trees. 

Dilama, the youngest of the ladies of the harem, was walking in thegarden with her white veil thrown back and a smile on her small, red, curling lips. She stooped here and there to gather a flowerwhenever a bud or blossom of particular beauty caught her eye, andfastened now one against her thick brown hair, and now one or twoupon the rich-embroidered muslin that covered the upper part of herbosom. She was intensely happy: in the spring at Damascus, atseventeen and in love, who would not be happy? The fires of youthand love and joy burned in her flesh and danced in her veins andshone in her eyes, and she sang and smiled to herself as shegathered the flowers. She was a Druze woman, and gifted with thewonderful beauty that Nature has showered on the women of Syria. Skins that the most perfect Saxon skin of milk and rose canscarcely rival are wedded to eyes of Eastern midnight and browntresses filled with shining lights of red and gold. She had beenborn in the fierce, barren mountains lying behind Beirut, and ateight years old had drifted--part of the spoils of a raid--into thekeeping of Ahmed Ali, the richest landowner and merchant ofDamascus. He was a Turk, of pure Turkish blood, and with the large, generous heart and the kindly nature of the Turk. All the life thatowed him allegiance, that was supported by his hand, was happy andwell cared for--from the magnificent black horses, ignorant of whipand spur, that filled his stables, and the dogs that lay peacefullyabout in his palace, to the beauties of the harem, who trippedabout gaily singing and laughing in their cool halls and shadedgarden. Where the Turk rules there is usually peace, for his natureis pacific, and in the palace of Ahmed there was joy and peace andlove and pleasure in abundance. There were seven ladies of theharem, including Dilama, and six of these were happy wives ofAhmed. Each had one or more sons, handsome, large-eyed, sedatelittle Mohammedans, who were being trained by Turkish mothers inall sorts of gentle ways and manners--in thought and care forothers, in courtesy and kindness; and who were very different intheir childish work and play from the brawling, selfish, cruellittle monsters that European children of the same age mostly are. But Dilama was not yet Ahmed's wife; she loved him most truly anddeeply as an affectionate daughter. For who could not love Ahmed?There was a charm in his stately beauty of face and figure, in thekind musical voice, in the eyes so large and dark and gentle, thatwas irresistible. But to Dilama he was something far above her: herking, her lord indeed, for whom she would lay down life itselfwithout question, but not the man to whom her ardent simple naturehad turned for love. Ahmed had not sought her. When first she cameto his palace she had been too young except for him to treat asa pretty child, and the relationship of father and daughterthen established had never yet been broken in upon. And thelight-hearted, sunny-natured Druze girl had taken life just as shefound it, regarding herself as Ahmed's daughter, and rejoicing inher home of love and beauty she ceased to remember that one day hewould inevitably claim her as his wife, and that that day must bethe beginning or the end of happiness just as she prepared for it. But she did not prepare for it, she ignored it: flitting like somegolden butterfly through the pleasant hours, and growing fairerevery day, so that the harem women looked at her with a littlesinking of the heart yet no ill-will, and said amongst themselves, "Surely Ahmed must choose her soon. " But Ahmed loved at that timewith his whole soul a Turkish woman, and she was to give himshortly a second child, and for fear of disturbing her peace ofmind Ahmed remained in the Selamlik, and would not visit his otherwives, nor send for Dilama, though his eyes, like the others, notedher growing beauty day by day. 

"I will wait in patience, " he thought, looking out one morning atsunrise, and watching Dilama playing with the white doves on thebasin edge of the fountain. "I will wait till Buldoula is well andstrong again. She would fret now, and think I was forgetting her ina new love if I call Dilama to me yet. I will wait till her secondson is born, and then in her joy and pride she will not be jealousof the new wife. "

So he waited, but in the game of love he that waits is ever theloser. That night, when the moon was rising over the white and deepgreen of Damascus, Dilama walked, humming to herself, in thegarden, full of a great leaping desire, born of her youth and finehealth and the breath of the May night, to love and be loved. Suddenly, when she came to the corner, under the drooping boughs ofthe grove without the garden, an orange fell, and, just escapingher head struck her heavily on her bosom. With a great shock shestood still, looking up, and there, on the summit of the high wall, amid the green boughs, was a man sitting, leaning over down towardsher, with fiery eyes looking upon her from under a dark greenturban. 

"It is death to be here, " she whispered, her face pallid in themoonlight, "do not stay;" yet her whole being leapt up with hopethat he would disobey. The man laughed softly. 

"It is life to look on you, " he said merely, and to her terrifiedjoy and horrified delight he slid down between the lemon-trees andthe wall, and stood before her in the angle it made, where twobuttresses jutting forward hid him from all view unless one stooddirectly opposite. 

Dilama shook from head to foot; in one fierce, sweeping rush, love passed over and through her as she stood staring with wilddilated eyes on the form before her. Tall, tall as Ahmed, withall the grace and strength of youth, lithe and supple, with astraight-lined, dark-browed face above a stately throat, and darkkindling eyes, wells of living fire that called all her soul andheart and womanhood into life. 

"I have often watched you walking in the garden, " he murmured, gently taking in his, one nerveless hand. "I come from your villagein the hills, where you were taken from long ago. I am a Druze, "and he threw his head higher, as the stag of the forest throws hisat the first note of the challenge. Dilama knew well that he wasof her own people. Infant memories, instinctive, implantedconsciousness told her this without the aid of Druze clothing, orthe short, gay dagger thrust into his waist-sash. 

"I think you are not yet the wife of Ahmed Ali?" he went on, asshe simply trembled in silence, wave after wave of emotion passingthrough her, striking her heart and choking her voice. "Tell me?"

Dilama shook her head, and a triumphant smile curved the handsomelips before her. 

"I knew it; you are mine, " he said, in reply, and, bending over heras she stood shrinking, on the verge of fainting, between terrorand wonder and joy, he kissed her on the lips, not roughly--evengently--but with such a fire of life on his that it seemed to thegirl, in the destruction of all her usual feelings, in the havoc ofthe new ones called in their place, that the actual moment ofdissolution had come. 

That had been some three weeks ago, and now, on this soft, pearlyevening, she was waiting eagerly for the sky to deepen, and thelight of the stars to sharpen, and the orange to fall over thewall. For the Druze had come many times, and no one had discoveredthe lovers, screened by masses of roses in the buttress-shelteredcorner of the wall. In fact, for the last weeks no one had had timeor thought for anything but Buldoula, who lay sick within thepalace walls, and attendants waited anxiously or ran hither andthither on various errands, and Ahmed was in the depths of anxiety;and no one thought about Dilama or paid any attention to her, andshe was radiantly happy and self-engrossed, and came and wentbetween the garden and her own little chamber as she listed, undisturbed. And this evening, as usual, she slipped unobservedamongst the roses into the corner of the buttressed wall. A momentafter the boughs overhead parted, and the lithe Druze dropped downnoiselessly beside her. She put her gold braceleted arms round hisstrong brown neck, and pressed her silken-covered bosom hardagainst his rough cotton tunic. A great rush of rosy light floodedall the sky for some minutes, then began to pale softly before theapproach of the lustrous purple dark. 

In the palace a light behind one of the mushrabeared windows wasextinguished; there was the sound of the scurry of feet, and then along wail came out from the building, rending the pink-huedtwilight. 

"Buldoula is dead!" remarked Dilama simply, as the lovers crouchedtogether between the wall and the roses. It meant nothing to her, enclosed in the happy warmth of her lover's arms; death had nomeaning for her yet, hardly seventeen years' journey distant frombirth, and full of all the sap and great leaping fires of life. Death was something so far away, so impossible to realise. It wasbut a word to her--a casket enclosing nothing. Yet the death ofBuldoula was the embryo event in the womb of time from which was todevelop the whole tragedy of her own life. 

"Buldoula is dead, " she said again, carelessly, her rose-tippedfingers smoothing the black sweeping arch of the man's brows. "Perhaps her son is dead also. Ahmed will be very grieved--she wasgoing to bear her second son. "

"Little dove! I must take you away to the mountains soon, " said theDruze, clasping her tighter to him. "Soon, " he muttered again, stooping down to look under the rose-boughs to the white-facedhouse, now, with all its screened windows, dark. His words seemedirrelevant, yet they were not. He had a keen prescience that thedeath of the favourite of the harem might influence very quicklyDilama's fate. 

"Why not take me now, Murad? I want to see the mountains, " and shelaid her little head, crowned by its masses of brown-gold hair, onhis warm breast. 

"The caravan does not start for two weeks more, " he answeredthoughtfully. "We must wait for it. It would be madness to try toescape alone. We should be seen, noted, and tracked down. Think howAhmed will look for his treasure when he finds it stolen! But ifyou are hidden in a bale of goods on a camel in the caravan, whowill suspect, who will know that the Druze has taken you? The wholecaravan of Druzes cannot be stopped because Ahmed has lost a wife!No, in the caravan, with all the rest, we are safe. There is noother way. "

There was silence while the twilight deepened in the garden, andthe stars began to show above like flashing swords in the sky. Inthe languor of love that knows no fear and has no cares, thatopiate of the soul, Dilama lay in his arms and sought his lips andeyes, and asked no more about caravans and journeys and mountains, drugged and heavy with love. In an hour when all was velvetblackness beneath the wall, they kissed farewell. He scaled thecrumbling bricks, and regained the sheltering orange grove, and shewalked slowly back, drawing smooth her filmy veil, towards thedarkened palace. 

Five days later at noontime, as Dilama was sitting in the gardenplaying with the tame white doves by the fountain, one of the blackfemale slaves approached her. Dilama looked up questioningly, holding a dove to her bosom. 

"The lord is sorrowing within for his dead wife and dead son. Hehas sent for you; go in, and lead him away from grief, " and thewoman smiled and prostrated herself before Dilama, who shrankinstinctively away like a frightened child. But there is only onelaw and one will in the harem, and she rose obediently, letting thedove go, and stood ready to follow the slave. That meaning smile onthe woman's face filled her with an intuitive, instinctive, undefined fear, and at the same instant there rushed over her therealisation of the great happiness that same smile would havebrought her had there been no Murad, had she fled from thatrose-filled corner on that first evening--had she, in a word, _waited_! This summons to the presence of their lord is what somany of the harem slaves pine and long for through weary months, and sometimes years. It came now to her, and it meant nothing butvague fear and dread. She followed the slave with unelastic steps, and her brain full of heavy thoughts; they passed the women'sapartments and went on to the Selamlik and to the room of Ahmed, that looked out with unscreened windows into the cool, deep greenof the garden. The slave drew back at the door, holding a curtainaside for the girl to enter. She went forward, the curtain fellbehind her, and she was alone with Ahmed. 

He was sitting opposite on a low divan or couch, clothed from headto foot in a deep blue robe, and with a turban of the same colourtwisted above his level brows--a kingly, majestic figure, and thegirl's heart beat and her eyelids fell as she crept slowly over thefloor towards him. At his feet she sank to her knees, and wouldhave put her forehead to the ground, but Ahmed bent forward, andclasping both her arms lifted her on to the couch beside him. 

"And you are the Druze child, Dilama?" he said gently, and leaninga little back from her, surveyed her intently with dark lustrouseyes. The girl felt swooning with terror; before his gaze her veryflesh seemed dissolving. It seemed as if her heart, her brain, withthe image of Murad stamped on them, would be laid bare to thosebrilliant, searching eyes. What would he not know, suspect, findout? What would he ask? demand of her? She could not ask herself. Was this to be the end of his paternal relationship to her? thebeginning of a new one? She dared not lift her eyes lest he shouldsee their terror; the blood burnt in the surface of all her fairskin, as if red-hot irons were pressed to it. And Ahmed, gazingupon her with the pure noonday light, softened by the leafy screenwithout pouring over her, drank in her fair Syrian beauty withdelight. The pale, rose-hued silken clothing she wore harmonisedwith the ivory and rose of her round arms and throat and cheeks, and threw up the masses of dark hair that fell beneath her veil toher slender waist. Ahmed very gently unbound the snowy garment fromher head and stroked her hair lightly, watching the gold gleams inits ripples as his hand passed over them. He saw her dismay, confusion, even her terror, and noticed the quiver of her hands andthe irregular leap of her bosom, but these did not dismay him. Hewas accustomed to be beloved even as he loved, and the women of theharem who came to him in fear left him with happy confidence. Heaffected now not to see her embarrassment, thinking it to be onlythat, and said quietly, "And you have been happy, Dilama, in myhouse?" The girl felt she must speak, though her throat seemedclosed and her tongue nerveless. 

"Very happy, " she faltered at last in a whisper. 

"But you have been lonely, perhaps?" he asked. "Have the roses anddoves in the garden been companions enough for you? Have you notbeen too much alone?"

In the heavy load of apprehension of intangible fear and horrorthat seemed stifling her, a madness of longing came over the girlto be free from her guilty secret, to have never known Murad. Nowshe could have looked up fearless, full of expectant joy! She couldhave loved this man; she knew it, now that she felt his loveapproaching her: hope was dying within her that ever again would heregard her simply as his daughter. She knew those tones of thevoice, she had heard them from Murad in the garden, but here thevoice was infinitely more refined, the sound of it exquisitelymusical; and now, that love for her was in it, it told her a newsecret, that she could have given love for love. She knew, thoughher eyelids were down, how beautiful the face was that bent overher: the straight, severe lines of it, the magnificent eyes andbrows burnt through her lids. Ah, why had he waited so long, or shenot waited longer?

Full of intolerable, irrepressible pain, she looked up at lastsuddenly. 

"Why did not my lord come into the garden, to the roses and dovesand--me?" she asked falteringly, her gaze held now irresistibly bythe dark orbs above her. Then, afraid of her own temerity, shebecame white as death under his gaze. 

But Ahmed was rather pleased by this first connected speech shehad made in the interview. It sounded to him like the tenderreproach of an amorous, expectant maiden, waiting eagerly for herlove, too long delayed. The under-meaning, the terrible regret forirrevocable ill, naturally escaped him. He smiled, and put his armround her shoulders. "Well, it is not too late, " he said, bendingover her. But the girl shrank from his arm, and he realised itinstantly. He was aware directly that there was some feeling in hernot quite fathomed nor understood. It puzzled him. He was far toodeep a thinker, far too refined a nature to treat his women asinanimate toys to be used for his amusement, either with or withouttheir consent, as the chance might be. He knew them to be, andtreated them as, individual souls, with right of will and desireequal to his own, and was too proud to accept the gift of the bodyunless he had first conquered the will. But usually there was nodifficulty. Nature had gifted Ahmed with all the best treasures inher jewel-box; beauty of face and form, strength and grace, charmof voice and presence--everything needed to ensnare and delightthe senses, and he was accustomed to be loved, passionately adored, and worshipped. He was naturally a connoisseur in such matters, andknew well and easily the truth or dissembling in them. But herethere was neither: the girl shrank from him instinctively, andseemed possessed by nothing but dumb, helpless fear that wasdistressing to him. Yet not all distressing, for even in the bestof male natures there always remains some of the instinctive desireof conquest, the delight in opposition, if not too prolonged, thelove of battle, the hope of victory; and to Ahmed, the invariablysuccessful lover, the resistance of this slight, rose-leaf creaturehe could crush with one blow of his hand roused suddenly all theprimitive joy of the chase, the excitement of pursuit. Only, wherewith some natures it would have been brutal and rapid, the end andtriumph assured, the prize the body; here it would be gentle anddexterous, the end dependent on another, the prize the soul--thesoul, the will, the most difficult quarry to capture, as Ahmedknew. 

He let his arm slip from her shoulders, and rose and walked overto the window, looking out for a moment into the delicious greenbeyond. Dilama half-sat, half-crouched upon the divan, not daringto stir, and watched him furtively. 

Ahmed stood for a moment, and there was dead silence in the room. Then he returned and came towards the couch, standing opposite it, and looking down at her. 

"Dilama, you seem very much afraid of me, and why is it? Look upand speak to me. There is no need for fear. Do you think I havecalled you here to force you to love me? There is no way of forcinglove. You are free to come and go to and from this room as youwill, but I am lonely and grieved, now Buldoula has been taken awayfrom me. I would like you to come here and play and sing to me, andconsole me; will you?"

Dilama ventured to lift her eyes to the kingly figure before her, and meeting the pained, dark eyes bent on her, and realising thatthere was nothing, indeed, to make her fear but her own guiltyconscience, she burst suddenly into an uncontrollable passion ofweeping, and slipping from the couch fell sobbing at his feet. 

Ahmed stooped and gathered her up in his arms, holding her to hisbreast, and this time she did not shrink from him, but lay thereunresisting, crying violently. For a moment the clasp of his arm, the touch of gentle sympathy, soothed and comforted her. For onewild moment she longed to confide in him, to tell him the reality. What would happen? Was it possible that Ahmed would pardon her, andlet her go to her own life, her own love and lover! No, it was notpossible--any other offence but this; theft or murder he could haveforgiven and sheltered, but this, no! Instinctively she knew andfelt it would not be possible to him--a Turk, free from prejudiceand superstition, liberal as he was--to forgive her crime. Deathfor herself and Murad was the best she could expect. Ahmed's ownhonour, the traditions of all his house, his great position wouldmake it impossible for him to let her pass from his, a Turk's haremto a Druze lover. The thought whirled from her sick brain, leavingall confused and hopeless as before, and her tears rained fast. Ahmed smoothed her soft hair and kissed her forehead gently, as itlay against his breast. 

"Go and fetch your music, and sing to me, " he whispered, as hersobs ceased. "See how lovely the spring time is; it is no time fortears, but for songs and--love. " He murmured the last word verysoftly and set her free. Without looking at him she slipped away tothe door in obedience to his command, and in a wild confusion offeeling in which pleasure struggled with fear. 

When she came back with her instrument, a small pear shaped guitarin appearance, she was more composed. Her eyes were still red andswollen, but the soft, elastic skin had already regained itscolouring. As she entered, soft bars of sunlight were fallingthrough the room, the window had been opened, and the song of thebirds came gaily through it. Ahmed had ordered coffee andsweetmeats to be brought, and these now stood on a small inlaidtable before her, on whose glistening arabesques of mother of pearlthe sunbeams twinkled merrily. Ahmed's eyes lighted up with tenderpleasure as he saw her enter, and she noted it. He was stillsitting on the couch, and held in his hand a small green leathercase--the counterpart of hundreds to be seen in the jewellers'windows in Paris. Dilama guessed at once it was some present forher. Unconsciously the light, gay, butterfly nature of the girlbegan to reassert itself in the knowledge that the final issue hadnot to be met then; that there was respite for her, delay; and anatural joy stirred in her looking across at Ahmed. It wassomething, after all, to be queen of the harem, to be wooed ingifts and smiles by its lord. 

"Come here!" he said to her, and as she approached he opened thecase and took from it a bracelet, a limp band of gold with a claspof rubies and diamonds that flashed a thousand sparkling rays intothe astonished eyes of the girl, accustomed only to the dull, uncutor poorly-cut gems of the East. 

"How wonderful! Is it for me, really?" she exclaimed, as Ahmed tookher unresisting arm and clasped the bracelet round it above theelbow, where it lent a new beauty to the flesh. 

"Now, take some coffee, and then you shall play to me while I restand smoke, " continued Ahmed, kissing her tenderly between the eyes, as she gazed up gratefully to him, and though she flushed andtrembled, this time she did not shrink from him. 

The coffee seemed more delicious than any that was served in theharemlik, and the gold-tipped cigarettes and the jam, made out ofrose leaves, that Ahmed pressed upon her, delighted her senses andhelped to make her think less of the passing hour and Murad, whowould be waiting in stormy passion for her, in the angle of thewall. "I can't help it; I can't help it!" she thought to herself asshe took up her instrument and bent over the strings to tune them, while Ahmed stretched himself at full length on the divan tolisten, with a scarlet cushion supporting his regal head. She couldboth sing and play well, for Ahmed loved music, and wiselyconsidered it a safe amusement--an outlet for superfluous passionsand unexpressed feelings--for the women of the harem. Instrumentswere provided in plenty, and instruction and all encouragementgiven to them to learn, and from her first day in the haremDilama's natural voice and talents had been noted and fostered. This afternoon, at first she was timid, and sang and playedstiffly, carefully, with a great attention to notes and strings;but slowly the calm and stillness of the beautiful sun-filled room, the scented air floating in from the garden, the tense atmosphereof passion about her, and the magic beauty of the face and formopposite influenced her, grew upon her, wrapped her round, and shebegan to sing passionately, ardently, with that abandonment, without which all music is a hollow sound. Her glorious voice, fresh, youthful, clear, and pure came rushing joyously over herlips and filled the room. Her spirits rose as she realised thepower she was exerting. She felt a little impatient at the thoughtof Murad. After all, she was a great lady, a lady of the harem ofAhmed Ali, the richest Turk in Damascus. She was dressed indelicate silks, and the jewels blazed on her arm. She was queen ofthe harem, and the beloved of its lord. He was most desirable toher and to all women, and, but for Murad, who seemed to stand likea black shadow between, she would have lain upon his breast withpure delight. She leant forward now, singing rapturously over theinstrument pressed close to her soft breast, while her rose-huedfingers leapt among its strings; a transparent flush, delicate asthe tint of a shell, glowed in her cheeks; her large, dark eyeslooked straight at Ahmed, drawing in all the proud beauty of hisface; her hair lay soft and thick without its veil above her brows, and one heavy tress fell forward over her shoulder to her knee. Ahmed lay watching her, his eyes filled with sombre fires, hiswhole soul listening to the song; and one other lay listening also, and this was Murad, crouching in the shade of the orange-treeplantation, catching with distended ears that flood of passionatemelody wafted to him over the still garden, from the window ofAhmed's apartment, from the Selamlik. 

When the song was finished, and the last notes had faltered softlyinto silence, Ahmed rose from his divan and crossed to where shesat. The room was full now of hot rosy light; the scent of theorange flowers poured in through the windows; the girl's sensesgrew confused and dizzy. Her cheeks were flaming with theexcitement and joy and effort and passion of her singing; hereyelids were cast down, and beneath them her eyes watched, half interror, half in a strained delight, the blue Persian slippersadvancing silently over the matting on the floor towards her. 

"Will Dilama stay with me to-night?"

The girl looked up, whitening to the lips, and slid to a kneelingposition. Terror at the thought of infidelity to Murad filled her;he would infallibly find it out and avenge himself. Her face workedconvulsively; she stretched out her hands with a gesture ofdespair. 

"What my lord wills: I am the slave of his wishes. "

Ahmed drew his level brows together, and for a moment lined theserene beauty of his forehead. He gazed at her with a steady, puzzled look, and at last a faint, half-quizzical smile relaxed hislips. What could this strange idea, this whim be, so unlike allEastern maiden's usual fancies? He had not yet solved the riddle, nor found the clue! he would do so, but in the meantime she must beleft her freedom. In all noble natures power brings with it aterrible responsibility, and the habit of stern self-control andlong forbearance. Ahmed's complete power over the frightened pieceof humanity before him brought upon him the necessity practicallyof surrender; for the Turk possesses one of the noblest and gentlenatures the human race can boast of. Ahmed remained silent for afew seconds, and the girl gazed upon him with dilated, fascinatedeyes. She noted in a dazed way how the dark blue robe parted on hisbreast and showed beneath a vest of gold silk, fastened a little tothe side by a single emerald; how the column of throat toweredabove these, supporting the oval face and beautifully-modelledchin, and above these again, and the commanding brows, shoneanother solitary emerald between the folds of his turban on hisforehead. 

Murad began to seem like a robber depriving her of all thesethings. There is no fidelity in the body. Fidelity is a thing ofthe mind, always at war with and striving to coerce those instinctsof the senses that are ever clamouring after the new and theunknown. Nature is ever driving us on to seek new mates. The mindwith its trammels of affection, gratitude, pity, consideration, isever dragging us back and seeking to tie us to the old. Nature'srule is fresh seasons, fresh mates, new hours, new loves. And hewho seeks fidelity must woo the mind, for the body cannot give it, and knows not its laws. 

After a minute's silence Ahmed stretched out his hand to her andraised her to her feet. His face had lost its smiles and fire; itwas grave and sombre-looking now, but his voice was gentle as heanswered her:

"You are free to return to the haremlik, " he said; "no one has anypower to coerce you. I wish you to come and go as you will. " Hewaved his hand towards the curtain with a gesture of dismissal, andthen turned away and rang a little silver bell on a table. Theblack slave appeared--it seemed almost instantly--before thecurtain; while Dilama still stood, motionless, irresolute, with acurious sense of disappointment, mingling with relief, stealingover her. Ahmed beckoned the slave to him, and said somethingin a low voice Dilama did not catch, but the last sentence sheoverheard. "Send Soutouma to me, " and without taking any furthernotice of Dilama, Ahmed turned back towards the divan, threwhimself upon it, and drew the pipe-stand towards him. 

The black slave, with a smile on her curving lips, motioned toDilama to precede her, and Dilama, with one look flung backward toAhmed's couch in the full sunlight of the window, passed under theheavy blue curtain out into the passage. "Send Soutouma to me!" thewords went through her with a cutting feeling, as a knife dividingher flesh. 

Soutouma was next to Buldoula in age and rank--a fair beauty of theharem, with soft, long, sunlit tresses, and a skin of snow. 

"Yes, why not? why not?" asked Dilama wildly to herself as her feetdragged along down the passage side by side with the grinningblack's. "I am a Druze girl: I belong to Murad and to themountains. " But the insidious charm of Ahmed's personality workedon all the pulses of her body; pulses that know not fidelity, though her brain kept telling her that Murad would be waiting forher in the garden. But that night Murad did not come. The gardenstood cool and fragrant, full of perfume and rosy light, full ofthe music of birds and the tints of a thousand flowers--all theinvitations to love, but love itself was absent. Dilama searchedthe garden from end to end, and walked in and out among the rosesby the buttressed wall, but the garden was empty and silent. Shewas alone. Tired at last, and ready to cry with fatigue anddisappointment, she sat down by the red brick wall, leaning herchin on her hand and gazing up towards the windows of the Selamlik, which could only be seen in portions here and there through a leafyscreen of plane-tree branches. How still it was in the garden, andhow the scent of the orange flower weighed on the senses! How clearthe pink, transparent air!

Through that same lucid air, under the spreading plane-trees, andthrough the great dim bazaars of the city, walked Murad thatevening with quick, hot feet, and the liquid coursing in his veinsseemed fire instead of blood. He went from Druze to Druze, whereverhe could find them, in their own homes, or sitting at a shadycorner of a street, where the tiny rush-bottomed stools aregathered round the tea-stalls with their hissing brazen urns andporcelain cups, or lounging in the bazaars, or at the marbledrinking-fountains. Wherever they were he found them, and spoke afew hot, eager words to them, urging them to hurry forward theirpreparations, and be ready to start with the caravan at the risingof the full moon. Then, as the rosy light changed into violet dusk, he went home to his low, yellow, square-roofed dwelling on the edgeof the desert, and sat there in his one unlighted room--sat theregazing out with unseeing eyes into the lustrous Damascus nightbeyond the open door, and with the fingers of his right handplaying absently with the handle of his knife. 

A week had passed over and Ahmed had not sent again for Dilama, norhad Murad visited the garden, and to the Eastern girl it seemed asif the world had stopped still. The hot, languid days, the gorgeousnights with the blaze of the stars and the rapture of thenightingales, filled her with madness that seemed insupportable. She knew of no reason for Murad's desertion. She could find outnothing. She did not dare to breathe a word to any one of theanxiety, the wonder, the desperation that seemed choking her. Whathad become of him? What had happened? Would he ever come again? Andas he appealed only to her senses, and he was not there, she ceasedto wish for him very much, but thought more of Ahmed and theSelamlik that were close to her. For the mind and the imaginationlove in absence and long after the absent one, but the senses arestirred by proximity, and turn to the one who is nearest. 

One evening, when the soft sky was a clear crimson and the fullmoon rose a perfect disk of transparent silver, faint as yet in theblood-red glow, Dilama felt as if she could exist no longer in thestill, even, unchanging peace of the women's apartments. The songof the water without, the coo of the doves, the incessantlyrepeated love-note of the mating sparrows, seemed to madden herbeyond endurance. 

She lay face downwards on the soft carpet of her littlesleeping-chamber, and moaned unconsciously aloud, "Let me die! letme die! I have lost favour with all men. "

The black slave was sitting cross-legged just outside the curtain, and when these slow, long drawn-out words came from the other sidea light gleamed in her shrewd, beady-black eyes. With one claw-likehand she cautiously drew back a fold of the curtain, and peering insaw the foremost lady of the harem lying prostrate, her facepressed to the floor. She made no sound, but dropping the curtainnoiselessly, sidled slowly off down the dark passage leading to theSelamlik. Ahmed was alone in his apartment when the slave appeared, sitting on the broad window ledge gazing out from the window whichoverlooked his grounds, and beyond them the white minarets andshining cupolas of the city. He turned at the interruption, but hisface lighted up with pleasure as he recognised the women'sattendant, and he signed to her to approach. 

"The Lady Dilama is weeping in her chamber, desiring my lord, "announced the slave, with much bowing and prostration, but stillwith that confidence which showed she knew how welcome the newswould be to her august listener. Ahmed rose, a fire of joy leapingup suddenly within him. 

"It is well, " he said, in an even tone. "Let the Lady Dilama cometo me, and for yourself take this, " and he dropped beside thecrouching heap of black back and shoulder a small velvet bag. Theslave grabbed it and put it in her breast, muttering a thousandthanks and blessings, and withdrew. 

Once outside, her lean black legs carried her swiftly back toDilama's room, where she pushed aside the curtain without ceremony. 

"Come!" she said imperiously, "you are Ahmed Ali's chosen one; hehas sent for you. Put off that torn veil, and all that weeping. Ihave new robes here for you. "

Dilama, who had hurriedly gathered herself up at the slave's entry, shrank away now into a corner of the room, white as death. 

"Has he sent for me?" she asked breathlessly. "Commanded me? Oh, must I go?"

The slave looked at her strangely. She had no suspicion of Dilama'ssecret, and had no idea that her own misrepresentations were asgross as they were. But she had no wish to be harsh or unkind tothis girl, who would be in a few hours queen of the harem. She waspuzzled. She drew near to Dilama's shrinking form, and peered intoher face. 

"Yes, he _commands_, " she said; "but is it possible you do notwish to go to Ahmed? He is a king amongst men, and he loves you. What better fate could there be than to lie on his breast, in hisarms? Is it not better than the ground to which you were cryingjust now? Surely you will reward me well to-morrow?"

Dilama answered nothing. Long shivers were passing through her. Itwas decided, then; she could no longer avoid her fate, and alreadywith that thought the Oriental calm of acceptance came to her. Besides, where was Murad? She could not tell. Fate had taken himfrom her, perhaps--the same Fate that gave her to Ahmed. She washelpless. She had no choice but to obey. And the words of theslave, accompanied by those piercing, meaning looks, inflamed hersenses. After that unbearable week of solitude the summons came toher not all unwelcome, and the supreme thought of Ahmed himselfloomed up suddenly, bringing irresistible joy with it. A flamepassed over her cheeks; she caught the slave's skinny black handbetween her own rose-leaf palms. 

"Yes, I will reward you, " she murmured. "Dress me beautifully, decorate me that I may find favour with Ahmed. "

The slave laughed meaningly. 

"Does the desert traveller burn and sigh after water, and then dothe springs of Damascus not find favour in his eyes?" she asked, and laughed again as she approached Dilama, and began to undressher. In a few minutes the whole of the haremlik was in a state ofpleasant excitement. The news of the dressing of the bride spreadinto its furthest corners, and the women came to talk and jest, andthe servants fled hither and thither upon errands. Dilama was ledinto the large general room, and there bathed from head to footwith warm rose-water; while the others sat round and chattedtogether, and admired her ivory skin, with the wild rose Syrianbloom upon it, and her masses of gold-tinted chestnut hair. And theblack slave bathed and anointed and dressed her with the utmostcare and great self-importance, and sent the underslaves flying inall directions, one to gather syringa, and other heavy-scentedblossoms from the garden, and another to fetch the jewels for herneck; and as the attar of rose bottle was found to be empty, aslave was sent with flying feet to the bazaar to purchase more; andDilama, excited and elated, surrounded by jest and laughter andsmiling faces, felt her youth leap up within her, and rejoice atcoming into its kingdom--love. 

In the bazaar the slave sped to the perfume-seller, and, swellingwith the importance of his mission, stayed a moment to chatter withthe dealer. 

"They are dressing a new bride for my master, and I must hastenback, " he gossiped, lounging on the merchant's little stall. "AhmedAli awaits her in the Selamlik; I must be going. They say herbeauty is wonderful; she is not a Turk, but a Syrian from themountains by Beirut. I must hasten: they will be waiting. "

"Yes, hasten on your way, " returned the perfume-seller. He was aTurk, dignified and gracious, and of no mind to listen to gossipfrom the harem, of which it was little short of scandalous to speakso publicly. He had other customers in his shop who could hear, amongst them a black-browed Druze in a green turban, who waswaiting patiently his turn, and who seemed to listen intently tothis most improper gossip. The slave disappeared with flying feetto catch up his wasted moments, but when the Turk turned to servethe silent Druze, he, too, had vanished, and some white-turbanedArabs pressed forward in his place. 

 * * * * *

Dilama in her lighted chamber, with her fresh young eyes a littlepainted beneath their lids, and heavy gold chains about her softyoung throat, sat looking into the little French mirror of cheapglass and gilt, and waiting for the attar of rose to be poured onher shining hair. 

At last the boy returned breathless, and the precious stuff waspoured on her hair and hands. Then she stood up radiant and thewomen sighed and smiled by turns as she went out, preceded by theold slave. A long narrow passage, lighted overhead by swingingcoloured lamps, divided the women's from the men's apartments, andthrough this they passed noiselessly over the matting-coveredfloor. At the end fell heavy curtains, concealing the door and somesteps. Here the slave left the girl, and Dilama went through thecurtains alone. She mounted the steps and passed through the door. All was quite silent here, and the passage unlighted, except thatthrough a tiny window high up above her head a streak of moonlightfell across her way. Dilama paused oppressed, she knew not by whatfeeling. Only a short passage and another curtained door dividedher now from Ahmed's presence. Her breath came fast, her pulsesbeat nervously, and her feet dragged; slowly and unwillingly shecrept onward, harassed by cold, vague fears. Before the door itselfshe trembled, and her soft hands and wrists hardly availed to pushit open. It yielded slowly, and fell to behind her in silence. 

The room was full of light; a silver blaze of moonlight illuminedit from end to end. The great windows, over which usually thecurtains were drawn, stood uncovered and wide open to the softDamascus air. The scent of roses and jessamine from the great man'sgarden stole in with the silver light. The girl paused when justover the threshold: she was cold and frightened, and her bodyshook. Ahmed did not move or speak. He was sitting sideways to onegreat window, with his head resting against the high back of theone European chair that the room possessed. The light was so strongthat the rich, deep blue of the turban was distinctly visible init, but his face was in shadow. She could see, however, the noblethroat and pose of the shoulders as he sat waiting. The girl'sheart beat with a little sense of pleasure as she looked. Her feetcrept slowly a little farther into the room. A great tide ofpleasure was really just outside her heart, and would have rushedin and overwhelmed it in waves of joy had she but opened herheart's doors to it; but the shadow of Murad was on the bolts andlocks, and she felt afraid. The silence and great silver light inthe room oppressed her. Ahmed had not heard her enter, and had notstirred nor looked at her. She crept a little closer. The beauty ofthe majestic figure called her irresistibly. She drew closer. Shehad passed one window now, and was near enough to see the jewelsflash on the slender hand that hung over the chair-arm, and theglistening light on the embroidered Turkish slippers on his feet. Shading her brow with one hand, Dilama came forward, fell at thosefeet and kissed them. Still there was no movement, no sound. Thiswas so unlike Ahmed's way of treating his slaves, that the girl, forgetting her fears, looked up in sheer surprise. Then her heartseemed to stop suddenly, and then leap with excessive thuds ofhorror against her breast. The face above her seemed carved instone, pale, bloodless, calm; it was set, as the girl realised in amoment of terror and agony, in a repose that would never be broken. The large, dark eyes, still open, gazed past her, sightless, changeless. Fear, her fear of him, her awe, her oppressed terrorfell from her, giving way to an infinite regret, a sorrow, a senseof loss that rushed over her, filling every cell, every atom of herbeing. She, the unwilling, the reluctant, the slow-coming, thegrudging bride, now stood free. The bridegroom asked of hernothing, demanded nothing, needed nothing, desired nothing. 

The slave-girl neither shrieked nor fainted. A great, convulsivesob tore itself from her trembling body as she rose from her kneesand bent over the sitting figure. Wildly she passed her soft, shaking fingers across his brow, still warm, and round his throat, seeking mechanically the wound; then her eyes fell on the gold silkof his tunic, and just over the left breast she saw a little brownpatch, and on the left side of the chair the silver light gleamedon a small, dark-red pool. He had been stabbed as he sat there, waiting for her--stabbed from the back, and the dagger thrustthrough to the little brown spot in the front of the tunic. Andthrough that tiny door his life had gone. 

Lying at his feet, Dilama sobbed uncontrollably, rolling her head, with its wonderful crown of flower-decked hair, and her pink-silkclad body amongst the rugs on the floor. What was the worth or useof anything now, silk or bridal attire, or beauty, or flower-deckedhair? Never would any of them now be mirrored in his eyes again. Never could anything change that awful serenity, that implacablesilence, out of which she felt her own love, her own desire rushupon her and devour her. Ahmed had been hers and she had shrunkfrom him, and now all the blood in her body she would have givenwillingly to replace that little scarlet stream that had borne awayhis life. 

As she lay there, weeping in an agony of despair, a dark shadowsuddenly grew in the window, and fell a black patch in the panel ofwhite light upon the floor. A lithe figure balanced a moment on theledge of the open window, then leapt with the silent elastic boundof a cat into the room. Dilama sprang from the floor to her kneeswith a smothered cry of terror. 

"Murad! why have you come here?"

The Druze leant over her and caught her arm fiercely. 

"To claim my own. It is not the first visit I have made to-night, as you see, " and as he dragged her up from her knees he indicatedthe motionless figure beside them. 

"You killed him!" she whispered, gazing up with dilated, terrifiedeyes. 

"Who should, if not I? Had he not taken my wife? Come, we must begoing. "

With the nail-like grip on her arm, and the low, savage tones inher ears, and the blazing eyes like a tiger's, inflamed with thelust of murder above her, the girl felt sick and half-fainting withfear and misery. 

"He did not take me. I was always faithful, Murad. I love you. I--" she stammered. 

"It is well, " returned Murad with a grim smile, "and these tears Isuppose are because I was too long absent? It is true I have beensome time: I had much to do, and then I knew I was quite safe, nowI had settled all accounts with him. Come! the caravan is ready;the camels wait for you. "

He dragged her towards the open square, the great square of thewindow. Without, the night-flies and the moths danced in the silverbeams, the trees rose motionless and stately in the sultry air, thegracious hours moved on with all the tranquil splendour of theOriental night. The girl threw her eyes over the sitting figure, unmoved by all the strenuous passions fighting round it. Wildly, indespairing agony, she stretched out her arms towards it in a vain, unconscious passionate appeal. 

The Druze struck them downwards, and gripping her unresisting bodymore tightly, he leapt from the window to the slight woodenstaircase without, and, like a tiger with his prey, crept awaystealthily through the silver silence of the rose garden towardsthe desert.