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diff --git a/6267-h/6267-h.htm b/6267-h/6267-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..daf61ef --- /dev/null +++ b/6267-h/6267-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20371 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Weavers, by Gilbert Parker + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weavers, Complete, by Gilbert Parker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Weavers, Complete + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: October 18, 2006 [EBook #6267] +Last Updated: August 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEAVERS, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + THE WEAVERS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Gilbert Parker + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> NOTE </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> + CHAPTER I. </a> AS THE SPIRIT MOVED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE GATES OF THE WORLD + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> BANISHED + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE CALL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE WIDER + WAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> "HAST + THOU NEVER KILLED A MAN?” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER + VII. </a> THE COMPACT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII. </a> FOR HIS SOUL’S SAKE AND THE LAND’S SAKE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + LETTER, THE NIGHT, AND THE WOMAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> + CHAPTER X. </a> THE FOUR WHO KNEW <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> AGAINST THE HOUR OF + MIDNIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + JEHAD AND THE LIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> ACHMET THE ROPEMAKER STRIKES <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> BEYOND THE PALE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> SOOLSBY’S HAND UPON + THE CURTAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE + DEBT AND THE ACCOUNTING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> THE WOMAN OF THE CROSS-ROADS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> TIME, THE + IDOL-BREAKER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> SHARPER + THAN A SWORD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> EACH + AFTER HIS OWN ORDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. + </a> "THERE IS NOTHING HIDDEN WHICH SHALL NOT BE REVEALED” + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> AS IN + A GLASS DARKLY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE + TENTS OF CUSHAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> THE + QUESTIONER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE + VOICE THROUGH THE DOOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. + </a> "I OWE YOU NOTHING” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> + CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE AWAKENING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> NAHOUM TURNS THE + SCREW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> THE + RECOIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> LACEY + MOVES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> THE + STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER + XXXII. </a> FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> THE DARK INDENTURE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> NAHOUM + DROPS THE MASK “CLARIDGE PASHA!” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> + CHAPTER XXXV. </a> THE FLIGHT OF THE WOUNDED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> "IS IT ALWAYS SO—IN + LIFE?” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> THE + FLYING SHUTTLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. + </a> JASPER KIMBER SPEAKS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> FAITH JOURNEYS TO + LONDON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> HYLDA + SEEKS NAHOUM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> IN + THE LAND OF SHINAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. + </a> THE LOOM OF DESTINY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_GLOS"> + GLOSSARY. </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + When I turn over the hundreds of pages of this book, I have a feeling that + I am looking upon something for which I have no particular responsibility, + though it has a strange contour of familiarity. It is as though one looks + upon a scene in which one had lived and moved, with the friendly yet + half-distant feeling that it once was one’s own possession but is so no + longer. I should think the feeling to be much like that of the old man + whose sons, gone to distant places, have created their own plantations of + life and have themselves become the masters of possessions. Also I suppose + that when I read the story through again from the first page to the last, + I shall recreate the feeling in which I lived when I wrote it, and it will + become a part of my own identity again. That distance between himself and + his work, however, which immediately begins to grow as soon as a book + leaves the author’s hands for those of the public, is a thing which, I + suppose, must come to one who produces a work of the imagination. It is no + doubt due to the fact that every piece of art which has individuality and + real likeness to the scenes and character it is intended to depict is done + in a kind of trance. The author, in effect, self-hypnotises himself, has + created an atmosphere which is separate and apart from that of his daily + surroundings, and by virtue of his imagination becomes absorbed in that + atmosphere. When the book is finished and it goes forth, when the + imagination is relaxed and the concentration of mind is withdrawn, the + atmosphere disappears, and then. One experiences what I feel when I take + up ‘The Weavers’ and, in a sense, wonder how it was done, such as it is. + </p> + <p> + The frontispiece of the English edition represents a scene in the House of + Commons, and this brings to my mind a warning which was given me similar + to that on my entering new fields outside the one in which I first made a + reputation in fiction. When, in a certain year, I determined that I would + enter the House of Commons I had many friends who, in effect, wailed and + gnashed their teeth. They said that it would be the death of my + imaginative faculties; that I should never write anything any more; that + all the qualities which make literature living and compelling would + disappear. I thought this was all wrong then, and I know it is all wrong + now. Political life does certainly interfere with the amount of work which + an author may produce. He certainly cannot write a book every year and do + political work as well, but if he does not attempt to do the two things on + the same days, as it were, but in blocks of time devoted to each + separately and respectively, he will only find, as I have found, that + public life the conflict of it, the accompanying attrition of mind, the + searching for the things which will solve the problems of national life, + the multitudinous variations of character with which one comes in contact, + the big issues suddenly sprung upon the congregation of responsible + politicians, all are stimulating to the imagination, invigorating to the + mind, and marvellously freshening to every literary instinct. No danger to + the writer lies in doing political work, if it does not sap his strength + and destroy his health. Apart from that, he should not suffer. The very + spirit of statesmanship is imagination, vision; and the same quality which + enables an author to realise humanity for a book is necessary for him to + realise humanity in the crowded chamber of a Parliament. + </p> + <p> + So far as I can remember, whatever was written of The Weavers, no critic + said that it lacked imagination. Some critics said it was too crowded with + incident; that there was enough incident in it for two novels; some said + that the sweep was too wide, but no critic of authority declared that the + book lacked vision or the vivacity of a living narrative. It is not likely + that I shall ever write again a novel of Egypt, but I have made my + contribution to Anglo-Egyptian literature, and I do not think I failed + completely in showing the greatness of soul which enabled one man to keep + the torch of civilisation, of truth, justice, and wholesome love alight in + surroundings as offensive to civilisation as was Egypt in the last days of + Ismail Pasha—a time which could be well typified by the words put by + Bulwer Lytton in the mouth of Cardinal Richelieu: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I found France rent asunder, + Sloth in the mart and schism in the temple; + Broils festering to rebellion; and weak laws + Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. + I have re-created France; and, from the ashes + Of the old feudal and decrepit carcase, + Civilisation on her luminous wings + Soars, phoenix-like, to Jove!” + </pre> + <p> + Critics and readers have endeavoured to identify the main characteristics + of The Weavers with figures in Anglo-Egyptian and official public life. + David Claridge was, however, a creature of the imagination. It has been + said that he was drawn from General Gordon. I am not conscious of having + taken Gordon for David’s prototype, though, as I was saturated with all + that had been written about Gordon, there is no doubt that something of + that great man may have found its way into the character of David + Claridge. The true origin of David Claridge, however, may be found in a + short story called ‘All the World’s Mad’, in Donovan Pasha, which was + originally published by Lady Randolph Churchill in an ambitious but + defunct magazine called ‘The Anglo-Saxon Review’. The truth is that David + Claridge had his origin in a fairly close understanding of, and interest + in, Quaker life. I had Quaker relatives through the marriage of a + connection of my mother, and the original of Benn Claridge, the uncle of + David, is still alive, a very old man, who in my boyhood days wore the + broad brim and the straight preacher-like coat of the old-fashioned + Quaker. The grandmother of my wife was also a Quaker, and used the “thee” + and “thou” until the day of her death. + </p> + <p> + Here let me say that criticism came to me from several quarters both in + England and America on the use of these words thee and thou, and + statements were made that the kind of speech which I put into David + Claridge’s mouth was not Quaker speech. For instance, they would not have + it that a Quaker would say, “Thee will go with me”—as though they + were ashamed of the sweet inaccuracy of the objective pronoun being used + in the nominative; but hundreds of times I have myself heard Quakers use + “thee” in just such a way in England and America. The facts are, however, + that Quakers differ extensively in their habits, and there grew up in + England among the Quakers in certain districts a sense of shame for false + grammar which, to say the least, was very childish. To be deliberately and + boldly ungrammatical, when you serve both euphony and simplicity, is + merely to give archaic charm, not to be guilty of an offence. I have + friends in Derbyshire who still say “Thee thinks,” etc., and I must + confess that the picture of a Quaker rampant over my deliberate use of + this well-authenticated form of speech produced to my mind only the effect + of an infuriated sheep, when I remembered the peaceful attribute of Quaker + life and character. From another quarter came the assurance that I was + wrong when I set up a tombstone with a name upon it in a Quaker graveyard. + I received a sarcastic letter from a lady on the borders of Sussex and + Surrey upon this point, and I immediately sent her a first-class railway + ticket to enable her to visit the Quaker churchyard at Croydon, in Surrey, + where dead and gone Quakers have tombstones by the score, and inscriptions + on them also. It is a good thing to be accurate; it is desperately + essential in a novel. The average reader, in his triumph at discovering + some slight error of detail, would consign a masterpiece of imagination, + knowledge of life and character to the rubbish-heap. + </p> + <p> + I believe that ‘The Weavers’ represents a wider outlook of life, closer + understanding of the problems which perplex society, and a clearer view of + the verities than any previous book written by me, whatever its popularity + may have been. It appealed to the British public rather more than ‘The + Right of Way’, and the great public of America and the Oversea Dominions + gave it a welcome which enabled it to take its place beside ‘The Right of + Way’, the success of which was unusual. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + NOTE + </h2> + <p> + This book is not intended to be an historical novel, nor are its + characters meant to be identified with well-known persons connected with + the history of England or of Egypt; but all that is essential in the tale + is based upon, and drawn from, the life of both countries. Though Egypt + has greatly changed during the past generation, away from Cairo and the + commercial centres the wheels of social progress have turned but slowly, + and much remains as it was in the days of which this book is a record in + the spirit of the life, at least. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + G. P. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dost thou spread the sail, throw the spear, swing the axe, lay + thy hand upon the plough, attend the furnace door, shepherd the + sheep upon the hills, gather corn from the field, or smite the + rock in the quarry? Yet, whatever thy task, thou art even as + one who twists the thread and throws the shuttle, weaving the + web of Life. Ye are all weavers, and Allah the Merciful, does + He not watch beside the loom?” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. AS THE SPIRIT MOVED + </h2> + <p> + The village lay in a valley which had been the bed of a great river in the + far-off days when Ireland, Wales and Brittany were joined together and the + Thames flowed into the Seine. The place had never known turmoil or stir. + For generations it had lived serenely. + </p> + <p> + Three buildings in the village stood out insistently, more by the + authority of their appearance and position than by their size. One was a + square, red-brick mansion in the centre of the village, surrounded by a + high, redbrick wall enclosing a garden. Another was a big, low, graceful + building with wings. It had once been a monastery. It was covered with + ivy, which grew thick and hungry upon it, and it was called the Cloistered + House. The last of the three was of wood, and of no great size—a + severely plain but dignified structure, looking like some council-hall of + a past era. Its heavy oak doors and windows with diamond panes, and its + air of order, cleanliness and serenity, gave it a commanding influence in + the picture. It was the key to the history of the village—a Quaker + Meeting-house. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily the village had built itself in such a way that it made a + wide avenue from the common at one end to the Meeting-house on the + gorse-grown upland at the other. With a demure resistance to the will of + its makers the village had made itself decorative. The people were + unconscious of any attractiveness in themselves or in their village. There + were, however, a few who felt the beauty stirring around them. These few, + for their knowledge and for the pleasure which it brought, paid the + accustomed price. The records of their lives were the only notable history + of the place since the days when their forefathers suffered for the faith. + </p> + <p> + One of these was a girl—for she was still but a child when she died; + and she had lived in the Red Mansion with the tall porch, the wide garden + behind, and the wall of apricots and peaches and clustering grapes. Her + story was not to cease when she was laid away in the stiff graveyard + behind the Meeting-house. It was to go on in the life of her son, whom to + bring into the world she had suffered undeserved, and loved with a passion + more in keeping with the beauty of the vale in which she lived than with + the piety found on the high-backed seats in the Quaker Meeting-house. The + name given her on the register of death was Mercy Claridge, and a line + beneath said that she was the daughter of Luke Claridge, that her age at + passing was nineteen years, and that “her soul was with the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Another whose life had given pages to the village history was one of noble + birth, the Earl of Eglington. He had died twenty years after the time when + Luke Claridge, against the then custom of the Quakers, set up a tombstone + to Mercy Claridge’s memory behind the Meeting-house. Only thrice in those + twenty years had he slept in a room of the Cloistered House. One of those + occasions was the day on which Luke Claridge put up the grey stone in the + graveyard, three years after his daughter’s death. On the night of that + day these two men met face to face in the garden of the Cloistered House. + It was said by a passer-by, who had involuntarily overheard, that Luke + Claridge had used harsh and profane words to Lord Eglington, though he had + no inkling of the subject of the bitter talk. He supposed, however, that + Luke had gone to reprove the other for a wasteful and wandering existence; + for desertion of that Quaker religion to which his grandfather, the third + Earl of Eglington, had turned in the second half of his life, never + visiting his estates in Ireland, and residing here among his new friends + to his last day. This listener—John Fairley was his name—kept + his own counsel. On two other occasions had Lord Eglington visited the + Cloistered House in the years that passed, and remained many months. Once + he brought his wife and child. The former was a cold, blue-eyed Saxon of + an old family, who smiled distantly upon the Quaker village; the latter, a + round-headed, warm-faced youth, with a bold, menacing eye, who probed into + this and that, rushed here and there as did his father; now built a + miniature mill; now experimented at some peril in the laboratory which had + been arranged in the Cloistered House for scientific experiments; now shot + partridges in the fields where partridges had not been shot for years; and + was as little in the picture as his adventurous father, though he wore a + broad-brimmed hat, smiling the while at the pain it gave to the simple + folk around him. + </p> + <p> + And yet once more the owner of the Cloistered House returned alone. The + blue-eyed lady was gone to her grave; the youth was abroad. This time he + came to die. He was found lying on the floor of his laboratory with a + broken retort in fragments beside him. With his servant, Luke Claridge was + the first to look upon him lying in the wreck of his last experiment, a + spirit-lamp still burning above him, in the grey light of a winter’s + morning. Luke Claridge closed the eyes, straightened the body, and crossed + the hands over the breast which had been the laboratory of many + conflicting passions of life. + </p> + <p> + The dead man had left instructions that his body should be buried in the + Quaker graveyard, but Luke Claridge and the Elders prevented that—he + had no right to the privileges of a Friend; and, as the only son was afar, + and no near relatives pressed the late Earl’s wishes, the ancient family + tomb in Ireland received all that was left of the owner of the Cloistered + House, which, with the estates in Ireland and the title, passed to the + wandering son. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE GATES OF THE WORLD + </h2> + <p> + Stillness in the Meeting-house, save for the light swish of one + graveyard-tree against the window-pane, and the slow breathing of the + Quaker folk who filled every corner. On the long bench at the upper end of + the room the Elders sat motionless, their hands on their knees, wearing + their hats; the women in their poke-bonnets kept their gaze upon their + laps. The heads of all save three were averted, and they were Luke + Claridge, his only living daughter, called Faith, and his dead daughter’s + son David, who kept his eyes fixed on the window where the twig flicked + against the pane. The eyes of Faith, who sat on a bench at one side, + travelled from David to her father constantly; and if, once or twice, the + plain rebuke of Luke Claridge’s look compelled her eyes upon her folded + hands, still she was watchful and waiting, and seemed demurely to defy the + convention of unblinking silence. As time went on, others of her sex stole + glances at Mercy’s son from the depths of their bonnets; and at last, + after over an hour, they and all were drawn to look steadily at the young + man upon whose business this Meeting of Discipline had been called. The + air grew warmer and warmer, but no one became restless; all seemed as cool + of face and body as the grey gowns and coats with grey steel buttons which + they wore. + </p> + <p> + At last a shrill voice broke the stillness. Raising his head, one of the + Elders said: “Thee will stand up, friend.” He looked at David. + </p> + <p> + With a slight gesture of relief the young man stood up. He was good to + look at-clean-shaven, broad of brow, fine of figure, composed of carriage, + though it was not the composure of the people by whom he was surrounded. + They were dignified, he was graceful; they were consistently slow of + movement, but at times his quick gestures showed that he had not been able + to train his spirit to that passiveness by which he lived surrounded. + Their eyes were slow and quiet, more meditative than observant; his were + changeful in expression, now abstracted, now dark and shining as though + some inner fire was burning. The head, too, had a habit of coming up + quickly with an almost wilful gesture, and with an air which, in others, + might have been called pride. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy name?” said another owl-like Elder to him. + </p> + <p> + A gentle, half-amused smile flickered at the young man’s lips for an + instant, then, “David Claridge—still,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + His last word stirred the meeting. A sort of ruffle went through the + atmosphere, and now every eye was fixed and inquiring. The word was + ominous. He was there on his trial, and for discipline; and it was thought + by all that, as many days had passed since his offence was committed, + meditation and prayer should have done their work. Now, however, in the + tone of his voice, as it clothed the last word, there was something of + defiance. On the ear of his grandfather, Luke Claridge, it fell heavily. + The old man’s lips closed tightly, he clasped his hands between his knees + with apparent self-repression. + </p> + <p> + The second Elder who had spoken was he who had once heard Luke Claridge + use profane words in the Cloistered House. Feeling trouble ahead, and + liking the young man and his brother Elder, Luke Claridge, John Fairley + sought now to take the case into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + “Thee shall never find a better name, David,” he said, “if thee live a + hundred years. It hath served well in England. This thee didst do. While + the young Earl of Eglington was being brought home, with noise and + brawling, after his return to Parliament, thee mingled among the brawlers; + and because some evil words were said of thy hat and thy apparel, thee + laid about thee, bringing one to the dust, so that his life was in peril + for some hours to come. Jasper Kimber was his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Were it not that the smitten man forgave thee, thee would now be in a + prison cell,” shrilly piped the Elder who had asked his name. + </p> + <p> + “The fight was fair,” was the young man’s reply. “Though I am a Friend, + the man was English.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee was that day a son of Belial,” rejoined the shrill Elder. “Thee did + use thy hands like any heathen sailor—is it not the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “I struck the man. I punished him—why enlarge?” + </p> + <p> + “Thee is guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “I did the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “That is one charge against thee. There are others. Thee was seen to drink + of spirits in a public-house at Heddington that day. Twice—thrice, + like any drunken collier.” + </p> + <p> + “Twice,” was the prompt correction. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause, in which some women sighed and others folded + and unfolded their hands on their laps; the men frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has been a dark deceiver,” said the shrill Elder again, and with a + ring of acrid triumph; “thee has hid these things from our eyes many + years, but in one day thee has uncovered all. Thee—” + </p> + <p> + “Thee is charged,” interposed Elder Fairley, “with visiting a play this + same day, and with seeing a dance of Spain following upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not disdain the music,” said the young man drily; “the flute, of + all instruments, has a mellow sound.” Suddenly his eyes darkened, he + became abstracted, and gazed at the window where the twig flicked softly + against the pane, and the heat of summer palpitated in the air. “It has + good grace to my ear,” he added slowly. + </p> + <p> + Luke Claridge looked at him intently. He began to realize that there were + forces stirring in his grandson which had no beginning in Claridge blood, + and were not nurtured in the garden with the fruited wall. He was not used + to problems; he had only a code, which he had rigidly kept. He had now a + glimmer of something beyond code or creed. + </p> + <p> + He saw that the shrill Elder was going to speak. He intervened. “Thee is + charged, David,” he said coldly, “with kissing a woman—a stranger + and a wanton—where the four roads meet ‘twixt here and yonder town.” + He motioned towards the hills. + </p> + <p> + “In the open day,” added the shrill Elder, a red spot burning on each + withered cheek. + </p> + <p> + “The woman was comely,” said the young man, with a tone of irony, + recovering an impassive look. + </p> + <p> + A strange silence fell, the women looked down; yet they seemed not so + confounded as the men. After a moment they watched the young man with + quicker flashes of the eye. + </p> + <p> + “The answer is shameless,” said the shrill Elder. “Thy life is that of a + carnal hypocrite.” + </p> + <p> + The young man said nothing. His face had become very pale, his lips were + set, and presently he sat down and folded his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Thee is guilty of all?” asked John Fairley. + </p> + <p> + His kindly eye was troubled, for he had spent numberless hours in this + young man’s company, and together they had read books of travel and + history, and even the plays of Shakespeare and Marlowe, though drama was + anathema to the Society of Friends—they did not realize it in the + life around them. That which was drama was either the visitation of God or + the dark deeds of man, from which they must avert their eyes. Their own + tragedies they hid beneath their grey coats and bodices; their dirty linen + they never washed in public, save in the scandal such as this where the + Society must intervene. Then the linen was not only washed, but duly + starched, sprinkled, and ironed. + </p> + <p> + “I have answered all. Judge by my words,” said David gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Has repentance come to thee? Is it thy will to suffer that which we may + decide for thy correction?” It was Elder Fairley who spoke. He was + determined to control the meeting and to influence its judgment. He loved + the young man. + </p> + <p> + David made no reply; he seemed lost in thought. “Let the discipline + proceed—he hath an evil spirit,” said the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + “His childhood lacked in much,” said Elder Fairley patiently. + </p> + <p> + To most minds present the words carried home—to every woman who had + a child, to every man who had lost a wife and had a motherless son. This + much they knew of David’s real history, that Mercy Claridge, his mother, + on a visit to the house of an uncle at Portsmouth, her mother’s brother, + had eloped with and was duly married to the captain of a merchant ship. + They also knew that, after some months, Luke Claridge had brought her + home; and that before her child was born news came that the ship her + husband sailed had gone down with all on board. They knew likewise that + she had died soon after David came, and that her father, Luke Claridge, + buried her in her maiden name, and brought the boy up as his son, not with + his father’s name but bearing that name so long honoured in England, and + even in the far places of the earth—for had not Benn Claridge, + Luke’s brother, been a great carpet-merchant, traveller, and explorer in + Asia Minor, Egypt, and the Soudan—Benn Claridge of the whimsical + speech, the pious life? All this they knew; but none of them, to his or + her knowledge, had ever seen David’s father. He was legendary; though + there was full proof that the girl had been duly married. That had been + laid before the Elders by Luke Claridge on an occasion when Benn Claridge, + his brother was come among them again from the East. + </p> + <p> + At this moment of trial David was thinking of his uncle, Benn Claridge, + and of his last words fifteen years before when going once again to the + East, accompanied by the Muslim chief Ebn Ezra, who had come with him to + England on the business of his country. These were Benn Claridge’s words: + “Love God before all, love thy fellow-man, and thy conscience will bring + thee safe home, lad.” + </p> + <p> + “If he will not repent, there is but one way,” said the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + “Let there be no haste,” said Luke Claridge, in a voice that shook a + little in his struggle for self-control. + </p> + <p> + Another heretofore silent Elder, sitting beside John Fairley, exchanged + words in a whisper with him, and then addressed them. He was a very small + man with a very high stock and spreading collar, a thin face, and large + wide eyes. He kept his chin down in his collar, but spoke at the ceiling + like one blind, though his eyes were sharp enough on occasion. His name + was Meacham. + </p> + <p> + “It is meet there shall be time for sorrow and repentance,” he said. + “This, I pray you all, be our will: that for three months David live + apart, even in the hut where lived the drunken chair-maker ere he + disappeared and died, as rumour saith—it hath no tenant. Let it be + that after to-morrow night at sunset none shall speak to him till that + time be come, the first day of winter. Till that day he shall speak to no + man, and shall be despised of the world, and—pray God—of + himself. Upon the first day of winter let it be that he come hither again + and speak with us.” + </p> + <p> + On the long stillness of assent that followed there came a voice across + the room, from within a grey-and-white bonnet, which shadowed a delicate + face shining with the flame of the spirit within. It was the face of Faith + Claridge, the sister of the woman in the graveyard, whose soul was “with + the Lord,” though she was but one year older and looked much younger than + her nephew, David. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, David,” she said softly. “Speak now. Doth not the spirit move + thee?” + </p> + <p> + She gave him his cue, for he had of purpose held his peace till all had + been said; and he had come to say some things which had been churning in + his mind too long. He caught the faint cool sarcasm in her tone, and + smiled unconsciously at her last words. She, at least, must have reasons + for her faith in him, must have grounds for his defence in painful days to + come; for painful they must be, whether he stayed to do their will, or + went into the fighting world where Quakers were few and life composite of + things they never knew in Hamley. + </p> + <p> + He got to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. After an instant + he broke silence. + </p> + <p> + “All those things of which I am accused, I did; and for them is asked + repentance. Before that day on which I did these things was there + complaint, or cause for it? Was my life evil? Did I think in secret that + which might not be done openly? Well, some things I did secretly. Ye shall + hear of them. I read where I might, and after my taste, many plays, and + found in them beauty and the soul of deep things. Tales I have read, but a + few, and John Milton, and Chaucer, and Bacon, and Montaigne, and Arab + poets also, whose books my uncle sent me. Was this sin in me?” + </p> + <p> + “It drove to a day of shame for thee,” said the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + He took no heed, but continued: “When I was a child I listened to the lark + as it rose from the meadow; and I hid myself in the hedge that, unseen, I + might hear it sing; and at night I waited till I could hear the + nightingale. I have heard the river singing, and the music of the trees. + At first I thought that this must be sin, since ye condemn the human voice + that sings, but I could feel no guilt. I heard men and women sing upon the + village green, and I sang also. I heard bands of music. One instrument + seemed to me more than all the rest. I bought one like it, and learned to + play. It was the flute—its note so soft and pleasant. I learned to + play it—years ago—in the woods of Beedon beyond the hill, and + I have felt no guilt from then till now. For these things I have no + repentance.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee has had good practice in deceit,” said the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly David’s manner changed. His voice became deeper; his eyes took on + that look of brilliance and heat which had given Luke Claridge anxious + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “I did, indeed, as the spirit moved me, even as ye have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Blasphemer, did the spirit move thee to brawl and fight, to drink and + curse, to kiss a wanton in the open road? What hath come upon thee?” Again + it was the voice of the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + “Judge me by the truth I speak,” he answered. “Save in these things my + life has been an unclasped book for all to read.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to the charge of brawling and drink, David,” rejoined the little + Elder Meacham with the high collar and gaze upon the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I not speak when I am moved? Ye have struck swiftly; I will draw + the arrow slowly from the wound. But, in truth, ye had good right to + wound. Naught but kindness have I had among you all; and I will answer. + Straightly have I lived since my birth. Yet betimes a torturing unrest of + mind was used to come upon me as I watched the world around us. I saw men + generous to their kind, industrious and brave, beloved by their fellows; + and I have seen these same men drink and dance and give themselves to + coarse, rough play like young dogs in a kennel. Yet, too, I have seen dark + things done in drink—the cheerful made morose, the gentle violent. + What was the temptation? What the secret? Was it but the low craving of + the flesh, or was it some primitive unrest, or craving of the soul, which, + clouded and baffled by time and labour and the wear of life, by this means + was given the witched medicament—a false freedom, a thrilling + forgetfulness? In ancient days the high, the humane, in search of cure for + poison, poisoned themselves, and then applied the antidote. He hath little + knowledge and less pity for sin who has never sinned. The day came when + all these things which other men did in my sight I did—openly. I + drank with them in the taverns—twice I drank. I met a lass in the + way. I kissed her. I sat beside her at the roadside and she told me her + brief, sad, evil story. One she had loved had left her. She was going to + London. I gave her what money I had—” + </p> + <p> + “And thy watch,” said a whispering voice from the Elders’ bench. + </p> + <p> + “Even so. And at the cross-roads I bade her goodbye with sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “There were those who saw,” said the shrill voice from the bench. + </p> + <p> + “They saw what I have said—no more. I had never tasted spirits in my + life. I had never kissed a woman’s lips. Till then I had never struck my + fellow-man; but before the sun went down I fought the man who drove the + lass in sorrow into the homeless world. I did not choose to fight; but + when I begged the man Jasper Kimber for the girl’s sake to follow and + bring her back, and he railed at me and made to fight me, I took off my + hat, and there I laid him in the dust.” + </p> + <p> + “No thanks to thee that he did not lie in his grave,” observed the shrill + Elder. + </p> + <p> + “In truth I hit hard,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + “How came thee expert with thy fists?” asked Elder Fairley, with the + shadow of a smile. + </p> + <p> + “A book I bought from London, a sack of corn, a hollow leather ball, and + an hour betimes with the drunken chair-maker in the hut by the lime-kiln + on the hill. He was once a sailor and a fighting man.” + </p> + <p> + A look of blank surprise ran slowly along the faces of the Elders. They + were in a fog of misunderstanding and reprobation. + </p> + <p> + “While yet my father”—he looked at Luke Claridge, whom he had ever + been taught to call his father—“shared the great business at + Heddington, and the ships came from Smyrna and Alexandria, I had some + small duties, as is well known. But that ceased, and there was little to + do. Sports are forbidden among us here, and my body grew sick, because the + mind had no labour. The world of work has thickened round us beyond the + hills. The great chimneys rise in a circle as far as eye can see on yonder + crests; but we slumber and sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough,” said a voice from among the women. “Thee has a friend + gone to London—thee knows the way. It leads from the cross-roads!” + </p> + <p> + Faith Claridge, who had listened to David’s speech, her heart panting, her + clear grey eyes—she had her mother’s eyes—fixed benignly on + him, turned to the quarter whence the voice came. Seeing who it was—a + widow who, with no demureness, had tried without avail to bring Luke + Claridge to her—her lips pressed together in a bitter smile, and she + said to her nephew clearly: + </p> + <p> + “Patience Spielman hath little hope of thee, David. Hope hath died in + her.” + </p> + <p> + A faint, prim smile passed across the faces of all present, for all knew + Faith’s allusion, and it relieved the tension of the past half-hour. From + the first moment David began to speak he had commanded his hearers. His + voice was low and even; but it had also a power which, when put to sudden + quiet use, compelled the hearer to an almost breathless silence, not so + much to the meaning of the words, but to the tone itself, to the man + behind it. His personal force was remarkable. Quiet and pale ordinarily, + his clear russet-brown hair falling in a wave over his forehead, when + roused, he seemed like some delicate engine made to do great labours. As + Faith said to him once, “David, thee looks as though thee could lift great + weights lightly.” When roused, his eyes lighted like a lamp, the whole man + seemed to pulsate. He had shocked, awed, and troubled his listeners. Yet + he had held them in his power, and was master of their minds. The + interjections had but given him new means to defend himself. After Faith + had spoken he looked slowly round. + </p> + <p> + “I am charged with being profane,” he said. “I do not remember. But is + there none among you who has not secretly used profane words and, neither + in secret nor openly, has repented? I am charged with drinking. On one day + of my life I drank openly. I did it because something in me kept crying + out, ‘Taste and see!’ I tasted and saw, and know; and I know that + oblivion, that brief pitiful respite from trouble, which this evil + tincture gives. I drank to know; and I found it lure me into a new + careless joy. The sun seemed brighter, men’s faces seemed happier, the + world sang about me, the blood ran swiftly, thoughts swarmed in my brain. + My feet were on the mountains, my hands were on the sails of great ships; + I was a conqueror. I understood the drunkard in the first withdrawal + begotten of this false stimulant. I drank to know. Is there none among you + who has, though it be but once, drunk secretly as I drank openly? If there + be none, then I am condemned.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said Elder Fairley’s voice from the bench. “In the open way by the + cross-roads I saw a woman. I saw she was in sorrow. I spoke to her. Tears + came to her eyes. I took her hand, and we sat down together. Of the rest I + have told you. I kissed her—a stranger. She was comely. And this I + know, that the matter ended by the cross-roads, and that by and forbidden + paths have easy travel. I kissed the woman openly—is there none + among you who has kissed secretly, and has kept the matter hidden? For him + I struck and injured, it was fair. Shall a man be beaten like a dog? + Kimber would have beaten me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherein has it all profited?” asked the shrill Elder querulously. + </p> + <p> + “I have knowledge. None shall do these things hereafter but I shall + understand. None shall go venturing, exploring, but I shall pray for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee will break thy heart and thy life exploring,” said Luke Claridge + bitterly. Experiment in life he did not understand, and even Benn + Claridge’s emigration to far lands had ever seemed to him a monstrous and + amazing thing, though it ended in the making of a great business in which + he himself had prospered, and from which he had now retired. He suddenly + realized that a day of trouble was at hand with this youth on whom his + heart doted, and it tortured him that he could not understand. + </p> + <p> + “By none of these things shall I break my life,” was David’s answer now. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood still and silent, then all at once he stretched out + his hands to them. “All these things I did were against our faith. I + desire forgiveness. I did them out of my own will; I will take up your + judgment. If there be no more to say, I will make ready to go to old + Soolsby’s hut on the hill till the set time be passed.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. Even the shrill Elder’s head was buried in his + breast. They were little likely to forego his penalty. There was a gentle + inflexibility in their natures born of long restraint and practised + determination. He must go out into blank silence and banishment until the + first day of winter. Yet, recalcitrant as they held him, their secret + hearts were with him, for there was none of them but had had happy + commerce with him; and they could think of no more bitter punishment than + to be cut off from their own society for three months. They were satisfied + he was being trained back to happiness and honour. + </p> + <p> + A new turn was given to events, however. The little wizened Elder Meacham + said: “The flute, friend—is it here?” + </p> + <p> + “I have it here,” David answered. + </p> + <p> + “Let us have music, then.” + </p> + <p> + “To what end?” interjected the shrill Elder. + </p> + <p> + “He hath averred he can play,” drily replied the other. “Let us judge + whether vanity breeds untruth in him.” + </p> + <p> + The furtive brightening of the eyes in the women was represented in the + men by an assumed look of abstraction in most; in others by a bland + assumption of judicial calm. A few, however, frowned, and would have + opposed the suggestion, but that curiosity mastered them. These watched + with darkening interest the flute, in three pieces, drawn from an inner + pocket and put together swiftly. + </p> + <p> + David raised the instrument to his lips, blew one low note, and then a + little run of notes, all smooth and soft. Mellowness and a sober sweetness + were in the tone. He paused a moment after this, and seemed questioning + what to play. And as he stood, the flute in his hands, his thoughts took + flight to his Uncle Benn, whose kindly, shrewd face and sharp brown eyes + were as present to him, and more real, than those of Luke Claridge, whom + he saw every day. Of late when he had thought of his uncle, however, + alternate depression and lightness of spirit had possessed him. Night + after night he had troubled sleep, and he had dreamed again and again that + his uncle knocked at his door, or came and stood beside his bed and spoke + to him. He had wakened suddenly and said “Yes” to a voice which seemed to + call to him. + </p> + <p> + Always his dreams and imaginings settled round his Uncle Benn, until he + had found himself trying to speak to the little brown man across the + thousand leagues of land and sea. He had found, too, in the past that when + he seemed to be really speaking to his uncle, when it seemed as though the + distance between them had been annihilated, that soon afterwards there + came a letter from him. Yet there had not been more than two or three a + year. They had been, however, like books of many pages, closely written, + in Arabic, in a crabbed characteristic hand, and full of the sorrow and + grandeur and misery of the East. How many books on the East David had read + he would hardly have been able to say; but something of the East had + entered into him, something of the philosophy of Mahomet and Buddha, and + the beauty of Omar Khayyam had given a touch of colour and intellect to + the narrow faith in which he had been schooled. He had found himself + replying to a question asked of him in Heddington, as to how he knew that + there was a God, in the words of a Muslim quoted by his uncle: “As I know + by the tracks in the sand whether a Man or Beast has passed there, so the + heaven with its stars, the earth with its fruits, show me that God has + passed.” Again, in reply to the same question, the reply of the same Arab + sprang to his lips—“Does the Morning want a Light to see it by?” + </p> + <p> + As he stood with his flute—his fingers now and then caressingly + rising and falling upon its little caverns, his mind travelled far to + those regions he had never seen, where his uncle traded, and explored. + Suddenly, the call he had heard in his sleep now came to him in this + waking reverie. His eyes withdrew from the tree at the window, as if + startled, and he almost called aloud in reply; but he realised where he + was. At last, raising the flute to his lips, as the eyes of Luke Claridge + closed with very trouble, he began to play. + </p> + <p> + Out in the woods of Beedon he had attuned his flute to the stir of leaves, + the murmur of streams, the song of birds, the boom and burden of storm; + and it was soft and deep as the throat of the bell-bird of Australian + wilds. Now it was mastered by the dreams he had dreamed of the East: the + desert skies, high and clear and burning, the desert sunsets, plaintive + and peaceful and unvaried—one lovely diffusion, in which day dies + without splendour and in a glow of pain. The long velvety tread of the + camel, the song of the camel-driver, the monotonous chant of the + river-man, with fingers mechanically falling on his little drum, the cry + of the eagle of the Libyan Hills, the lap of the heavy waters of the Dead + Sea down by Jericho, the battle-call of the Druses beyond Damascus, the + lonely gigantic figures at the mouth of the temple of Abou Simbel, looking + out with the eternal question to the unanswering desert, the delicate + ruins of moonlit Baalbec, with the snow mountains hovering above, the + green oases, and the deep wells where the caravans lay down in peace—all + these were pouring their influences on his mind in the little Quaker + village of Hamley where life was so bare, so grave. + </p> + <p> + The music he played was all his own, was instinctively translated from all + other influences into that which they who listened to him could + understand. Yet that sensuous beauty which the Quaker Society was so + concerned to banish from any part in their life was playing upon them now, + making the hearts of the women beat fast, thrilling them, turning + meditation into dreams, and giving the sight of the eyes far visions of + pleasure. So powerful was this influence that the shrill Elder twice + essayed to speak in protest, but was prevented by the wizened Elder + Meacham. When it seemed as if the aching, throbbing sweetness must surely + bring denunciation, David changed the music to a slow mourning cadence. It + was a wail of sorrow, a march to the grave, a benediction, a soft sound of + farewell, floating through the room and dying away into the mid-day sun. + </p> + <p> + There came a long silence after, and David sat with unmoving look upon the + distant prospect through the window. A woman’s sob broke the air. Faith’s + handkerchief was at her eyes. Only one quick sob, but it had been wrung + from her by the premonition suddenly come that the brother—he was + brother more than nephew—over whom her heart had yearned had, + indeed, come to the cross-roads, and that their ways would henceforth + divide. The punishment or banishment now to be meted out to him was as + nothing. It meant a few weeks of disgrace, of ban, of what, in effect, was + self-immolation, of that commanding justice of the Society which no one + yet save the late Earl of Eglington had defied. David could refuse to bear + punishment, but such a possibility had never occurred to her or to any one + present. She saw him taking his punishment as surely as though the law of + the land had him in its grasp. It was not that which she was fearing. But + she saw him moving out of her life. To her this music was the prelude of + her tragedy. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterwards Luke Claridge arose and spoke to David in austere + tones: “It is our will that thee begone to the chair-maker’s but upon the + hill till three months be passed, and that none have speech with thee + after sunset to-morrow even.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said all the Elders. + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said David, and put his flute into his pocket, and rose to go. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. BANISHED + </h2> + <p> + The chair-maker’s hut lay upon the north hillside about half-way between + the Meeting-house at one end of the village and the common at the other + end. It commanded the valley, had no house near it, and was sheltered from + the north wind by the hill-top which rose up behind it a hundred feet or + more. No road led to it—only a path up from the green of the + village, winding past a gulley and the deep cuts of old rivulets now over + grown by grass or bracken. It got the sun abundantly, and it was protected + from the full sweep of any storm. It had but two rooms, the floor was of + sanded earth, but it had windows on three sides, east, west, and south, + and the door looked south. Its furniture was a plank bed, a few shelves, a + bench, two chairs, some utensils, a fireplace of stone, a picture of the + Virgin and Child, and of a cardinal of the Church of Rome with a red hat—for + the chair-maker had been a Roman Catholic, the only one of that communion + in Hamley. Had he been a Protestant his vices would have made him + anathema, but, being what he was, his fellow-villagers had treated him + with kindness. + </p> + <p> + After the half-day in which he was permitted to make due preparations, lay + in store of provisions, and purchase a few sheep and hens, hither came + David Claridge. Here, too, came Faith, who was permitted one hour with him + before he began his life of willing isolation. Little was said as they + made the journey up the hill, driving the sheep before them, four strong + lads following with necessities—flour, rice, potatoes, and suchlike. + </p> + <p> + Arrived, the goods were deposited inside the hut, the lads were dismissed, + and David and Faith were left alone. David looked at his watch. They had + still a handful of minutes before the parting. These flew fast, and yet, + seated inside the door, and looking down at the village which the sun was + bathing in the last glowing of evening, they remained silent. Each knew + that a great change had come in their hitherto unchanging life, and it was + difficult to separate premonition from substantial fact. The present fact + did not represent all they felt, though it represented all on which they + might speak together now. + </p> + <p> + Looking round the room, at last Faith said: “Thee has all thee needs, + David? Thee is sure?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. “I know not yet how little man may need. I have lived in + plenty.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment her eyes rested on the Cloistered House. + </p> + <p> + “The Earl of Eglington would not call it plenty.” A shade passed over + David’s face. “I know not how he would measure. Is his own field so wide?” + </p> + <p> + “The spread of a peacock’s feather.” + </p> + <p> + “What does thee know of him?” David asked the question absently. + </p> + <p> + “I have eyes to see, Davy.” The shadows from that seeing were in her eyes + as she spoke, but he did not observe them. + </p> + <p> + “Thee sees but with half an eye,” she continued. “With both mine I have + seen horses and carriages, and tall footmen, and wine and silver, and + gilded furniture, and fine pictures, and rolls of new carpet—of + Uncle Benn’s best carpets, Davy—and a billiard-table, and much + else.” + </p> + <p> + A cloud slowly gathered over David’s face, and he turned to her with an + almost troubled surprise. “Thee has seen these things—and how?” + </p> + <p> + “One day—thee was in Devon—one of the women was taken ill. + They sent for me because the woman asked it. She was a Papist; but she + begged that I should go with her to the hospital, as there was no time to + send to Heddington for a nurse. She had seen me once in the house of the + toll-gate keeper. Ill as she was, I could have laughed, for, as we went in + the Earl’s carriage to the hospital-thirty miles it was—she said she + felt at home with me, my dress being so like a nun’s. It was then I saw + the Cloistered House within and learned what was afoot.” + </p> + <p> + “In the Earl’s carriage indeed—and the Earl?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in Ireland, burrowing among those tarnished baubles, his titles, + and stripping the Irish Peter to clothe the English Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “He means to make Hamley his home? From Ireland these furnishings come?” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems. Henceforth the Cloistered House will have its doors flung + wide. London and all the folk of Parliament will flutter along the dunes + of Hamley.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the bailiff will sit yonder within a year, for he is but a starved + Irish peer.” + </p> + <p> + “He lives to-day as though he would be rich tomorrow. He bids for fame and + fortune, Davy.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis as though a shirtless man should wear a broadcloth coat over a + cotton vest.” + </p> + <p> + “The world sees only the broadcloth coat. For the rest—” + </p> + <p> + “For the rest, Faith?” + </p> + <p> + “They see the man’s face, and—” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were embarrassed. A thought had flashed into his mind which he + considered unworthy, for this girl beside him was little likely to dwell + upon the face of a renegade peer, whose living among them was a constant + reminder of his father’s apostasy. She was too fine, dwelt in such high + spheres, that he could not think of her being touched by the glittering + adventures of this daring young member of Parliament, whose book of + travels had been published, only to herald his understood determination to + have office in the Government, not in due time, but in his own time. What + could there be in common between the sophisticated Eglington and this + sweet, primitively wholesome Quaker girl? + </p> + <p> + Faith read what was passing in his mind. She flushed—slowly flushed + until her face—and eyes were one soft glow, then she laid a hand + upon his arm and said: “Davy, I feel the truth about him—no more. + Nothing of him is for thee or me. His ways are not our ways.” She paused, + and then said solemnly: “He hath a devil. That I feel. But he hath also a + mind, and a cruel will. He will hew a path, or make others hew it for him. + He will make or break. Nothing will stand in his way, neither man nor + thing, those he loves nor those he hates. He will go on—and to go + on, all means, so they be not criminal, will be his. Men will prophesy + great things for him—they do so now. But nothing they prophesy, + Davy, keeps pace with his resolve.” + </p> + <p> + “How does thee know these things?” + </p> + <p> + His question was one of wonder and surprise. He had never before seen in + her this sharp discernment and criticism. + </p> + <p> + “How know I, Davy? I know him by studying thee. What thee is not he is. + What he is thee is not.” The last beams of the sun sent a sudden glint of + yellow to the green at their feet from the western hills, rising far over + and above the lower hills of the village, making a wide ocean of light, at + the bottom of which lay the Meeting-house and the Cloistered House, and + the Red Mansion with the fruited wall, and all the others, like dwellings + at the bottom of a golden sea. David’s eyes were on the distance, and the + far-seeing look was in his face which had so deeply impressed Faith in the + Meeting-house, by which she had read his future. + </p> + <p> + “And shall I not also go on?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “How far, who can tell?” + </p> + <p> + There was a plaintive note in her voice—the unavailing and sad + protest of the maternal spirit, of the keeper of the nest, who sees the + brood fly safely away, looking not back. + </p> + <p> + “What does thee see for me afar, Faith?” His look was eager. + </p> + <p> + “The will of God, which shall be done,” she said with a sudden resolution, + and stood up. Her hands were lightly clasped before her like those of + Titian’s Mater Dolorosa among the Rubens and Tintorettos of the Prado, a + lonely figure, whose lot it was to spend her life for others. Even as she + already had done; for thrice she had refused marriages suitable and + possible to her. In each case she had steeled her heart against loving, + that she might be all in all to her sister’s child and to her father. + There is no habit so powerful as the habit of care of others. In Faith it + came as near being a passion as passion could have a place in her + even-flowing blood, under that cool flesh, governed by a heart as fair as + the apricot blossoms on the wall in her father’s garden. She had been + bitterly hurt in the Meeting-house; as bitterly as is many a woman when + her lover has deceived her. David had acknowledged before them all that he + had played the flute secretly for years! That he should have played it was + nothing; that she should not have shared his secret, and so shared his + culpability before them all, was a wound which would take long to heal. + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his shoulder suddenly with a nervous little motion. + </p> + <p> + “And the will of God thee shall do to His honour, though thee is outcast + to-day.... But, Davy, the music-thee kept it from me.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her steadily; he read what was in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I hid it so, because I would not have thy conscience troubled. Thee would + go far to smother it for me; and I was not so ungrateful to thee. I did it + for good to thee.” + </p> + <p> + A smile passed across her lips. Never was woman so grateful, never wound + so quickly healed. She shook her head sadly at him, and stilling the proud + throbbing of her heart, she said: + </p> + <p> + “But thee played so well, Davy!” + </p> + <p> + He got up and turned his head away, lest he should laugh outright. Her + reasoning—though he was not worldly enough to call it feminine, and + though it scarce tallied with her argument—seemed to him quite her + own. + </p> + <p> + “How long have we?” he said over his shoulder. “The sun is yet five + minutes up, or more,” she said, a little breathlessly, for she saw his + hand inside his coat, and guessed his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “But thee will not dare to play—thee will not dare,” she said, but + more as an invitation than a rebuke. “Speech was denied me here, but not + my music. I find no sin in it.” + </p> + <p> + She eagerly watched him adjust the flute. Suddenly she drew to him the + chair from the doorway, and beckoned him to sit down. She sat where she + could see the sunset. + </p> + <p> + The music floated through the room and down the hillside, a searching + sweetness. + </p> + <p> + She kept her face ever on the far hills. It went on and on. At last it + stopped. David roused himself, as from a dream. “But it is dark!” he said, + startled. “It is past the time thee should be with me. My banishment began + at sunset.” + </p> + <p> + “Are all the sins to be thine?” she asked calmly. She had purposely let + him play beyond the time set for their being together. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Davy.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I will keep the music + for the sin’s remembrance,” she added, and went out into the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE CALL + </h2> + <p> + “England is in one of those passions so creditable to her moral sense, so + illustrative of her unregulated virtues. We are living in the first + excitement and horror of the news of the massacre of Christians at + Damascus. We are full of righteous and passionate indignation. ‘Punish—restore + the honour of the Christian nations’ is the proud appeal of prelate, prig, + and philanthropist, because some hundreds of Christians who knew their + danger, yet chose to take up their abode in a fanatical Muslim city of the + East, have suffered death.” + </p> + <p> + The meeting had been called in answer to an appeal from Exeter Hall. Lord + Eglington had been asked to speak, and these were among his closing words. + </p> + <p> + He had seen, as he thought, an opportunity for sensation. Politicians of + both sides, the press on all hands, were thundering denunciations upon the + city of Damascus, sitting insolent and satiated in its exquisite bloom of + pear and nectarine, and the deed itself was fading into that blank past of + Eastern life where there “are no birds in last year’s nest.” If he voyaged + with the crowd, his pennant would be lost in the clustering sails! So he + would move against the tide, and would startle, even if he did not + convince. + </p> + <p> + “Let us not translate an inflamed religious emotion into a war,” he + continued. “To what good? Would it restore one single life in Damascus? + Would it bind one broken heart? Would it give light to one darkened home? + Let us have care lest we be called a nation of hypocrites. I will neither + support nor oppose the resolution presented; I will content myself with + pointing the way to a greater national self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically, a few people who had scarcely apprehended the full force of + his remarks began to applaud; but there came cries of “‘Sh! ‘Sh!” and the + clapping of hands suddenly stopped. For a moment there was absolute + silence, in which the chairman adjusted his glasses and fumbled with the + agenda paper in his confusion, scarcely knowing what to do. The speaker + had been expected to second the resolution, and had not done so. There was + an awkward silence. Then, in a loud whisper, some one said: + </p> + <p> + “David, David, do thee speak.” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Faith Claridge. Perturbed and anxious, she had come to + the meeting with her father. They had not slept for nights, for the last + news they had had of Benn Claridge was from the city of Damascus, and they + were full of painful apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + It was the eve of the first day of winter, and David’s banishment was + over. Faith had seen David often at a distance—how often had she + stood in her window and looked up over the apricot-wall to the + chair-maker’s hut on the hill! According to his penalty David had never + come to Hamley village, but had lived alone, speaking to no one, avoided + by all, working out his punishment. Only the day before the meeting he had + read of the massacre at Damascus from a newspaper which had been left on + his doorstep overnight. Elder Fairley had so far broken the covenant of + ostracism and boycott, knowing David’s love for his Uncle Benn. + </p> + <p> + All that night David paced the hillside in anxiety and agitation, and saw + the sun rise upon a new world—a world of freedom, of home-returning, + yet a world which, during the past four months, had changed so greatly + that it would never seem the same again. + </p> + <p> + The sun was scarce two hours high when Faith and her father mounted the + hill to bring him home again. He had, however, gone to Heddington to learn + further news of the massacre. He was thinking of his Uncle Benn-all else + could wait. His anxiety was infinitely greater than that of Luke Claridge, + for his mind had been disturbed by frequent premonitions; and those sudden + calls in his sleep-his uncle’s voice—ever seemed to be waking him at + night. He had not meant to speak at the meeting, but the last words of the + speaker decided him; he was in a flame of indignation. He heard the voice + of Faith whisper over the heads of the people. “David, David, do thee + speak.” Turning, he met her eyes, then rose to his feet, came steadily to + the platform, and raised a finger towards the chairman. + </p> + <p> + A great whispering ran through the audience. Very many recognised him, and + all had heard of him—the history of his late banishment and + self-approving punishment were familiar to them. He climbed the steps of + the platform alertly, and the chairman welcomed him with nervous pleasure. + Any word from a Quaker, friendly to the feeling of national indignation, + would give the meeting the new direction which all desired. + </p> + <p> + Something in the face of the young man, grown thin and very pale during + the period of long thought and little food in the lonely and meditative + life he had led; something human and mysterious in the strange tale of his + one day’s mad doings, fascinated them. They had heard of the liquor he had + drunk, of the woman he had kissed at the cross-roads, of the man he had + fought, of his discipline and sentence. His clean, shapely figure, and the + soft austerity of the neat grey suit he wore, his broad-brimmed hat pushed + a little back, showing well a square white forehead—all conspired to + send a wave of feeling through the audience, which presently broke into + cheering. + </p> + <p> + Beginning with the usual formality, he said: “I am obliged to differ from + nearly every sentiment expressed by the Earl of Eglington, the member for + Levizes, who has just taken his seat.” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant’s pause, the audience cheered, and cries of delight + came from all parts of the house. “All good counsel has its sting,” he + continued, “but the good counsel of him who has just spoken is a sting in + a wound deeper than the skin. The noble Earl has bidden us to be + consistent and reasonable. I have risen here to speak for that to which + mere consistency and reason may do cruel violence. I am a man of peace, I + am the enemy of war—it is my faith and creed; yet I repudiate the + principle put forward by the Earl of Eglington, that you shall not clinch + your hand for the cause which is your heart’s cause, because, if you + smite, the smiting must be paid for.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by cheers and laughter, for the late event in his own + life came to them to point his argument. + </p> + <p> + “The nation that declines war may be refusing to inflict that just + punishment which alone can set the wrong-doers on the better course. It is + not the faith of that Society to which I belong to decline correction lest + it may seem like war.” + </p> + <p> + The point went home significantly, and cheering followed. “The high wall + of Tibet, a stark refusal to open the door to the wayfarer, I can + understand; but, friend”—he turned to the young peer—“friend, + I cannot understand a defence of him who opens the door upon terms of + mutual hospitality, and then, in the red blood of him who has so + contracted, blots out the just terms upon which they have agreed. Is that + thy faith, friend?” + </p> + <p> + The repetition of the word friend was almost like a gibe, though it was + not intended as such. There was none present, however, but knew of the + defection of the Earl’s father from the Society of Friends, and they chose + to interpret the reference to a direct challenge. It was a difficult + moment for the young Earl, but he only smiled, and cherished anger in his + heart. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes David spoke with force and power, and he ended with + passionate solemnity. His voice rang out: “The smoke of this burning rises + to Heaven, the winds that wail over scattered and homeless dust bear a + message of God to us. In the name of Mahomet, whose teaching condemns + treachery and murder, in the name of the Prince of Peace, who taught that + justice which makes for peace, I say it is England’s duty to lay the iron + hand of punishment upon this evil city and on the Government in whose + orbit it shines with so deathly a light. I fear it is that one of my + family and of my humble village lies beaten to death in Damascus. Yet not + because of that do I raise my voice here to-day. These many years Benn + Claridge carried his life in his hands, and in a good cause it was held + like the song of a bird, to be blown from his lips in the day of the Lord. + I speak only as an Englishman. I ask you to close your minds against the + words of this brilliant politician, who would have you settle a bill of + costs written in Christian blood, by a promise to pay, got through a + mockery of armed display in those waters on which once looked the eyes of + the Captain of our faith. Humanity has been put in the witness-box of the + world; let humanity give evidence.” + </p> + <p> + Women wept. Men waved their hats and cheered; the whole meeting rose to + its feet and gave vent to its feelings. + </p> + <p> + For some moments the tumult lasted, Eglington looking on with face + unmoved. As David turned to leave the table, however, he murmured, + “Peacemaker! Peacemaker!” and smiled sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + As the audience resumed their seats, two people were observed making their + way to the platform. One was Elder Fairley, leading the way to a tall + figure in a black robe covering another coloured robe, and wearing a large + white turban. Not seeing the new-comers, the chairman was about to put the + resolution; but a protesting hand from John Fairley stopped him, and in a + strange silence the two new-comers mounted the platform. David rose and + advanced to meet them. There flashed into his mind that this stranger in + Eastern garb was Ebn Ezra Bey, the old friend of Benn Claridge, of whom + his uncle had spoken and written so much. The same instinct drew Ebn Ezra + Bey to him—he saw the uncle’s look in the nephew’s face. In a + breathless stillness the Oriental said in perfect English, with a voice + monotonously musical: + </p> + <p> + “I came to thy house and found thee not. I have a message for thee from + the land where thine uncle sojourned with me.” + </p> + <p> + He took from a wallet a piece of paper and passed it to David, adding: “I + was thine uncle’s friend. He hath put off his sandals and walketh with + bare feet!” David read eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “It is time to go, Davy,” the paper said. “All that I have is thine. Go to + Egypt, and thee shall find it so. Ebn Ezra Bey will bring thee. Trust him + as I have done. He is a true man, though the Koran be his faith. They took + me from behind, Davy, so that I was spared temptation—I die as I + lived, a man of peace. It is too late to think how it might have gone had + we met face to face; but the will of God worketh not according to our + will. I can write no more. Luke, Faith, and Davy—dear Davy, the + night has come, and all’s well. Good morrow, Davy. Can you not hear me + call? I have called thee so often of late! Good morrow! Good morrow!... I + doff my hat, Davy—at last—to God!” + </p> + <p> + David’s face whitened. All his visions had been true visions, his dreams + true dreams. Brave Benn Claridge had called to him at his door—“Good + morrow! Good morrow! Good morrow!” Had he not heard the knocking and the + voice? Now all was made clear. His path lay open before him—a far + land called him, his quiet past was infinite leagues away. Already the + staff was in his hands and the cross-roads were sinking into the distance + behind. He was dimly conscious of the wan, shocked face of Faith in the + crowd beneath him, which seemed blurred and swaying, of the bowed head of + Luke Claridge, who, standing up, had taken off his hat in the presence of + this news of his brother’s death which he saw written in David’s face. + David stood for a moment before the great throng, numb and speechless. “It + is a message from Damascus,” he said at last, and could say no more. + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra Bey turned a grave face upon the audience. + </p> + <p> + “Will you hear me?” he said. “I am an Arab.” “Speak—speak!” came + from every side. + </p> + <p> + “The Turk hath done his evil work in Damascus,” he said. “All the + Christians are dead—save one; he hath turned Muslim, and is safe.” + His voice had a note of scorn. “It fell sudden and swift like a storm in + summer. There were no paths to safety. Soldiers and those who led them + shared in the slaying. As he and I who had travelled far together these + many years sojourned there in the way of business, I felt the air grow + colder, I saw the cloud gathering. I entreated, but he would not go. If + trouble must come, then he would be with the Christians in their peril. At + last he saw with me the truth. He had a plan of escape. There was a + Christian weaver with his wife in a far quarter—against my entreaty + he went to warn them. The storm broke. He was the first to fall, smitten + in ‘that street called Straight.’ I found him soon after. Thus did he + speak to me—even in these words: ‘The blood of women and children + shed here to-day shall cry from the ground. Unprovoked the host has turned + wickedly upon his guest. The storm has been sown, and the whirlwind must + be reaped. Out of this evil good shall come. Shall not the Judge of all + the earth do right?’ These were his last words to me then. As his life + ebbed out, he wrote a letter which I have brought hither to one”—he + turned to David—“whom he loved. At the last he took off his hat, and + lay with it in his hands, and died.... I am a Muslim, but the God of pity, + of justice, and of right is my God; and in His name be it said that was a + crime of Sheitan the accursed.” + </p> + <p> + In a low voice the chairman put the resolution. The Earl of Eglington + voted in its favour. + </p> + <p> + Walking the hills homeward with Ebn Ezra Bey, Luke, Faith, and John + Fairley, David kept saying over to himself the words of Benn Claridge: “I + have called thee so often of late. Good morrow! Good morrow! Good morrow! + Can you not hear me call?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE WIDER WAY + </h2> + <p> + Some months later the following letter came to David Claridge in Cairo + from Faith Claridge in Hamley: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + David, I write thee from the village and the land of the people + which thou didst once love so well. Does thee love them still? + They gave thee sour bread to eat ere thy going, but yet thee didst + grind the flour for the baking. Thee didst frighten all who knew + thee with thy doings that mad midsummer time. The tavern, the + theatre, the cross-roads, and the cockpit—was ever such a day! + + Now, Davy, I must tell of a strange thing. But first, a moment. + Thee remembers the man Kimber smitten by thee at the public-house on + that day? What think thee has happened? He followed to London the + lass kissed by thee, and besought her to return and marry him. This + she refused at first with anger; but afterwards she said that, if in + three years he was of the same mind, and stayed sober and hard- + working meanwhile, she would give him an answer, she would consider. + Her head was high. She has become maid to a lady of degree, who has + well befriended her. + + How do I know these things? Even from Jasper Kimber, who, on his + return from London, was taken to his bed with fever. Because of the + hard blows dealt him by thee, I went to make amends. He welcomed + me, and soon opened his whole mind. That mind has generous moments, + David, for he took to being thankful for thy knocks. + + Now for the strange thing I hinted. After visiting Jasper Kimber at + Heddington, as I came back over the hill by the path we all took + that day after the Meeting—Ebn Ezra Bey, my father, Elder Fairley, + and thee and me—I drew near the chairmaker’s but where thee lived + alone all those sad months. It was late evening; the sun had set. + Yet I felt that I must needs go and lay my hand in love upon the + door of the empty hut which had been ever as thee left it. So I + came down the little path swiftly, and then round the great rock, + and up towards the door. But, as I did so, my heart stood still, + for I heard voices. The door was open, but I could see no one. Yet + there the voices sounded, one sharp and peevish with anger, the + other low and rough. I could not hear what was said. At last, a + figure came from the door and went quickly down the hillside. Who, + think thee, was it? Even “neighbour Eglington.” I knew the walk + and the forward thrust of the head. Inside the hut all was still. + I drew near with a kind of fear, but yet I came to the door and + looked in. + + As I looked into the dusk, my limbs trembled under me, for who + should be sitting there, a half-finished chair between his knees, + but Soolsby the old chair-maker! Yes, it was he. There he sat + looking at me with his staring blue eyes and shock of redgrey hair. + “Soolsby! Soolsby!” said I, my heart hammering at my breast; for + was not Soolsby dead and buried? His eyes stared at me in fright. + “Why do you come?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Is he dead, then? + Has harm come to him?” + + By now I had recovered myself, for it was no ghost I saw, but a + human being more distraught than was myself. “Do you not know me, + Soolsby?” I asked. “You are Mercy Claridge from beyond—beyond and + away,” he answered dazedly. “I am Faith Claridge, Soolsby,” + answered I. He started, peered forward at me, and for a moment he + did not speak; then the fear went from his face. “Ay, Faith + Claridge, as I said,” he answered, with apparent understanding, his + stark mood passing. “No, thee said Mercy Claridge, Soolsby,” said + I, “and she has been asleep these many years.” “Ay, she has slept + soundly, thanks be to God!” he replied, and crossed himself. “Why + should thee call me by her name?” I inquired. “Ay, is not her tomb + in the churchyard?” he answered, and added quickly, “Luke Claridge + and I are of an age to a day—which, think you, will go first?” + + He stopped weaving, and peered over at me with his staring blue + eyes, and I felt a sudden quickening of the heart. For, at the + question, curtains seemed to drop from all around me, and leave me + in the midst of pains and miseries, in a chill air that froze me to + the marrow. I saw myself alone—thee in Egypt and I here, and none + of our blood and name beside me. For we are the last, Davy, the + last of the Claridges. But I said coldly, and with what was near to + anger, that he should link his name and fate with that of Luke + Claridge: “Which of ye two goes first is God’s will, and according + to His wisdom. Which, think thee,” added I—and now I cannot + forgive myself for saying it—“which, think thee, would do least + harm in going?” “I know which would do most good,” he answered, + with a harsh laugh in his throat. Yet his blue eyes looked kindly + at me, and now he began to nod pleasantly. I thought him a little + mad, but yet his speech had seemed not without dark meaning. “Thee + has had a visitor,” I said to him presently. He laughed in a + snarling way that made me shrink, and answered: “He wanted this and + he wanted that—his high-handed, second-best lordship. Ay, and he + would have it, because it pleased him to have it—like his father + before him. A poor sparrow on a tree-top, if you tell him he must + not have it, he will hunt it down the world till it is his, as + though it was a bird of paradise. And when he’s seen it fall at + last, he’ll remember but the fun of the chase; and the bird may get + to its tree-top again—if it can—if it can—if it can, my lord! + That is what his father was, the last Earl, and that is what he is + who left my door but now. He came to snatch old Soolsby’s palace, + his nest on the hill, to use it for a telescope, or such whimsies. + He has scientific tricks like his father before him. Now is it + astronomy, and now chemistry, and suchlike; and always it is the + Eglington mind, which let God A’mighty make it as a favour. He + would have old Soolsby’s palace for his spy-glass, would he then? + It scared him, as though I was the devil himself, to find me here. + I had but come back in time—a day later, and he would have sat here + and seen me in the Pit below before giving way. Possession’s nine + points were with me; and here I sat and faced him; and here he + stormed, and would do this and should do that; and I went on with my + work. Then he would buy my Colisyum, and I wouldn’t sell it for all + his puffball lordship might offer. Isn’t the house of the snail as + much to him as the turtle’s shell to the turtle? I’ll have no + upstart spilling his chemicals here, or devilling the stars from a + seat on my roof.” “Last autumn,” said I, “David Claridge was housed + here. Thy palace was a prison then.” “I know well of that. + Haven’t I found his records here? And do you think his makeshift + lordship did not remind me?” “Records? What records, Soolsby?” + asked I, most curious. “Writings of his thoughts which he forgot— + food for mind and body left in the cupboard.” “Give them to me upon + this instant, Soolsby,” said I. “All but one,” said he, “and that + is my own, for it was his mind upon Soolsby the drunken chair-maker. + God save him from the heathen sword that slew his uncle. Two better + men never sat upon a chair!” He placed the papers in my hand, all + save that one which spoke of him. Ah, David, what with the flute + and the pen, banishment was no pain to thee!... He placed the + papers, save that one, in my hands, and I, womanlike, asked again + for all. “Some day,” said he, “come, and I will read it to you. + Nay, I will give you a taste of it now,” he added, as he brought + forth the writing. “Thus it reads.” + + Here are thy words, Davy. What think thee of them now? + + “As I dwell in this house I know Soolsby as I never knew him when he + lived, and though, up here, I spent many an hour with him. Men + leave their impressions on all around them. The walls which have + felt their look and their breath, the floor which has taken their + footsteps, the chairs in which they have sat, have something of + their presence. I feel Soolsby here at times so sharply that it + would seem he came again and was in this room, though he is dead and + gone. I ask him how it came he lived here alone; how it came that + he made chairs, he, with brains enough to build great houses or + great bridges; how it was that drink and he were such friends; and + how he, a Catholic, lived here among us Quakers, so singular, + uncompanionable, and severe. I think it true, and sadly true, that + a man with a vice which he is able to satisfy easily and habitually, + even as another satisfies a virtue, may give up the wider actions of + the world and the possibilities of his life for the pleasure which + his one vice gives him, and neither miss nor desire those greater + chances of virtue or ambition which he has lost. The simplicity of + a vice may be as real as the simplicity of a virtue.” + + Ah, David, David, I know not what to think of those strange words; + but old Soolsby seemed well to understand thee, and he called thee + “a first-best gentleman.” Is my story long? Well, it was so + strange, and it fixed itself upon my mind so deeply, and thy + writings at the hut have been so much in my hands and in my mind, + that I have put it all down here. When I asked Soolsby how it came + he had been rumoured dead, he said that he himself had been the + cause of it; but for what purpose he would not say, save that he was + going a long voyage, and had made up his mind to return no more. “I + had a friend,” he said, “and I was set to go and see that friend + again.... But the years go on, and friends have an end. Life + spills faster than the years,” he said. And he would say no more, + but would walk with me even to my father’s door. “May the Blessed + Virgin and all the Saints be with you,” he said at parting, “if you + will have a blessing from them. And tell him who is beyond and away + in Egypt that old Soolsby’s busy making a chair for him to sit in + when the scarlet cloth is spread, and the East and West come to + salaam before him. Tell him the old man says his fluting will be + heard.” + + And now, David, I have told thee all, nearly. Remains to say that + thy one letter did our hearts good. My father reads it over and + over, and shakes his head sadly, for, truth is, he has a fear that + the world may lay its hand upon thee. One thing I do observe, his + heart is hard set against Lord Eglington. In degree it has ever + been so; but now it is like a constant frown upon his forehead. I + see him at his window looking out towards the Cloistered House; and + if our neighbour comes forth, perhaps upon his hunter, or now in his + cart, or again with his dogs, he draws his hat down upon his eyes + and whispers to himself. I think he is ever setting thee off + against Lord Eglington; and that is foolish, for Eglington is but a + man of the earth earthy. His is the soul of the adventurer. + + Now what more to be set down? I must ask thee how is thy friend Ebn + Ezra Bey? I am glad thee did find all he said was true, and that in + Damascus thee was able to set a mark by my uncle’s grave. But that + the Prince Pasha of Egypt has set up a claim against my uncle’s + property is evil news; though, thanks be to God, as my father says, + we have enough to keep us fed and clothed and housed. But do thee + keep enough of thy inheritance to bring thee safe home again to + those who love thee. England is ever grey, Davy, but without thee + it is grizzled—all one “Quaker drab,” as says the Philistine. But + it is a comely and a good land, and here we wait for thee. + + In love and remembrance. + + I am thy mother’s sister, thy most loving friend. + + FAITH. +</pre> + <p> + David received this letter as he was mounting a huge white Syrian donkey + to ride to the Mokattam Hills, which rise sharply behind Cairo, burning + and lonely and large. The cities of the dead Khalifas and Mamelukes + separated them from the living city where the fellah toiled, and Arab, + Bedouin, Copt strove together to intercept the fruits of his toiling, as + it passed in the form of taxes to the Palace of the Prince Pasha; while in + the dark corners crouched, waiting, the cormorant usurers—Greeks, + Armenians, and Syrians, a hideous salvage corps, who saved the house of a + man that they might at last walk off with his shirt and the cloth under + which he was carried to his grave. In a thousand narrow streets and lanes, + in the warm glow of the bazaars, in earth-damp huts, by blistering quays, + on the myriad ghiassas on the river, from long before sunrise till the + sunset-gun boomed from the citadel rising beside the great mosque whose + pinnacles seem to touch the blue, the slaves of the city of Prince Kaid + ground out their lives like corn between the millstones. + </p> + <p> + David had been long enough in Egypt to know what sort of toiling it was. A + man’s labour was not his own. The fellah gave labour and taxes and + backsheesh and life to the State, and the long line of tyrants above him, + under the sting of the kourbash; the high officials gave backsheesh to the + Prince Pasha, or to his Mouffetish, or to his Chief Eunuch, or to his + barber, or to some slave who had his ear. + </p> + <p> + But all the time the bright, unclouded sun looked down on a smiling land, + and in Cairo streets the din of the hammers, the voices of the boys + driving heavily laden donkeys, the call of the camel-drivers leading their + caravans into the great squares, the clang of the brasses of the + sherbet-sellers, the song of the vendor of sweetmeats, the drone of the + merchant praising his wares, went on amid scenes of wealth and luxury, and + the city glowed with colour and gleamed with light. Dark faces grinned + over the steaming pot at the door of the cafes, idlers on the benches + smoked hasheesh, female street-dancers bared their faces shamelessly to + the men, and indolent musicians beat on their tiny drums, and sang the + song of “O Seyyid,” or of “Antar”; and the reciter gave his sing-song tale + from a bench above his fellows. Here a devout Muslim, indifferent to the + presence of strangers, turned his face to the East, touched his forehead + to the ground, and said his prayers. There, hung to a tree by a deserted + mosque near by, the body of one who was with them all an hour before, and + who had paid the penalty for some real or imaginary crime; while his + fellows blessed Allah that the storm had passed them by. Guilt or + innocence did not weigh with them; and the dead criminal, if such he were, + who had drunk his glass of water and prayed to Allah, was, in their sight, + only fortunate and not disgraced, and had “gone to the bosom of Allah.” + Now the Muezzin from a minaret called to prayer, and the fellah in his + cotton shirt and yelek heard, laid his load aside, and yielded himself to + his one dear illusion, which would enable him to meet with apathy his end—it + might be to-morrow!—and go forth to that plenteous heaven where + wives without number awaited him, where fields would yield harvests + without labour, where rich food in gold dishes would be ever at his hand. + This was his faith. + </p> + <p> + David had now been in the country six months, rapidly perfecting his + knowledge of Arabic, speaking it always to his servant Mahommed Hassan, + whom he had picked from the streets. Ebn Ezra Bey had gone upon his own + business to Fazougli, the tropical Siberia of Egypt, to liberate, by order + of Prince Kaid,—and at a high price—a relative banished there. + David had not yet been fortunate with his own business—the + settlement of his Uncle Benn’s estate—though the last stages of + negotiation with the Prince Pasha seemed to have been reached. When he had + brought the influence of the British Consulate to bear, promises were + made, doors were opened wide, and Pasha and Bey offered him coffee and + talked to him sympathetically. They had respect for him more than for most + Franks, because the Prince Pasha had honoured him with especial favour. + Perhaps because David wore his hat always and the long coat with high + collar like a Turk, or because Prince Kaid was an acute judge of human + nature, and also because honesty was a thing he greatly desired—in + others—and never found near his own person; however it was, he had + set David high in his esteem at once. This esteem gave greater certainty + that any backsheesh coming from the estate of Benn Claridge would not be + sifted through many hands on its way to himself. Of Benn Claridge Prince + Kaid had scarcely even heard until he died; and, indeed, it was only + within the past few years that the Quaker merchant had extended his + business to Egypt and had made his headquarters at Assiout, up the river. + </p> + <p> + David’s donkey now picked its way carefully through the narrow streets of + the Moosky. Arabs and fellaheen squatting at street corners looked at him + with furtive interest. A foreigner of this character they had never before + seen, with coat buttoned up like an Egyptian official in the presence of + his superior, and this wide, droll hat on his head. David knew that he ran + risks, that his confidence invited the occasional madness of a fanatical + mind, which makes murder of the infidel a passport to heaven; but as a man + he took his chances, and as a Christian he believed he would suffer no + mortal hurt till his appointed time. He was more Oriental, more fatalist, + than he knew. He had also early in his life learned that an honest smile + begets confidence; and his face, grave and even a little austere in + outline, was usually lighted by a smile. + </p> + <p> + From the Mokattam Hills, where he read Faith’s letter again, his back + against one of the forts which Napoleon had built in his Egyptian days, he + scanned the distance. At his feet lay the great mosque, and the citadel, + whose guns controlled the city, could pour into it a lava stream of shot + and shell. The Nile wound its way through the green plains, stretching as + far to the north as eye could see between the opal and mauve and gold of + the Libyan Hills. Far over in the western vista a long line of trees, + twining through an oasis flanking the city, led out to a point where the + desert abruptly raised its hills of yellow sand. Here, enormous, lonely, + and cynical, the pyramids which Cheops had built, the stone sphinx of + Ghizeh, kept faith with the desert in the glow of rainless land-reminders + ever that the East, the mother of knowledge, will by knowledge prevail; + that: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The thousand years of thy insolence + The thousand years of thy faith, + Will be paid in fiery recompense, + And a thousand years of bitter death.” + </pre> + <p> + “The sword—for ever the sword,” David said to himself, as he looked: + “Rameses and David and Mahomet and Constantine, and how many conquests + have been made in the name of God! But after other conquests there have + been peace and order and law. Here in Egypt it is ever the sword, the + survival of the strongest.” + </p> + <p> + As he made his way down the hillside again he fell to thinking upon all + Faith had written. The return of the drunken chair-maker made a deep + impression on him—almost as deep as the waking dreams he had had of + his uncle calling him. + </p> + <p> + “Soolsby and me—what is there between Soolsby and me?” he asked + himself now as he made his way past the tombs of the Mamelukes. “He and I + are as far apart as the poles, and yet it comes to me now, with a strange + conviction, that somehow my life will be linked with that of the drunken + Romish chair-maker. To what end?” Then he fell to thinking of his Uncle + Benn. The East was calling him. “Something works within me to hold me + here, a work to do.” + </p> + <p> + From the ramparts of the citadel he watched the sun go down, bathing the + pyramids in a purple and golden light, throwing a glamour over all the + western plain, and making heavenly the far hills with a plaintive colour, + which spoke of peace and rest, but not of hope. As he stood watching, he + was conscious of people approaching. Voices mingled, there was light + laughter, little bursts of admiration, then lower tones, and then he was + roused by a voice calling. He turned round. A group of people were moving + towards the exit from the ramparts, and near himself stood a man waving an + adieu. + </p> + <p> + “Well, give my love to the girls,” said the man cheerily. Merry faces + looked back and nodded, and in a moment they were gone. The man turned + round, and looked at David, then he jerked his head in a friendly sort of + way and motioned towards the sunset. + </p> + <p> + “Good enough, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, for me,” answered David. On the instant he liked the red, + wholesome face, and the keen, round, blue eyes, the rather opulent figure, + the shrewd, whimsical smile, all aglow now with beaming sentimentality, + which had from its softest corner called out: “Well, give my love to the + girls.” + </p> + <p> + “Quaker, or I never saw Germantown and Philadelphy,” he continued, with a + friendly manner quite without offence. “I put my money on Quakers every + time.” + </p> + <p> + “But not from Germantown or Philadelphia,” answered David, declining a + cigar which his new acquaintance offered. + </p> + <p> + “Bet you, I know that all right. But I never saw Quakers anywhere else, + and I meant the tribe and not the tent. English, I bet? Of course, or you + wouldn’t be talking the English language—though I’ve heard they talk + it better in Boston than they do in England, and in Chicago they’re making + new English every day and improving on the patent. If Chicago can’t have + the newest thing, she won’t have anything. ‘High hopes that burn like + stars sublime,’ has Chicago. She won’t let Shakespeare or Milton be + standards much longer. She won’t have it—simply won’t have England + swaggering over the English language. Oh, she’s dizzy, is Chicago—simply + dizzy. I was born there. Parents, one Philadelphy, one New York, one + Pawtucket—the Pawtucket one was the step-mother. Father liked his + wives from the original States; but I was born in Chicago. My name is + Lacey—Thomas Tilman Lacey of Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank thee,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “David Claridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Of—?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Hamley.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Claridge of Hamley. Mr. Claridge, I am glad to meet you.” They shook + hands. “Been here long, Mr. Claridge?” + </p> + <p> + “A few months only.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer place—gilt-edged dust-bin; get anything you like here, from a + fresh gutter-snipe to old Haroun-al-Raschid. It’s the biggest jack-pot on + earth. Barnum’s the man for this place—P. T. Barnum. Golly, how the + whole thing glitters and stews! Out of Shoobra his High Jinks Pasha + kennels with his lions and lives with his cellars of gold, as if he was + going to take them with him where he’s going—and he’s going fast. + Here—down here, the people, the real people, sweat and drudge + between a cake of dourha, an onion, and a balass of water at one end of + the day, and a hemp collar and their feet off the ground at the other.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen much of Egypt?” asked David, feeling a strange confidence + in the garrulous man, whose frankness was united to shrewdness and a + quick, observant eye. + </p> + <p> + “How much of Egypt I’ve seen, the Egypt where more men get lost, strayed, + and stolen than die in their beds every day, the Egypt where a eunuch is + more powerful than a minister, where an official will toss away a life as + I’d toss this cigar down there where the last Mameluke captain made his + great jump, where women—Lord A’mighty! where women are divorced by + one evil husband, by the dozen, for nothing they ever did or left undone, + and yet ‘d be cut to pieces by their own fathers if they learned that ‘To + step aside is human—’ Mr. Claridge, of that Egypt I don’t know much + more’n would entitle me to say, How d’ye do. But it’s enough for me. + You’ve seen something—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “A little. It is not civilised life here. Yet—yet a few strong + patriotic men—” + </p> + <p> + Lacey looked quizzically at David. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he said, “I thought that about Mexico once. I said Manana—this + Manana is the curse of Mexico. It’s always to-morrow—to-morrow—to-morrow. + Let’s teach ‘em to do things to-day. Let’s show ‘em what business means. + Two million dollars went into that experiment, but Manana won. We had good + hands, but it had the joker. After five years I left, with a bald head at + twenty-nine, and a little book of noble thoughts—Tips for the Tired, + or Things you can say To-day on what you can do to-morrow. I lost my hair + worrying, but I learned to be patient. The Dagos wanted to live in their + own way, and they did. It’s one thing to be a missionary and say the + little word in season; it’s another to run your soft red head against a + hard stone wall. I went to Mexico a conquistador, I left it a child of + time, who had learned to smile; and I left some millions behind me, too. I + said to an old Padre down there that I knew—we used to meet in the + Cafe Manrique and drink chocolate—I said to him, ‘Padre, the Lord’s + Prayer is a mistake down here.’ ‘Si, senor,’ he said, and smiled his + far-away smile at me. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘for you say in the Lord’s Prayer, + “Give us this day our daily bread.”’ ‘Si, senor,’ he says, ‘but we do not + expect it till to-morrow!’ The Padre knew from the start, but I learned at + great expense, and went out of business—closed up shop for ever, + with a bald head and my Tips for the Tired. Well, I’ve had more out of it + all, I guess, than if I’d trebled the millions and wiped Manana off the + Mexican coat of arms.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it would be like that here?” David asked abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + Lacey whistled. “There the Government was all right and the people all + wrong. Here the people are all right and the Government all wrong. Say, it + makes my eyes water sometimes to see the fellah slogging away. He’s a + Jim-dandy—works all day and half the night, and if the tax-gatherer + isn’t at the door, wakes up laughing. I saw one”—his light blue eyes + took on a sudden hardness—“laughing on the other side of his mouth + one morning. They were ‘kourbashing’ his feet; I landed on them as the + soles came away. I hit out.” His face became grave, he turned the cigar + round in his mouth. “It made me feel better, but I had a close call. Lucky + for me that in Mexico I got into the habit of carrying a pop-gun. It saved + me then. But it isn’t any use going on these special missions. We + Americans think a lot of ourselves. We want every land to do as we do; and + we want to make ‘em do it. But a strong man here at the head, with a sword + in his hand, peace in his heart, who’d be just and poor—how can you + make officials honest when you take all you can get yourself—! But, + no, I guess it’s no good. This is a rotten cotton show.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey had talked so much, not because he was garrulous only, but because + the inquiry in David’s eyes was an encouragement to talk. Whatever his + misfortunes in Mexico had been, his forty years sat lightly on him, and + his expansive temperament, his childlike sentimentality, gave him an + appearance of beaming, sophisticated youth. David was slowly apprehending + these things as he talked—subconsciously, as it were; for he was + seeing pictures of the things he himself had observed, through the lens of + another mind, as primitive in some regards as his own, but influenced by + different experiences. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you’re the best listener I ever saw,” added Lacey, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + David held out his hand. “Thee sees things clearly,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Lacey grasped his hand. + </p> + <p> + At that moment an orderly advanced towards them. “He’s after us—one + of the Palace cavalry,” said Lacey. + </p> + <p> + “Effendi—Claridge Effendi! May his grave be not made till the + karadh-gatherers return,” said the orderly to David. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Claridge,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + “To the hotel, effendi, first, then to the Mokattam Hills after thee, then + here—from the Effendina, on whom be God’s peace, this letter for + thee.” + </p> + <p> + David took the letter. “I thank thee, friend,” he said. + </p> + <p> + As he read it, Lacey said to the orderly in Arabic “How didst thou know he + was here?” + </p> + <p> + The orderly grinned wickedly. + </p> + <p> + “Always it is known what place the effendi honours. It is not dark where + he uncovers his face.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey gave a low whistle. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you’ve got a pull in this show,” he said, as David folded up the + letter and put it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “In Egypt, if the master smiles on you, the servant puts his nose in the + dust.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prince Pasha bids me to dinner at the Palace to-night. I have no + clothes for such affairs. Yet—” His mind was asking itself if this + was a door opening, which he had no right to shut with his own hand. There + was no reason why he should not go; therefore there might be a reason why + he should go. It might be, it no doubt was, in the way of facilitating his + business. He dismissed the orderly with an affirmative and ceremonial + message to Prince Kaid—and a piece of gold. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve learned the custom of the place,” said Lacey, as he saw the gold + piece glitter in the brown palm of the orderly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the man’s only pay is in such service,” rejoined David. “It is + a land of backsheesh. The fault is not with the people; it is with the + rulers. I am not sorry to share my goods with the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have a big going concern here in no time,” observed Lacey. “Now, + if I had those millions I left in Mexico—” Suddenly he stopped. “Is + it you that’s trying to settle up an estate here—at Assiout—belonged + to an uncle?” + </p> + <p> + David inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “They say that you and Prince Kaid are doing the thing yourselves, and + that the pashas and judges and all the high-mogul sharks of the Medjidie + think that the end of the world has come. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so, if not completely so. There are the poor men and humble—the + pashas and judges and the others of the Medjidie, as thee said, are not + poor. But such as the orderly yonder—” He paused meditatively. + </p> + <p> + Lacey looked at David with profound respect. “You make the poorest your + partners, your friends. I see, I see. Jerusalem, that’s masterly! I admire + you. It’s a new way in this country.” Then, after a moment: “It’ll do—by + golly, it’ll do! Not a bit more costly, and you do some good with it. Yes—it—will—do.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given no man money save in charity and for proper service done + openly,” said David, a little severely. + </p> + <p> + “Say—of course. And that’s just what isn’t done here. Everything + goes to him who hath, and from him who hath not is taken away even that + which he hath. One does the work and another gets paid—that’s the + way here. But you, Mr. Claridge, you clinch with the strong man at the + top, and, down below, you’ve got as your partners the poor man, whose name + is Legion. If you get a fall out of the man at the top, you’re solid with + the Legion. And if the man at the top gets up again and salaams and + strokes your hand, and says, ‘Be my brother,’ then it’s a full Nile, and + the fig-tree putteth forth its tender branches, and the date-palm + flourisheth, and at the village pond the thanksgiving turkey gobbles and + is glad. ‘Selah’!” + </p> + <p> + The sunset gun boomed out from the citadel. David turned to go, and Lacey + added: + </p> + <p> + “I’m waiting for a pasha who’s taking toll of the officers inside there—Achmet + Pasha. They call him the Ropemaker, because so many pass through his hands + to the Nile. The Old Muslin I call him, because he’s so diaphanous. Thinks + nobody can see through him, and there’s nobody that can’t. If you stay + long in Egypt, you’ll find that Achmet is the worst, and Nahoum the + Armenian the deepest, pasha in all this sickening land. Achmet is cruel as + a tiger to any one that stands in his way; Nahoum, the whale, only opens + out to swallow now and then; but when Nahoum does open out, down goes + Jonah, and never comes up again. He’s a deep one, and a great artist is + Nahoum. I’ll bet a dollar you’ll see them both to-night at the Palace—if + Kaid doesn’t throw them to the lions for their dinner before yours is + served. Here one shark is swallowed by another bigger, till at last the + only and original sea-serpent swallows ‘em all.” + </p> + <p> + As David wound his way down the hills, Lacey waved a hand after him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, give my love to the girls,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. “HAST THOU NEVER KILLED A MAN?” + </h2> + <h3> + “Claridge Effendi!” + </h3> + <p> + As David moved forward, his mind was embarrassed by many impressions. He + was not confused, but the glitter and splendour, the Oriental gorgeousness + of the picture into which he stepped, excited his eye, roused some new + sense in him. He was a curious figure in those surroundings. The consuls + and agents of all the nations save one were in brilliant uniform, and + pashas, generals, and great officials were splendid in gold braid and + lace, and wore flashing Orders on their breasts. David had been asked for + half-past eight o’clock, and he was there on the instant; yet here was + every one assembled, the Prince Pasha included. As he walked up the room + he suddenly realised this fact, and, for a moment, he thought he had made + a mistake; but again he remembered distinctly that the letter said + half-past eight, and he wondered now if this had been arranged by the + Prince—for what purpose? To afford amusement to the assembled + company? He drew himself up with dignity, his face became graver. He had + come in a Quaker suit of black broadcloth, with grey steel buttons, and a + plain white stock; and he wore his broad-brimmed hat—to the + consternation of the British Consul-General and the Europeans present, to + the amazement of the Turkish and native officials, who eyed him keenly. + They themselves wore red tarbooshes, as did the Prince; yet all of them + knew that the European custom of showing respect was by doffing the hat. + The Prince Pasha had settled that with David, however, at their first + meeting, when David had kept on his hat and offered Kaid his hand. + </p> + <p> + Now, with amusement in his eyes, Prince Kaid watched David coming up the + great hall. What his object was in summoning David for an hour when all + the court and all the official Europeans should be already present, + remained to be seen. As David entered, Kaid was busy receiving salaams, + and returning greeting, but with an eye to the singularly boyish yet + gallant figure approaching. By the time David had reached the group, the + Prince Pasha was ready to receive him. + </p> + <p> + “Friend, I am glad to welcome thee,” said the Effendina, sly humour + lurking at the corner of his eye. Conscious of the amazement of all + present, he held out his hand to David. + </p> + <p> + “May thy coming be as the morning dew, friend,” he added, taking David’s + willing hand. + </p> + <p> + “And thy feet, Kaid, wall in goodly paths, by the grace of God the + compassionate and merciful.” + </p> + <p> + As a wind, unfelt, stirs the leaves of a forest, making it rustle + delicately, a whisper swept through the room. Official Egypt was + dumfounded. Many had heard of David, a few had seen him, and now all eyed + with inquisitive interest one who defied so many of the customs of his + countrymen; who kept on his hat; who used a Mahommedan salutation like a + true believer; whom the Effendina honoured—and presently honoured in + an unusual degree by seating him at table opposite himself, where his + Chief Chamberlain was used to sit. + </p> + <p> + During dinner Kaid addressed his conversation again and again to David, + asking questions put to disconcert the consuls and other official folk + present, confident in the naive reply which would be returned. For there + was a keen truthfulness in the young man’s words which, however suave and + carefully balanced, however gravely simple and tactful, left no doubt as + to their meaning. There was nothing in them which could be challenged, + could be construed into active criticism of men or things; and yet much he + said was horrifying. It made Achmet Pasha sit up aghast, and Nahoum Pasha, + the astute Armenian, for a long time past the confidant and favourite of + the Prince Pasha, laugh in his throat; for, if there was a man in Egypt + who enjoyed the thrust of a word or the bite of a phrase, it was Nahoum. + Christian though he was, he was, nevertheless, Oriental to his farthermost + corner, and had the culture of a French savant. He had also the primitive + view of life, and the morals of a race who, in the clash of East and West, + set against Western character and directness, and loyalty to the terms of + a bargain, the demoralised cunning of the desert folk; the circuitous + tactics of those who believed that no man spoke the truth directly, that + it must ever be found beneath devious and misleading words, to be tracked + like a panther, as an Antipodean bushman once said, “through the + sinuosities of the underbrush.” Nahoum Pasha had also a rich sense of grim + humour. Perhaps that was why he had lived so near the person of the + Prince, had held office so long. There were no Grand Viziers in Egypt; but + he was as much like one as possible, and he had one uncommon virtue, he + was greatly generous. If he took with his right hand he gave with his + left; and Mahommedan as well as Copt and Armenian, and beggars of every + race and creed, hung about his doors each morning to receive the food and + alms he gave freely. + </p> + <p> + After one of David’s answers to Kaid, which had had the effect of causing + his Highness to turn a sharp corner of conversation by addressing himself + to the French consul, Nahoum said suavely: + </p> + <p> + “And so, monsieur, you think that we hold life lightly in the East—that + it is a characteristic of civilisation to make life more sacred, to + cherish it more fondly?” + </p> + <p> + He was sitting beside David, and though he asked the question casually, + and with apparent intention only of keeping talk going, there was a + lurking inquisition in his eye. He had seen enough to-night to make him + sure that Kaid had once more got the idea of making a European his + confidant and adviser; to introduce to his court one of those mad + Englishmen who cared nothing for gold—only for power; who loved + administration for the sake of administration and the foolish joy of + labour. He was now set to see what sort of match this intellect could + play, when faced by the inherent contradictions present in all truths or + the solutions of all problems. + </p> + <p> + “It is one of the characteristics of that which lies behind civilisation, + as thee and me have been taught,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum was quick in strategy, but he was unprepared for David’s knowledge + that he was an Armenian Christian, and he had looked for another answer. + </p> + <p> + But he kept his head and rose to the occasion. “Ah, it is high, it is + noble, to save life—it is so easy to destroy it,” he answered. “I + saw his Highness put his life in danger once to save a dog from drowning. + To cherish the lives of others, and to be careless of our own; to give + that of great value as though it were of no worth—is it not the + Great Lesson?” He said it with such an air of sincerity, with such + dissimulation, that, for the moment, David was deceived. There was, + however, on the face of the listening Kaid a curious, cynical smile. He + had heard all, and he knew the sardonic meaning behind Nahoum’s words. + </p> + <p> + Fat High Pasha, the Chief Chamberlain, the corrupt and corruptible, + intervened. “It is not so hard to be careless when care would be useless,” + he said, with a chuckle. “When the khamsin blows the dust-storms upon the + caravan, the camel-driver hath no care for his camels. ‘Malaish!’ he says, + and buries his face in his yelek.” + </p> + <p> + “Life is beautiful and so difficult—to save,” observed Nahoum, in a + tone meant to tempt David on one hand and to reach the ears of the + notorious Achmet Pasha, whose extortions, cruelties, and taxations had + built his master’s palaces, bribed his harem, given him money to pay the + interest on his European loans, and made himself the richest man in Egypt, + whose spies were everywhere, whose shadow was across every man’s path. + Kaid might slay, might toss a pasha or a slave into the Nile now and then, + might invite a Bey to visit him, and stroke his beard and call him brother + and put diamond-dust in the coffee he drank, so that he died before two + suns came and went again, “of inflammation and a natural death”; but he, + Achmet Pasha, was the dark Inquisitor who tortured every day, for whose + death all men prayed, and whom some would have slain, but that another + worse than himself might succeed him. + </p> + <p> + At Nahoum’s words the dusky brown of Achmet’s face turned as black as the + sudden dilation of the pupil of an eye deepens its hue, and he said with a + guttural accent: + </p> + <p> + “Every man hath a time to die.” + </p> + <p> + “But not his own time,” answered Nahoum maliciously. + </p> + <p> + “It would appear that in Egypt he hath not always the choice of the + fashion or the time,” remarked David calmly. He had read the malice behind + their words, and there had flashed into his own mind tales told him, with + every circumstance of accuracy, of deaths within and without the Palace. + Also he was now aware that Nahoum had mocked him. He was concerned to make + it clear that he was not wholly beguiled. + </p> + <p> + “Is there, then, for a man choice of fashion or time in England, effendi?” + asked Nahoum, with assumed innocence. + </p> + <p> + “In England it is a matter between the Giver and Taker of life and himself—save + where murder does its work,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And here it is between man and man—is it that you would say?” asked + Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + “There seem wider privileges here,” answered David drily. + </p> + <p> + “Accidents will happen, privileges or no,” rejoined Nahoum, with lowering + eyelids. + </p> + <p> + The Prince intervened. “Thy own faith forbids the sword, forbids war, or—punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet I follow was called the Prince of Peace, friend,” answered + David, bowing gravely across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou never killed a man?” asked Kaid, with interest in his eyes. He + asked the question as a man might ask another if he had never visited + Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Never, by the goodness of God, never,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + “Neither in punishment nor in battle?” + </p> + <p> + “I am neither judge nor soldier, friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Inshallah, thou hast yet far to go! Thou art young yet. Who can tell?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never so far to go as that, friend,” said David, in a voice that + rang a little. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow is no man’s gift.” + </p> + <p> + David was about to answer, but chancing to raise his eyes above the Prince + Pasha’s head, his glance was arrested and startled by seeing a face—the + face of a woman-looking out of a panel in a mooshrabieh screen in a + gallery above. He would not have dwelt upon the incident, he would have + set it down to the curiosity of a woman of the harem, but that the face + looking out was that of an English girl, and peering over her shoulder was + the dark, handsome face of an Egyptian or a Turk. + </p> + <p> + Self-control was the habit of his life, the training of his faith, and, as + a rule, his face gave little evidence of inner excitement. Demonstration + was discouraged, if not forbidden, among the Quakers, and if, to others, + it gave a cold and austere manner, in David it tempered to a warm + stillness the powerful impulses in him, the rivers of feeling which + sometimes roared through his veins. + </p> + <p> + Only Nahoum Pasha had noticed his arrested look, so motionless did he sit; + and now, without replying, he bowed gravely and deferentially to Kaid, who + rose from the table. He followed with the rest. Presently the Prince sent + Higli Pasha to ask his nearer presence. + </p> + <p> + The Prince made a motion of his hand, and the circle withdrew. He waved + David to a seat. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow thy business shall be settled,” said the Prince suavely, “and + on such terms as will not startle. Death-tribute is no new thing in the + East. It is fortunate for thee that the tribute is from thy hand to my + hand, and not through many others to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I am conscious I have been treated with favour, friend,” said David. “I + would that I might show thee kindness. Though how may a man of no account + make return to a great Prince?” + </p> + <p> + “By the beard of my father, it is easily done, if thy kindness is a real + thing, and not that which makes me poorer the more I have of it—as + though one should be given a herd of horses which must not be sold but + still must be fed.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given thee truth. Is not truth cheaper than falsehood?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the most expensive thing in Egypt; so that I despair of buying + thee. Yet I would buy thee to remain here—here at my court; here by + my hand which will give thee the labour thou lovest, and will defend thee + if defence be needed. Thou hast not greed, thou hast no thirst for honour, + yet thou hast wisdom beyond thy years. Kaid has never besought men, but he + beseeches thee. Once there was in Egypt, Joseph, a wise youth, who served + a Pharaoh, and was his chief counsellor, and it was well with the land. + Thy name is a good name; well-being may follow thee. The ages have gone, + and the rest of the world has changed, but Egypt is the same Egypt, the + Nile rises and falls, and the old lean years and fat years come and go. + Though I am in truth a Turk, and those who serve and rob me here are + Turks, yet the fellah is the same as he was five thousand years ago. What + Joseph the Israelite did, thou canst do; for I am no more unjust than was + that Rameses whom Joseph served. Wilt thou stay with me?” + </p> + <p> + David looked at Kaid as though he would read in his face the reply that he + must make, but he did not see Kaid; he saw, rather, the face of one he had + loved more than Jonathan had been loved by the young shepherd-prince of + Israel. In his ears he heard the voice that had called him in his + sleep-the voice of Benn Claridge; and, at the same instant, there flashed + into his mind a picture of himself fighting outside the tavern beyond + Hamley and bidding farewell to the girl at the crossroads. + </p> + <p> + “Friend, I cannot answer thee now,” he said, in a troubled voice. + </p> + <p> + Kaid rose. “I will give thee an hour to think upon it. Come with me.” He + stepped forward. “To-morrow I will answer thee, Kaid.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow there is work for thee to do. Come.” David followed him. + </p> + <p> + The eyes that followed the Prince and the Quaker were not friendly. What + Kaid had long foreshadowed seemed at hand: the coming of a European + counsellor and confidant. They realised that in the man who had just left + the room with Kaid there were characteristics unlike those they had ever + met before in Europeans. + </p> + <p> + “A madman,” whispered High Pasha to Achmet the Ropemaker. + </p> + <p> + “Then his will be the fate of the swine of Gadarene,” said Nahoum Pasha, + who had heard. + </p> + <p> + “At least one need not argue with a madman.” The face of Achmet the + Ropemaker was not more pleasant than his dark words. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the madman with whom you have to deal, but his keeper,” + rejoined Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum’s face was heavier than usual. Going to weight, he was still + muscular and well groomed. His light brown beard and hair and blue eyes + gave him a look almost Saxon, and bland power spoke in his face and in + every gesture. + </p> + <p> + He was seldom without the string of beads so many Orientals love to carry, + and, Armenian Christian as he was, the act seemed almost religious. It was + to him, however, like a ground-wire in telegraphy—it carried off the + nervous force tingling in him and driving him to impulsive action, while + his reputation called for a constant outward urbanity, a philosophical + apathy. He had had his great fight for place and power, alien as he was in + religion, though he had lived in Egypt since a child. Bar to progress as + his religion had been at first, it had been an advantage afterwards; for, + through it, he could exclude himself from complications with the Wakfs, + the religious court of the Muslim creed, which had lands to administer, + and controlled the laws of marriage and inheritance. He could shrug his + shoulders and play with his beads, and urbanely explain his own + helplessness and ineligibility when his influence was summoned, or it was + sought to entangle him in warring interests. Oriental through and through, + the basis of his creed was similar to that of a Muslim: Mahomet was a + prophet and Christ was a prophet. It was a case of rival prophets—all + else was obscured into a legend, and he saw the strife of race in the + difference of creed. For the rest, he flourished the salutations and + language of the Arab as though they were his own, and he spoke Arabic as + perfectly as he did French and English. + </p> + <p> + He was the second son of his father. The first son, who was but a year + older, and was as dark as he was fair, had inherited—had seized—all + his father’s wealth. He had lived abroad for some years in France and + England. In the latter place he had been one of the Turkish Embassy, and, + having none of the outward characteristics of the Turk, and being in + appearance more of a Spaniard than an Oriental, he had, by his gifts, his + address and personal appearance, won the good-will of the Duchess of + Middlesex, and had had that success all too flattering to the soul of a + libertine. It had, however, been the means of his premature retirement + from England, for his chief at the Embassy had a preference for an + Oriental entourage. He was called Foorgat Bey. + </p> + <p> + Sitting at table, Nahoum alone of all present had caught David’s arrested + look, and, glancing up, had seen the girl’s face at the panel of + mooshrabieh, and had seen also over her shoulder the face of his brother, + Foorgat Bey. He had been even more astonished than David, and far more + disturbed. He knew his brother’s abilities; he knew his insinuating + address—had he not influenced their father to give him wealth while + he was yet alive? He was aware also that his brother had visited the + Palace often of late. It would seem as though the Prince Pasha was ready + to make him, as well as David, a favourite. But the face of the girl—it + was an English face! Familiar with the Palace, and bribing when it was + necessary to bribe, Foorgat Bey had evidently brought her to see the + function, there where all women were forbidden. He could little imagine + Foorgat doing this from mere courtesy; he could not imagine any woman, + save one wholly sophisticated, or one entirely innocent, trusting herself + with him—and in such a place. The girl’s face, though not that of + one in her teens, had seemed to him a very flower of innocence. + </p> + <p> + But, as he stood telling his beads, abstractedly listening to the scandal + talked by Achmet and Higli, he was not thinking of his brother, but of the + two who had just left the chamber. He was speculating as to which room + they were likely to enter. They had not gone by the door convenient to + passage to Kaid’s own apartments. He would give much to hear the + conversation between Kaid and the stranger; he was all too conscious of + its purport. As he stood thinking, Kaid returned. After looking round the + room for a moment, the Prince came slowly over to Nahoum, and, stretching + out a hand, stroked his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, brother of all the wise, may thy sun never pass its noon!” said Kaid, + in a low, friendly voice. + </p> + <p> + Despite his will, a shudder passed through Nahoum Pasha’s frame. How often + in Egypt this gesture and such words were the prelude to assassination, + from which there was no escape save by death itself. Into Nahoum’s mind + there flashed the words of an Arab teacher, “There is no refuge from God + but God Himself,” and he found himself blindly wondering, even as he felt + Kaid’s hand upon his beard and listened to the honeyed words, what manner + of death was now preparing for him, and what death of his own contriving + should intervene. Escape, he knew, there was none, if his death was + determined on; for spies were everywhere, and slaves in the pay of Kaid + were everywhere, and such as were not could be bought or compelled, even + if he took refuge in the house of a foreign consul. The lean, invisible, + ghastly arm of death could find him, if Kaid willed, though he delved in + the bowels of the Cairene earth, or climbed to an eagle’s eyrie in the + Libyan Hills. Whether it was diamond-dust or Achmet’s thin thong that + stopped the breath, it mattered not; it was sure. Yet he was not of the + breed to tremble under the descending sword, and he had long accustomed + himself to the chance of “sudden demise.” It had been chief among the + chances he had taken when he entered the high and perilous service of + Kaid. Now, as he felt the secret joy of these dark spirits surrounding him—Achmet, + and High Pasha, who kept saying beneath his breath in thankfulness that it + was not his turn, Praise be to God!—as he, felt their secret + self-gratulations, and their evil joy over his prospective downfall, he + settled himself steadily, made a low salutation to Kaid, and calmly + awaited further speech. It came soon enough. + </p> + <p> + “It is written upon a cucumber leaf—does not the world read it?—that + Nahoum Pasha’s form shall cast a longer shadow than the trees; so that + every man in Egypt shall, thinking on him, be as covetous as Ashaah, who + knew but one thing more covetous than himself—the sheep that mistook + the rainbow for a rope of hay, and, jumping for it, broke his neck.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid laughed softly at his own words. + </p> + <p> + With his eye meeting Kaid’s again, after a low salaam, Nahoum made answer: + </p> + <p> + “I would that the lance of my fame might sheathe itself in the breasts of + thy enemies, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Thy tongue does that office well,” was the reply. Once more Kaid laid a + gentle hand upon Nahoum’s beard. Then, with a gesture towards the consuls + and Europeans, he said to them in French: “If I might but beg your + presence for yet a little time!” Then he turned and walked away. He left + by a door leading to his own apartments. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, Nahoum swung slowly round and faced the agitated groups. + </p> + <p> + “He who sleeps with one eye open sees the sun rise first,” he said, with a + sarcastic laugh. “He who goes blindfold never sees it set.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a complacent look upon them all, he slowly left the room by the + door out of which David and Kaid had first passed. + </p> + <p> + Outside the room his face did not change. His manner had not been bravado. + It was as natural to him as David’s manner was to himself. Each had + trained himself in his own way to the mastery of his will, and the will in + each was stronger than any passion of emotion in them. So far at least it + had been so. In David it was the outcome of his faith, in Nahoum it was + the outcome of his philosophy, a simple, fearless fatalism. + </p> + <p> + David had been left by Kaid in a small room, little more than an alcove, + next to a larger room richly furnished. Both rooms belonged to a spacious + suite which lay between the harem and the major portion of the Palace. It + had its own entrance and exits from the Palace, opening on the square at + the front, at the back opening on its own garden, which also had its own + exits to the public road. The quarters of the Chief Eunuch separated the + suite from the harem, and Mizraim, the present Chief Eunuch, was a man of + power in the Palace, knew more secrets, was more courted, and was richer + than some of the princes. Nahoum had an office in the Palace, also, which + gave him the freedom of the place, and brought him often in touch with the + Chief Eunuch. He had made Mizraim a fast friend ever since the day he had, + by an able device, saved the Chief Eunuch from determined robbery by the + former Prince Pasha, with whom he had suddenly come out of favour. + </p> + <p> + When Nahoum left the great salon, he directed his steps towards the + quarters of the Chief Eunuch, thinking of David, with a vague desire for + pursuit and conflict. He was too much of a philosopher to seek to do David + physical injury—a futile act; for it could do him no good in the + end, could not mend his own fortunes; and, merciless as he could be on + occasion, he had no love of bloodshed. Besides, the game afoot was not of + his making, and he was ready to await the finish, the more so because he + was sure that to-morrow would bring forth momentous things. There was a + crisis in the Soudan, there was trouble in the army, there was dark + conspiracy of which he knew the heart, and anything might happen + to-morrow! He had yet some cards to play, and Achmet and Higli—and + another very high and great—might be delivered over to Kaid’s deadly + purposes rather than himself tomorrow. What he knew Kaid did not know. He + had not meant to act yet; but new facts faced him, and he must make one + struggle for his life. But as he went towards Mizraim’s quarters he saw no + sure escape from the stage of those untoward events, save by the exit + which is for all in some appointed hour. + </p> + <p> + He was not, however, more perplexed and troubled than David, who, in the + little room where he had been brought and left alone with coffee and + cigarettes, served by a slave from some distant portion of the Palace, sat + facing his future. + </p> + <p> + David looked round the little room. Upon the walls hung weapons of every + kind—from a polished dagger of Toledo to a Damascus blade, suits of + chain armour, long-handled, two-edged Arab swords, pistols which had been + used in the Syrian wars of Ibrahim, lances which had been taken from the + Druses at Palmyra, rude battle-axes from the tribes of the Soudan, and + neboots of dom-wood which had done service against Napoleon at Damietta. + The cushions among which he sat had come from Constantinople, the rug at + his feet from Tiflis, the prayer-rug on the wall from Mecca. + </p> + <p> + All that he saw was as unlike what he had known in past years as though he + had come to Mars or Jupiter. All that he had heard recalled to him his + first readings in the Old Testament—the story of Nebuchadnezzar, of + Belshazzar, of Ahasuerus—of Ahasuerus! He suddenly remembered the + face he had seen looking down at the Prince’s table from the panel of + mooshrabieh. That English face—where was it? Why was it there? Who + was the man with her? Whose the dark face peering scornfully over her + shoulder? The face of an English girl in that place dedicated to sombre + intrigue, to the dark effacement of women, to the darker effacement of + life, as he well knew, all too often! In looking at this prospect for good + work in the cause of civilisation, he was not deceived, he was not + allured. He knew into what subterranean ways he must walk, through what + mazes of treachery and falsehood he must find his way; and though he did + not know to the full the corruption which it was his duty to Kaid to turn + to incorruption, he knew enough to give his spirit pause. What would be—what + could be—the end? Would he not prove to be as much out of place as + was the face of that English girl? The English girl! England rushed back + upon him—the love of those at home; of his father, the only father + he had ever known; of Faith, the only mother or sister he had ever known; + of old John Fairley; the love of the woods and the hills where he had + wandered came upon him. There was work to do in England, work too little + done—the memory of the great meeting at Heddington flashed upon him. + Could his labour and his skill, if he had any, not be used there? Ah, the + green fields, the soft grey skies, the quiet vale, the brave, + self-respecting, toiling millions, the beautiful sense of law and order + and goodness! Could his gifts and labours not be used there? Could not— + </p> + <p> + He was suddenly startled by a smothered cry, then a call of distress. It + was the voice of a woman. + </p> + <p> + He started up. The voice seemed to come from a room at his right; not that + from which he had entered, but one still beyond this where he was. He + sprang towards the wall and examined it swiftly. Finding a division in the + tapestry, he ran his fingers quickly and heavily down the crack between. + It came upon the button of a spring. He pressed it, the door yielded, and, + throwing it back, he stepped into the room-to see a woman struggling to + resist the embraces and kisses of a man. The face was that of the girl who + had looked out of the panel in the mooshrabieh screen. Then it was + beautiful in its mirth and animation, now it was pale and terror-stricken, + as with one free hand she fiercely beat the face pressed to hers. + </p> + <p> + The girl only had seen David enter. The man was not conscious of his + presence till he was seized and flung against the wall. The violence of + the impact brought down at his feet two weapons from the wall above him. + He seized one-a dagger-and sprang to his feet. Before he could move + forward or raise his arm, however, David struck him a blow in the neck + which flung him upon a square marble pedestal intended for a statue. In + falling his head struck violently a sharp corner of the pedestal. He + lurched, rolled over on the floor, and lay still. + </p> + <p> + The girl gave a choking cry. David quickly stooped and turned the body + over. There was a cut where the hair met the temple. He opened the + waistcoat and thrust his hand inside the shirt. Then he felt the pulse of + the limp wrist. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he looked at the face steadily, almost contemplatively it + might have seemed, and then drew both arms close to the body. + </p> + <p> + Foorgat Bey, the brother of Nahoum Pasha, was dead. + </p> + <p> + Rising, David turned, as if in a dream, to the girl. He made a motion of + the hand towards the body. She understood. Dismay was in her face, but the + look of horror and desperation was gone. She seemed not to realise, as did + David, the awful position in which they were placed, the deed which David + had done, the significance of the thing that lay at their feet. + </p> + <p> + “Where are thy people?” said David. “Come, we will go to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no people here,” she said, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Who brought thee?” + </p> + <p> + She made a motion behind her towards the body. David glanced down. The + eyes of the dead man were open. He stooped and closed them gently. The + collar and tie were disarranged; he straightened them, then turned again + to her. + </p> + <p> + “I must take thee away,” he said calmly. “But it must be secretly.” He + looked around, perplexed. “We came secretly. My maid is outside the garden—in + a carriage. Oh, come, let us go, let us escape. They will kill you—!” + Terror came into her face again. “Thee, not me, is in danger—name, + goodness, future, all.... Which way did thee come?” + </p> + <p> + “Here—through many rooms—” She made a gesture to curtains + beyond. “But we first entered through doors with sphinxes on either side, + with a room where was a statue of Mehemet Ali.” + </p> + <p> + It was the room through which David had come with Kaid. He took her hand. + “Come quickly. I know the way. It is here,” he said, pointing to the + panel-door by which he had entered. + </p> + <p> + Holding her hand still, as though she were a child, he led her quickly + from the room, and shut the panel behind them. As they passed through, a + hand drew aside the curtains on the other side of the room which they were + leaving. + </p> + <p> + Presently the face of Nahoum Pasha followed the hand. A swift glance to + the floor, then he ran forward, stooped down, and laid a hand on his + brother’s breast. The slight wound on the forehead answered his rapid + scrutiny. He realised the situation as plainly as if it had been written + down for him—he knew his brother well. + </p> + <p> + Noiselessly he moved forward and touched the spring of the door through + which the two had gone. It yielded, and he passed through, closed the door + again and stealthily listened, then stole a look into the farther chamber. + It was empty. He heard the outer doors close. For a moment he listened, + then went forward and passed through into the hall. Softly turning the + handle of the big wooden doors which faced him, he opened them an inch or + so, and listened. He could hear swiftly retreating footsteps. Presently he + heard the faint noise of a gate shutting. He nodded his head, and was + about to close the doors and turn away, when his quick ear detected + footsteps again in the garden. Some one—the man, of course—was + returning. + </p> + <p> + “May fire burn his eyes for ever! He would talk with Kald, then go again + among them all, and so pass out unsuspected and safe. For who but I—who + but I could say he did it? And I—what is my proof? Only the words + which I speak.” + </p> + <p> + A scornful, fateful smile passed over his face. “‘Hast thou never killed a + man?’ said Kaid. ‘Never,’ said he—‘by the goodness of God, never!’ + The voice of Him of Galilee, the hand of Cain, the craft of Jael. But God + is with the patient.” + </p> + <p> + He went hastily and noiselessly-his footfall was light for so heavy a + man-through the large room to the farther side from that by which David + and Kaid had first entered. Drawing behind a clump of palms near a door + opening to a passage leading to Mizraim’s quarters, he waited. He saw + David enter quickly, yet without any air of secrecy, and pass into the + little room where Kaid had left him. + </p> + <p> + For a long time there was silence. + </p> + <p> + The reasons were clear in Nahoum’s mind why he should not act yet. A new + factor had changed the equation which had presented itself a short half + hour ago. + </p> + <p> + A new factor had also entered into the equation which had been presented + to David by Kaid with so flattering an insistence. He sat in the place + where Kaid had left him, his face drawn and white, his eyes burning, but + with no other “sign of agitation. He was frozen and still. His look was + fastened now upon the door by which the Prince Pasha would enter, now upon + the door through which he had passed to the rescue of the English girl, + whom he had seen drive off safely with her maid. In their swift passage + from the Palace to the carriage, a thing had been done of even greater + moment than the killing of the sensualist in the next room. In the journey + to the gateway the girl David served had begged him to escape with her. + This he had almost sharply declined; it would be no escape, he had said. + She had urged that no one knew. He had replied that Kaid would come again + for him, and suspicion would be aroused if he were gone. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has safety,” he had said. “I will go back. I will say that I killed + him. I have taken a life, I will pay for it as is the law.” + </p> + <p> + Excited as she was, she had seen the inflexibility of his purpose. She had + seen the issue also clearly. He would give himself up, and the whole story + would be the scandal of Europe. + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to save me only to kill me,” she had said desperately. + “You would give your life, but you would destroy that which is more than + life to me. You did not intend to kill him. It was no murder, it was + punishment.” Her voice had got harder. “He would have killed my life + because he was evil. Will you kill it because you are good? Will you be + brave, quixotic, but not pitiful?... No, no, no!” she had said, as his + hand was upon the gate, “I will not go unless you promise that you will + hide the truth, if you can.” She had laid her hand upon his shoulder with + an agonised impulse. “You will hide it for a girl who will cherish your + memory her whole life long. Ah—God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + She had felt that she conquered before he spoke as, indeed, he did not + speak, but nodded his head and murmured something indistinctly. But that + did not matter, for she had won; she had a feeling that all would be well. + Then he had placed her in her carriage, and she was driven swiftly away, + saying to herself half hysterically: “I am safe, I am safe. He will keep + his word.” + </p> + <p> + Her safety and his promise were the new factor which changed the equation + for which Kaid would presently ask the satisfaction. David’s life had + suddenly come upon problems for which his whole past was no preparation. + Conscience, which had been his guide in every situation, was now disarmed, + disabled, and routed. It had come to terms. + </p> + <p> + In going quickly through the room, they had disarranged a table. The + girl’s cloak had swept over it, and a piece of brie-a-brae had been thrown + upon the floor. He got up and replaced it with an attentive air. He + rearranged the other pieces on the table mechanically, seeing, feeling + another scene, another inanimate thing which must be for ever and for ever + a picture burning in his memory. Yet he appeared to be casually doing a + trivial and necessary act. He did not definitely realise his actions; but + long afterwards he could have drawn an accurate plan of the table, could + have reproduced upon it each article in its exact place as correctly as + though it had been photographed. There were one or two spots of dust or + dirt on the floor, brought in by his boots from the garden. He flicked + them aside with his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + How still it was! Or was it his life which had become so still? It seemed + as if the world must be noiseless, for not a sound of the life in other + parts of the Palace came to him, not an echo or vibration of the city + which stirred beyond the great gateway. Was it the chilly hand of death + passing over everything, and smothering all the activities? His pulses, + which, but a few minutes past, were throbbing and pounding like drums in + his ears, seemed now to flow and beat in very quiet. Was this, then, the + way that murderers felt, that men felt who took human life—so + frozen, so little a part of their surroundings? Did they move as dead men + among the living, devitalised, vacuous calm? + </p> + <p> + His life had been suddenly twisted out of recognition. All that his habit, + his code, his morals, his religion, had imposed upon him had been + overturned in one moment. To take a human life, even in battle, was + against the code by which he had ever been governed, yet he had taken life + secretly, and was hiding it from the world. + </p> + <p> + Accident? But had it been necessary to strike at all? His presence alone + would have been enough to save the girl from further molestation; but, he + had thrown himself upon the man like a tiger. Yet, somehow, he felt no + sorrow for that. He knew that if again and yet again he were placed in the + same position he would do even as he had done—even as he had done + with the man Kimber by the Fox and Goose tavern beyond Hamley. He knew + that the blow he had given then was inevitable, and he had never felt real + repentance. Thinking of that blow, he saw its sequel in the blow he had + given now. Thus was that day linked with the present, thus had a blow + struck in punishment of the wrong done the woman at the crossroads been + repeated in the wrong done the girl who had just left him. + </p> + <p> + A sound now broke the stillness. It was a door shutting not far off. Kaid + was coming. David turned his face towards the room where Foorgat Bey was + lying dead. He lifted his arms with a sudden passionate gesture. The blood + came rushing through his veins again. His life, which had seemed + suspended, was set free; and an exaltation of sorrow, of pain, of action, + possessed him. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken a life, O my God!” he murmured. “Accept mine in service for + this land. What I have done in secret, let me atone for in secret, for + this land—for this poor land, for Christ’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + Footsteps were approaching quickly. With a great effort of the will he + ruled himself to quietness again. Kaid entered, and stood before him in + silence. David rose. He looked Kaid steadily in the eyes. “Well?” said + Kaid placidly. + </p> + <p> + “For Egypt’s sake I will serve thee,” was the reply. He held out his hand. + Kaid took it, but said, in smiling comment on the action: “As the + Viceroy’s servant there is another way!” + </p> + <p> + “I will salaam to-morrow, Kaid,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + “It is the only custom of the place I will require of thee, effendi. + Come.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later they were standing among the consuls and officials in + the salon. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Nahoum?” asked Kaid, looking round on the agitated throng. + </p> + <p> + No one answered. Smiling, Kaid whispered in David’s ear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE COMPACT + </h2> + <p> + One by one the lights went out in the Palace. The excited guests were now + knocking at the doors of Cairene notables, bent upon gossip of the night’s + events, or were scouring the bazaars for ears into which to pour the tale + of how David was exalted and Nahoum was brought low; how, before them all, + Kaid had commanded Nahoum to appear at the Palace in the morning at + eleven, and the Inglesi, as they had named David, at ten. But they + declared to all who crowded upon their words that the Inglesi left the + Palace with a face frozen white, as though it was he that had met debacle, + while Nahoum had been as urbane and cynical as though he had come to the + fulness of his power. + </p> + <p> + Some, on hearing this, said: “Beware Nahoum!” But those who had been at + the Palace said: “Beware the Inglesi!” This still Quaker, with the white + shining face and pontifical hat, with his address of “thee” and “thou,” + and his forms of speech almost Oriental in their imagery and simplicity, + himself an archaism, had impressed them with a sense of power. He had + prompted old Diaz Pasha to speak of him as a reincarnation, so separate + and withdrawn he seemed at the end of the evening, yet with an uncanny + mastery in his dark brown eyes. One of the Ulema, or holy men, present had + said in reply to Diaz: “It is the look of one who hath walked with Death + and bought and sold with Sheitan the accursed.” To Nahoum Pasha, Dim had + said, as the former left the Palace, a cigarette between his fingers: + “Sleep not nor slumber, Nahoum. The world was never lost by one + earthquake.” And Nahoum had replied with a smooth friendliness: “The world + is not reaped in one harvest.” + </p> + <p> + “The day is at hand—the East against the West,” murmured old Diaz, + as he passed on. + </p> + <p> + “The day is far spent,” answered Nahoum, in a voice unheard by Diaz; and, + with a word to his coachman, who drove off quickly, he disappeared in the + shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later he was tapping at the door of Mizraim, the Chief + Eunuch. Three times he tapped in the same way. Presently the door opened, + and he stepped inside. The lean, dark figure of Mizraim bowed low; the + long, slow fingers touched the forehead, the breast, and the lips. + </p> + <p> + “May God preserve thy head from harm, excellency, and the night give thee + sleep,” said Mizraim. He looked inquiringly at Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + “May thy head know neither heat nor cold, and thy joys increase,” + responded Nahoum mechanically, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + To an European it would have seemed a shameless mockery to have wished joy + to this lean, hateful dweller in the between-worlds; to Nahoum it was part + of a life which was all ritual and intrigue, gabbling superstition and + innate fatalism, decorated falsehood and a brave philosophy. + </p> + <p> + “I have work for thee at last, Mizraim,” said Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + “At last?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast but played before. To-night I must see the sweat of thy brow.” + </p> + <p> + Mizraim’s cold fingers again threw themselves against his breast, + forehead, and lips, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “As a woman swims in a fountain, so shall I bathe in sweat for thee, who + hath given with one hand and hath never taken with the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I did thee service once, Mizraim—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I was as a bird buffeted by the wind; upon thy masts my feet found rest. + Behold, I build my nest in thy sails, excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no birds in last year’s nest, Mizraim, thou dove,” said Nahoum, + with a cynical smile. “When I build, I build. Where I swear by the stone + of the corner, there am I from dark to dark and from dawn to dawn, pasha.” + Suddenly he swept his hand low to the ground and a ghastly sort of smile + crossed over his face. “Speak—I am thy servant. Shall I not hear? I + will put my hand in the entrails of Egypt, and wrench them forth for + thee.” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture so cruelly, so darkly, suggestive that Nahoum turned his + head away. There flashed before his mind the scene of death in which his + own father had lain, butchered like a beast in the shambles, a victim to + the rage of Ibrahim Pasha, the son of Mehemet Ali. + </p> + <p> + “Then listen, and learn why I have need of thee to-night.” + </p> + <p> + First, Nahoum told the story of David’s coming, and Kaid’s treatment of + himself, the foreshadowing of his own doom. Then of David and the girl, + and the dead body he had seen; of the escape of the girl, of David’s + return with Kaid—all exactly as it had happened, save that he did; + not mention the name of the dead man. + </p> + <p> + It did not astonish Mizraim that Nahoum had kept all this secret. That + crime should be followed by secrecy and further crime, if need be, seems + natural to the Oriental mind. Mizraim had seen removal follow upon + removal, and the dark Nile flowed on gloomily, silently, faithful to the + helpless ones tossed into its bosom. It would much have astonished him if + Nahoum had not shown a gaping darkness somewhere in his tale, and he felt + for the key to the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “And he who lies dead, excellency?” + </p> + <p> + “My brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Foorgat Bey!” + </p> + <p> + “Even he, Mizraim. He lured the girl here—a mad man ever. The other + madman was in the next room. He struck—come, and thou shalt see.” + </p> + <p> + Together they felt their way through the passages and rooms, and presently + entered the room where Foorgat Bey was lying. Nahoum struck a light, and, + as he held the candle, Mizraim knelt and examined the body closely. He + found the slight wound on the temple, then took the candle from Nahoum and + held it close to the corner of the marble pedestal. A faint stain of blood + was there. Again he examined the body, and ran his fingers over the face + and neck. Suddenly he stopped, and held the light close to the skin + beneath the right jaw. He motioned, and Nahoum laid his fingers also on + the spot. There was a slight swelling. + </p> + <p> + “A blow with the fist, excellency—skilful, and English.” He looked + inquiringly at Nahoum. “As a weasel hath a rabbit by the throat, so is the + Inglesi in thy hands.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum shook his head. “And if I went to Kaid, and said, ‘This is the work + of the Inglesi,’ would he believe? Kaid would hang me for the lie—would + it be truth to him? What proof have I, save the testimony of mine own + eyes? Egypt would laugh at that. Is it the time, while yet the singers are + beneath the windows, to assail the bride? All bridegrooms are mad. It is + all sunshine and morning with the favourite, the Inglesi. Only when the + shadows lengthen may he be stricken. Not now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why dost thou hide this from Kaid, O thou brother of the eagle?” + </p> + <p> + “For my gain and thine, keeper of the gate. To-night I am weak, because I + am poor. To-morrow I shall be rich and, it may be, strong. If Kaid knew of + this tonight, I should be a prisoner before cockcrow. What claims has a + prisoner? Kaid would be in my brother’s house at dawn, seizing all that is + there and elsewhere, and I on my way to Fazougli, to be strangled or + drowned.” + </p> + <p> + “O wise and far-seeing! Thine eye pierces the earth. What is there to do? + What is my gain—what thine?” + </p> + <p> + “Thy gain? The payment of thy debt to me.” Mizraim’s face lengthened. His + was a loathsome sort of gratitude. He was willing to pay in kind; but what + Oriental ever paid a debt without a gift in return, even as a bartering + Irishman demands his lucky penny. + </p> + <p> + “So be it, excellency, and my life is thine to spill upon the ground, a + scarlet cloth for thy feet. And backsheesh?” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum smiled grimly. “For backsheesh, thy turban full of gold.” + </p> + <p> + Mizraim’s eyes glittered-the dull black shine of a mongrel terrier’s. He + caught the sleeve of Nahoum’s coat and kissed it, then kissed his hand. + </p> + <p> + Thus was their bargain made over the dead body; and Mizraim had an almost + superstitious reverence for the fulfilment of a bond, the one virtue + rarely found in the Oriental. Nothing else had he, but of all men in Egypt + he was the best instrument Nahoum could have chosen; and of all men in + Egypt he was the one man who could surely help him. + </p> + <p> + “What is there now to do, excellency?” + </p> + <p> + “My coachman is with the carriage at the gate by which the English girl + left. It is open still. The key is in Foorgat’s pocket, no doubt; stolen + by him, no doubt also.... This is my design. Thou wilt drive him”—he + pointed to the body—“to his palace, seated in the carriage as though + he were alive. There is a secret entrance. The bowab of the gate will show + the way; I know it not. But who will deny thee? Thou comest from high + places—from Kaid. Who will speak of this? Will the bowab? In the + morning Foorgat will be found dead in his bed! The slight bruise thou + canst heal—thou canst?” + </p> + <p> + Mizraim nodded. “I can smooth it from the sharpest eye.” + </p> + <p> + “At dawn he will be found dead; but at dawn I shall be knocking at his + gates. Before the world knows I shall be in possession. All that is his + shall be mine, for at once the men of law shall be summoned, and my + inheritance secured before Kaid shall even know of his death. I shall take + my chances for my life.” + </p> + <p> + “And the coachman, and the bowab, and others it may be?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall not these be with thee—thou, Kaid’s keeper of the harem, the + lion at the door of his garden of women? Would it be strange that Foorgat, + who ever flew at fruit above his head, perilous to get or keep, should be + found on forbidden ground, or in design upon it? Would it be strange to + the bowab or the slave that he should return with thee stark and still? + They would but count it mercy of Kaid that he was not given to the + serpents of the Nile. A word from thee—would one open his mouth? + Would not the shadow of thy hand, of the swift doom, be over them? Would + not a handful of gold bind them to me? Is not the man dead? Are they not + mine—mine to bind or break as I will?” + </p> + <p> + “So be it! Wisdom is of thee as the breath of man is his life. I will + drive Foorgat Bey to his home.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later all that was left of Foorgat Bey was sitting in his + carriage beside Mizraim the Chief Eunuch—sitting upright, stony, and + still, and in such wise was driven swiftly to his palace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. FOR HIS SOUL’S SAKE AND THE LAND’S SAKE + </h2> + <p> + David came to know a startling piece of news the next morning-that Foorgat + Bey had died of heart-disease in his bed, and was so found by his + servants. He at once surmised that Foorgat’s body had been carried out of + the Palace; no doubt that it might not be thought he had come to his death + by command of Kaid. His mind became easier. Death, murder, crime in Egypt + was not a nine days’ wonder; it scarce outlived one day. When a man was + gone none troubled. The dead man was in the bosom of Allah; then why + should the living be beset or troubled? If there was foul play, why make + things worse by sending another life after the life gone, even in the way + of justice? + </p> + <p> + The girl David saved had told him her own name, and had given him the name + of the hotel at which she was staying. He had an early breakfast, and + prepared to go to her hotel, wishing to see her once more. There were + things to be said for the first and last time and then be buried for ever. + She must leave the country at once. In this sick, mad land, in this + whirlpool of secret murder and conspiracy, no one could tell what plot was + hatching, what deeds were forward; and he could not yet be sure that no + one save himself and herself knew who had killed Foorgat Bey. Her perfect + safety lay in instant flight. It was his duty to see that she went, and at + once—this very day. He would go and see her. + </p> + <p> + He went to the hotel. There he learned that, with her aunt, she had left + that morning for Alexandria en route to England. + </p> + <p> + He approved her wisdom, he applauded her decision. Yet—yet, somehow, + as he bent his footsteps towards his lodgings again he had a sense of + disappointment, of revelation. What might happen to him—evidently + that had not occurred to her. How could she know but that his life might + be in danger; that, after all, they might have been seen leaving the fatal + room? Well, she had gone, and with all his heart he was glad that she was + safe. + </p> + <p> + His judgment upon last night’s event was not coloured by a single direct + criticism upon the girl. But he could not prevent the suggestion suddenly + flashing into his mind that she had thought of herself first and last. + Well, she had gone; and he was here to face the future, unencumbered by + aught save the weight of his own conscience. + </p> + <p> + Yet, the weight of his conscience! His feet were still free—free for + one short hour before he went to Kaid; but his soul was in chains. As he + turned his course to the Nile, and crossed over the great bridge, there + went clanking by in chains a hundred conscripts, torn from their homes in + the Fayoum, bidding farewell for ever to their friends, receiving their + last offerings, for they had no hope of return. He looked at their haggard + and dusty faces, at their excoriated ankles, and his eyes closed in pain. + All they felt he felt. What their homes were to them, these fellaheen, + dragged forth to defend their country, to go into the desert and waste + their lives under leaders tyrannous, cruel, and incompetent, his old open + life, his innocence, his integrity, his truthfulness and character, were + to him. By an impulsive act, by a rash blow, he had asserted his humanity; + but he had killed his fellow-man in anger. He knew that as that fatal blow + had been delivered, there was no thought of punishment—it was blind + anger and hatred: it was the ancient virus working which had filled the + world with war, and armed it at the expense, the bitter and oppressive + expense, of the toilers and the poor. The taxes for wars were wrung out of + the sons of labour and sorrow. These poor fellaheen had paid taxes on + everything they possessed. Taxes, taxes, nothing but taxes from the + cradle! Their lands, houses, and palm-trees would be taxed still, when + they would reap no more. And having given all save their lives, these + lives they must now give under the whip and the chain and the sword. + </p> + <p> + As David looked at them in their single blue calico coverings, in which + they had lived and slept-shivering in the cold night air upon the bare + ground—these thoughts came to him; and he had a sudden longing to + follow them and put the chains upon his own arms and legs, and go forth + and suffer with them, and fight and die? To die were easy. To fight?... + Was it then come to that? He was no longer a man of peace, but a man of + the sword; no longer a man of the palm and the evangel, but a man of blood + and of crime! He shrank back out of the glare of the sun; for it suddenly + seemed to him that there was written upon his fore head, “This is a + brother of Cain.” For the first time in his life he had a shrinking from + the light, and from the sun which he had loved like a Persian, had, in a + sense, unconsciously worshipped. + </p> + <p> + He was scarcely aware where he was. He had wandered on until he had come + to the end of the bridge and into the great groups of traffickers who, at + this place, made a market of their wares. Here sat a seller of sugar cane; + there wandered, clanking his brasses, a merchant of sweet waters; there + shouted a cheap-jack of the Nile the virtues of a knife from Sheffield. + Yonder a camel-driver squatted and counted his earnings; and a sheepdealer + haggled with the owner of a ghiassa bound for the sands of the North. The + curious came about him and looked at him, but he did not see or hear. He + sat upon a stone, his gaze upon the river, following with his eyes, yet + without consciously observing, the dark riverine population whose ways are + hidden, who know only the law of the river and spend their lives in + eluding pirates and brigands now, and yet again the peaceful porters of + commerce. + </p> + <p> + To his mind, never a criminal in this land but less a criminal than he! + For their standard was a standard of might the only right; but he—his + whole life had been nurtured in an atmosphere of right and justice, had + been a spiritual demonstration against force. He was with out fear, as he + was without an undue love of life. The laying down of his life had never + been presented to him; and yet, now that his conscience was his only + judge, and it condemned him, he would gladly have given his life to pay + the price of blood. + </p> + <p> + That was impossible. His life was not his own to give, save by suicide; + and that would be the unpardonable insult to God and humanity. He had + given his word to the woman, and he would keep it. In those brief moments + she must have suffered more than most men suffer in a long life. Not her + hand, however, but his, had committed the deed. And yet a sudden wave of + pity for her rushed over him, because the conviction seized him that she + would also in her heart take upon herself the burden of his guilt as + though it were her own. He had seen it in the look of her face last night. + </p> + <p> + For the sake of her future it was her duty to shield herself from any + imputation which might as unjustly as scandalously arise, if the facts of + that black hour ever became known. Ever became known? The thought that + there might be some human eye which had seen, which knew, sent a shiver + through him. + </p> + <p> + “I would give my life a thousand times rather than that,” he said aloud to + the swift-flowing river. His head sank on his breast. His lips murmured in + prayer: + </p> + <p> + “But be merciful to me, Thou just Judge of Israel, for Thou hast made me, + and Thou knowest whereof I am made. Here will I dedicate my life to Thee + for the land’s sake. Not for my soul’s sake, O my God! If it be Thy will, + let my soul be cast away; but for the soul of him whose body I slew, and + for his land, let my life be the long sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + Dreams he had had the night before—terrible dreams, which he could + never forget; dreams of a fugitive being hunted through the world, + escaping and eluding, only to be hemmed in once more; on and on till he + grew grey and gaunt, and the hunt suddenly ended in a great morass, into + which he plunged with the howling world behind him. The grey, dank mists + came down on him, his footsteps sank deeper and deeper, and ever the + cries, as of damned spirits, grew in his ears. Mocking shapes flitted past + him, the wings of obscene birds buffeted him, the morass grew up about + him; and now it was all a red moving mass like a dead sea heaving about + him. With a moan of agony he felt the dolorous flood above his shoulders, + and then a cry pierced the gloom and the loathsome misery, and a voice he + knew called to him, “David, David, I am coming!” and he had awaked with + the old hallucination of his uncle’s voice calling to him in the dawn. + </p> + <p> + It came to him now as he sat by the water-side, and he raised his face to + the sun and to the world. The idlers had left him alone; none were staring + at him now. They were all intent on their own business, each man labouring + after his kind. He heard the voice of a riverman as he toiled at a rope + standing on the corn that filled his ghiassa from end to end, from keel to + gunwale. The man was singing a wild chant of cheerful labour, the soul of + the hard-smitten of the earth rising above the rack and burden of the + body: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O, the garden where to-day we sow and to-morrow we reap! + O, the sakkia turning by the garden walls; + O, the onion-field and the date-tree growing, + And my hand on the plough-by the blessing of God; + Strength of my soul, O my brother, all’s well!” + </pre> + <p> + The meaning of the song got into his heart. He pressed his hand to his + breast with a sudden gesture. It touched something hard. It was his flute. + Mechanically he had put it in his pocket when he dressed in the morning. + He took it out and looked at it lovingly. Into it he had poured his soul + in the old days—days, centuries away, it seemed now. It should still + be the link with the old life. He rose and walked towards his home again. + The future spread clearly before him. Rapine, murder, tyranny, oppression, + were round him on every side, and the ruler of the land called him to his + counsels. Here a great duty lay—his life for this land, his life, + and his love, and his faith. He would expiate his crime and his sin, the + crime of homicide for which he alone was responsible, the sin of secrecy + for which he and another were responsible. And that other? If only there + had been but one word of understanding between them before she left! + </p> + <p> + At the door of his house stood the American whom he had met at the citadel + yesterday-it seemed a hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got a letter for you,” Lacey said. “The lady’s aunt and herself are + cousins of mine more or less removed, and originally at home in the U. S. + A. a generation ago. Her mother was an American. She didn’t know your name—Miss + Hylda Maryon, I mean. I told her, but there wasn’t time to put it on.” He + handed over the unaddressed envelope. + </p> + <p> + David opened the letter, and read: + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the papers. I do not understand what has happened, but I know + that all is well. If it were not so, I would not go. That is the truth. + Grateful I am, oh, believe me! So grateful that I do not yet know what is + the return which I must make. But the return will be made. I hear of what + has come to you—how easily I might have destroyed all! My thoughts + blind me. You are great and good; you will know at least that I go because + it is the only thing to do. I fly from the storm with a broken wing. Take + now my promise to pay what I owe in the hour Fate wills—or in the + hour of your need. You can trust him who brings this to you; he is a + distant cousin of my own. Do not judge him by his odd and foolish words. + They hide a good character, and he has a strong nature. He wants work to + do. Can you give it? Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + David put the letter in his pocket, a strange quietness about his heart. + </p> + <p> + He scarcely realised what Lacey was saying. “Great girl that. Troubled + about something in England, I guess. Going straight back.” + </p> + <p> + David thanked him for the letter. Lacey became red in the face. He tried + to say something, but failed. “Thee wishes to say something to me, + friend?” asked David. + </p> + <p> + “I’m full up; I can’t speak. But, say—” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to the Palace now. Come back at noon if you will.” + </p> + <p> + He wrung David’s hand in gratitude. “You’re going to do it. You’re going + to do it. I see it. It’s a great game—like Abe Lincoln’s. Say, let + me black your boots while you’re doing it, will you?” + </p> + <p> + David pressed his hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE LETTER, THE NIGHT, AND THE WOMAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To-day has come the fulfilment of my dream, Faith. I am given to + my appointed task; I am set on a road of life in which there is no + looking back. My dreams of the past are here begun in very truth + and fact. When, in the night, I heard Uncle Benn calling, when in + the Meeting-house voices said, ‘Come away, come away, and labour, + thou art idle,’ I could hear my heart beat in the ardour to be off. + Yet I knew not whither. Now I know. + + “Last night the Prince Pasha called me to his Council, made me + adviser, confidant, as one who has the ear of his captain—after he + had come to terms with me upon that which Uncle Benn left of land + and gold. Think not that he tempted me. + + “Last night I saw favourites look upon me with hate because of + Kaid’s favour, though the great hall was filled with show of + cheerful splendour, and men smiled and feasted. To-day I know that + in the Palace where I was summoned to my first: duty with the + Prince, every step I took was shadowed, every motion recorded, every + look or word noted and set down. I have no fear of them. They are + not subtle enough for the unexpected acts of honesty in the life of + a true man. Yet I do not wonder men fail to keep honest in the + midst of this splendour, where all is strife as to who shall have + the Prince’s favour; who shall enjoy the fruits of bribery, + backsheesh, and monopoly; who shall wring from the slave and the + toil-ridden fellah the coin his poor body mints at the corvee, in + his own taxed fields of dourha and cucumbers. + + “Is this like anything we ever dreamed at Hamley, Faith? Yet here + am I set, and here shall I stay till the skein be ravelled out. + Soon I shall go into the desert upon a mission to the cities of the + South, to Dongola, Khartoum, and Darfur and beyond; for there is + trouble yonder, and war is near, unless it is given to me to bring + peace. So I must bend to my study of Arabic, which I am thankful I + learned long ago. And I must not forget to say that I shall take + with me on my journey that faithful Muslim Ebn Ezra. Others I shall + take also, but of them I shall write hereafter. + + “I shall henceforth be moving in the midst of things which I was + taught to hate. I pray that I may not hate them less as time goes + on. To-morrow I shall breathe the air of intrigue, shall hear + footsteps of spies behind me wherever I go; shall know that even the + roses in the garden have ears; that the ground under my feet will + telegraph my thoughts. Shall I be true? Shall I at last whisper, + and follow, and evade, believe in no one, much less in myself, steal + in and out of men’s confidences to use them for my own purposes? + Does any human being know what he can bear of temptation or of the + daily pressure of the life around him? what powers of resistance + are in his soul? how long the vital energy will continue to throw + off the never-ending seduction, the freshening force of evil? + Therein lies the power of evil, that it is ever new, ever fortified + by continuous conquest and achievements. It has the rare fire of + aggression; is ever more upon the offence than upon the defence; + has, withal, the false lure of freedom from restraint, the throbbing + force of sympathy. + + “Such things I dreamed not of in Soolsby’s but upon the hill, Faith, + though, indeed, that seemed a time of trial and sore-heartedness. + How large do small issues seem till we have faced the momentous + things! It is true that the larger life has pleasures and expanding + capacities; but it is truer still that it has perils, events which + try the soul as it is never tried in the smaller life—unless, + indeed, the soul be that of the Epicurean. The Epicurean I well + understand, and in his way I might have walked with a wicked grace. + I have in me some hidden depths of luxury, a secret heart of + pleasure, an understanding for the forbidden thing. I could have + walked the broad way with a laughing heart, though, in truth, habit + of mind and desire have kept me in the better path. But offences + must come, and woe to him from whom the offence cometh! I have + begun now, and only now, to feel the storms that shake us to our + farthest cells of life. I begin to see how near good is to evil; + how near faith is to unfaith; and how difficult it is to judge from + actions only; how little we can know to-day what we shall feel + tomorrow. Yet one must learn to see deeper, to find motive, not in + acts that shake the faith, but in character which needs no + explanation, which—” + </pre> + <p> + He paused, disturbed. Then he raised his head, as though not conscious of + what was breaking the course of his thoughts. Presently he realised a low, + hurried knocking at his door. He threw a hand over his eyes, and sprang + up. An instant later the figure of a woman, deeply veiled, stood within + the room, beside the table where he had been writing. There was silence as + they faced each other, his back against the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you not know me?” she said at last, and sank into the chair where + he had been sitting. + </p> + <p> + The question was unnecessary, and she knew it was so; but she could not + bear the strain of the silence. She seemed to have risen out of the letter + he had been writing; and had he not been writing of her—of what + concerned them both? How mean and small-hearted he had been, to have + thought for an instant that she had not the highest courage, though in + going she had done the discreeter, safer thing. But she had come—she + had come! + </p> + <p> + All this was in his eyes, though his face was pale and still. He was + almost rigid with emotion, for the ancient habit of repose and + self-command of the Quaker people was upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Can you not see—do you not know?” she repeated, her back upon him + now, her face still veiled, her hands making a swift motion of distress. + </p> + <p> + “Has thee found in the past that thee is so soon forgotten?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not blame me!” She raised her veil suddenly, and showed a face as + pale as his own, and in the eyes a fiery brightness. “I did not know. It + was so hard to come—do not blame me. I went to Alexandria—I + felt that I must fly; the air around me seemed full of voices crying out. + Did you not understand why I went?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he said, coming forward slowly. “Thee should not have + returned. In the way I go now the watchers go also.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had not come, you would never have understood,” she answered + quickly. “I am not sorry I went. I was so frightened, so shaken. My only + thought was to get away from the terrible Thing. But I should have been + sorry all my life long had I not come back to tell you what I feel, and + that I shall never forget. All my life I shall be grateful. You have saved + me from a thousand deaths. Ah, if I could give you but one life! Yet—yet—oh, + do not think but that I would tell you the whole truth, though I am not + wholly truthful. See, I love my place in the world more than I love my + life; and but for you I should have lost all.” + </p> + <p> + He made a protesting motion. “The debt is mine, in truth. But for you I + should never have known what, perhaps—” He paused. + </p> + <p> + His eyes were on hers, gravely speaking what his tongue faltered to say. + She looked and looked, but did not understand. She only saw troubled + depths, lighted by a soul of kindling purpose. “Tell me,” she said, awed. + </p> + <p> + “Through you I have come to know—” He paused again. What he was + going to say, truthful though it was, must hurt her, and she had been + sorely hurt already. He put his thoughts more gently, more vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “By what happened I have come to see what matters in life. I was behind + the hedge. I have broken through upon the road. I know my goal now. The + highway is before me.” + </p> + <p> + She felt the tragedy in his words, and her voice shook as she spoke. “I + wish I knew life better. Then I could make a better answer. You are on the + road, you say. But I feel that it is a hard and cruel road—oh, I + understand that at least! Tell me, please, tell me the whole truth. You + are hiding from me what you feel. I have upset your life, have I not? You + are a Quaker, and Quakers are better than all other Christian people, are + they not? Their faith is peace, and for me, you—” She covered her + face with her hands for an instant, but turned quickly and looked him in + the eyes: “For me you put your hand upon the clock of a man’s life, and + stopped it.” + </p> + <p> + She got to her feet with a passionate gesture, but he put a hand gently + upon her arm, and she sank back again. “Oh, it was not you; it was I who + did it!” she said. “You did what any man of honour would have done, what a + brother would have done.” + </p> + <p> + “What I did is a matter for myself only,” he responded quickly. “Had I + never seen your face again it would have been the same. You were the + occasion; the thing I did had only one source, my own heart and mind. + There might have been another way; but for that way, or for the way I did + take, you could not be responsible.” + </p> + <p> + “How generous you are!” Her eyes swam with tears; she leaned over the + table where he had been writing, and the tears dropped upon his letter. + Presently she realised this, and drew back, then made as though to dry the + tears from the paper with her handkerchief. As she did so the words that + he had written met her eye: “‘But offences must come, and woe to him from + whom the offence cometh!’ I have begun now, and only now, to feel the + storms that shake us to our farthest cells of life.” + </p> + <p> + She became very still. He touched her arm and said heavily: “Come away, + come away.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the words she had read. “I could not help but see, and now + I know what this must mean to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee must go at once,” he urged. “Thee should not have come. Thee was + safe—none knew. A few hours and it would all have been far behind. + We might never have met again.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she gave a low, hysterical laugh. “You think you hide the real + thing from me. I know I’m ignorant and selfish and feeble-minded, but I + can see farther than you think. You want to tell the truth about—about + it, because you are honest and hate hiding things, because you want to be + punished, and so pay the price. Oh, I can understand! If it were not for + me you would not....” With a sudden wild impulse she got to her feet. “And + you shall not,” she cried. “I will not have it.” Colour came rushing to + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I will not have it. I will not put myself so much in your debt. I will + not demand so much of you. I will face it all. I will stand alone.” + </p> + <p> + There was a touch of indignation in her voice. Somehow she seemed moved to + anger against him. Her hands were clasped at her side rigidly, her pulses + throbbing. He stood looking at her fixedly, as though trying to realise + her. His silence agitated her still further, and she spoke excitedly: + </p> + <p> + “I could have, would have, killed him myself without a moment’s regret. He + had planned, planned—ah, God, can you not see it all! I would have + taken his life without a thought. I was mad to go upon such an adventure, + but I meant no ill. I had not one thought that I could not have cried out + from the housetops, and he had in his heart—he had what you saw. But + you repent that you killed him—by accident, it was by accident. Do + you realise how many times others have been trapped by him as was I? Do + you not see what he was—as I see now? Did he not say as much to me + before you came, when I was dumb with terror? Did he not make me + understand what his whole life had been? Did I not see in a flash the + women whose lives he had spoiled and killed? Would I have had pity? Would + I have had remorse? No, no, no! I was frightened when it was done, I was + horrified, but I was not sorry; and I am not sorry. It was to be. It was + the true end to his vileness. Ah!” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered, and buried her face in her hands for a moment, then went + on: “I can never forgive myself for going to the Palace with him. I was + mad for experience, for mystery; I wanted more than the ordinary share of + knowledge. I wanted to probe things. Yet I meant no wrong. I thought then + nothing of which I shall ever be ashamed. But I shall always be ashamed + because I knew him, because he thought that I—oh, if I were a man, I + should be glad that I had killed him, for the sake of all honest women!” + </p> + <p> + He remained silent. His look was not upon her, he seemed lost in a dream; + but his face was fixed in trouble. + </p> + <p> + She misunderstood his silence. “You had the courage, the impulse to—to + do it,” she said keenly; “you have not the courage to justify it. I will + not have it so. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell the truth to all the world. I will not shrink I shrank + yesterday because I was afraid of the world; to-day I will face it, I will—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped suddenly, and another look flashed into her face. Presently + she spoke in a different tone; a new light had come upon her mind. “But I + see,” she added. “To tell all is to make you the victim, too, of what he + did. It is in your hands; it is all in your hands; and I cannot speak + unless—unless you are ready also.” + </p> + <p> + There was an unintended touch of scorn in her voice. She had been troubled + and tried beyond bearing, and her impulsive nature revolted at his + silence. She misunderstood him, or, if she did not wholly misunderstand + him, she was angry at what she thought was a needless remorse or + sensitiveness. Did not the man deserve his end? + </p> + <p> + “There is only one course to pursue,” he rejoined quietly, “and that is + the course we entered upon last night. I neither doubted yourself nor your + courage. Thee must not turn back now. Thee must not alter the course which + was your own making, and the only course which thee could, or I should, + take. I have planned my life according to the word I gave you. I could not + turn back now. We are strangers, and we must remain so. Thee will go from + here now, and we must not meet again. I am—” + </p> + <p> + “I know who you are,” she broke in. “I know what your religion is; that + fighting and war and bloodshed is a sin to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am of no family or place in England,” he went on calmly. “I come of + yeoman and trading stock; I have nothing in common with people of rank. + Our lines of life will not cross. It is well that it should be so. As to + what happened—that which I may feel has nothing to do with whether I + was justified or no. But if thee has thought that I have repented doing + what I did, let that pass for ever from your mind. I know that I should do + the same, yes, even a hundred times. I did according to my nature. Thee + must not now be punished cruelly for a thing thee did not do. Silence is + the only way of safety or of justice. We must not speak of this again. We + must each go our own way.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were moist. She reached out a hand to him timidly. “Oh, forgive + me,” she added brokenly, “I am so vain, so selfish, and that makes one + blind to the truth. It is all clearer now. You have shown me that I was + right in my first impulse, and that is all I can say for myself. I shall + pray all my life that it will do you no harm in the end.” + </p> + <p> + She remained silent, for a moment adjusting her veil, preparing to go. + Presently she spoke again: “I shall always want to know about you—what + is happening to you. How could it be otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + She was half realising one of the deepest things in existence, that the + closest bond between two human beings is a bond of secrecy upon a thing + which vitally, fatally concerns both or either. It is a power at once + malevolent and beautiful. A secret like that of David and Hylda will do in + a day what a score of years could not accomplish, will insinuate + confidences which might never be given to the nearest or dearest. In + neither was any feeling of the heart begotten by their experiences; and + yet they had gone deeper in each other’s lives than any one either had + known in a lifetime. They had struck a deeper note than love or + friendship. They had touched the chord of a secret and mutual experience + which had gone so far that their lives would be influenced by it for ever + after. Each understood this in a different way. + </p> + <p> + Hylda looked towards the letter lying on the table. It had raised in her + mind, not a doubt, but an undefined, undefinable anxiety. He saw the + glance, and said: “I was writing to one who has been as a sister to me. + She was my mother’s sister though she is almost as young as I. Her name is + Faith. There is nothing there of what concerns thee and me, though it + would make no difference if she knew.” Suddenly a thought seemed to strike + him. “The secret is of thee and me. There is safety. If it became + another’s, there might be peril. The thing shall be between us only, for + ever?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that I—” + </p> + <p> + “My instinct tells me a woman of sensitive mind might one day, out of an + unmerciful honesty, tell her husband—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not married-” + </p> + <p> + “But one day—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him. “Sentimental egotism will not rule me. Tell me,” she + added, “tell me one thing before I go. You said that your course was set. + What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I remain here,” he answered quietly. “I remain in the service of Prince + Kaid.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a dreadful government, an awful service—” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I stay.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to try and change things here—you alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not alone, in time.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to leave England, your friends, your family, your place—in + Hamley, was it not? My aunt has read of you—my cousin—” she + paused. + </p> + <p> + “I had no place in Hamley. Here is my place. Distance has little to do + with understanding or affection. I had an uncle here in the East for + twenty-five years, yet I knew him better than all others in the world. + Space is nothing if minds are in sympathy. My uncle talked to me over seas + and lands. I felt him, heard him speak.” + </p> + <p> + “You think that minds can speak to minds, no matter what the distance—real + and definite things?” + </p> + <p> + “If I were parted from one very dear to me, I would try to say to him or + her what was in my mind, not by written word only, but by the flying + thought.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down suddenly, as though overwhelmed. “Oh, if that were possible!” + she said. “If only one could send a thought like that!” Then with an + impulse, and the flicker of a sad smile, she reached out a hand. “If ever + in the years to come you want to speak to me, will you try to make me + understand, as your uncle did with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell,” he answered. “That which is deepest within us obeys only + the laws of its need. By instinct it turns to where help lies, as a wild + deer, fleeing, from captivity, makes for the veldt and the watercourse.” + </p> + <p> + She got to her feet again. “I want to pay my debt,” she said solemnly. “It + is a debt that one day must be paid—so awful—so awful!” A + swift change passed over her. She shuddered, and grew white. “I said brave + words just now,” she added in a hoarse whisper, “but now I see him lying + there cold and still, and you stooping over him. I see you touch his + breast, his pulse. I see you close his eyes. One instant full of the pulse + of life, the next struck out into infinite space. Oh, I shall never—how + can I ever-forget!” She turned her head away from him, then composed + herself again, and said quietly, with anxious eyes: “Why was nothing said + or done? Perhaps they are only waiting. Perhaps they know. Why was it + announced that he died in his bed at home?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell. When a man in high places dies in Egypt, it may be one + death or another. No one inquires too closely. He died in Kaid Pasha’s + Palace, where other men have died, and none has inquired too closely. + To-day they told me at the Palace that his carriage was seen to leave with + himself and Mizraim the Chief Eunuch. Whatever the object, he was secretly + taken to his house from the Palace, and his brother Nahoum seized upon his + estate in the early morning. + </p> + <p> + “I think that no one knows the truth. But it is all in the hands of God. + We can do nothing more. Thee must go. Thee should not have come. In + England thee will forget, as thee should forget. In Egypt I shall + remember, as I should remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee,” she repeated softly. “I love the Quaker thee. My grandmother was + an American Quaker. She always spoke like that. Will you not use thee and + thou in speaking to me, always?” + </p> + <p> + “We are not likely to speak together in any language in the future,” he + answered. “But now thee must go, and I will—” + </p> + <p> + “My cousin, Mr. Lacey, is waiting for me in the garden,” she answered. “I + shall be safe with him.” She moved towards the door. He caught the handle + to turn it, when there came the noise of loud talking, and the sound of + footsteps in the court-yard. He opened the door slightly and looked out, + then closed it quickly. “It is Nahoum Pasha,” he said. “Please, the other + room,” he added, and pointed to a curtain. “There is a window leading on a + garden. The garden-gate opens on a street leading to the Ezbekiah Square + and your hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “But, no, I shall stay here,” she said. She drew down her veil, then + taking from her pocket another, arranged it also, so that her face was + hidden. + </p> + <p> + “Thee must go,” he said—“go quickly.” Again he pointed. + </p> + <p> + “I will remain,” she rejoined, with determination, and seated herself in a + chair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE FOUR WHO KNEW + </h2> + <p> + There was a knocking at the door. David opened it. Nahoum Pasha stepped + inside, and stood still a moment looking at Hylda. Then he made low + salutation to her, touched his hand to his lips and breast saluting David, + and waited. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy business, pasha?” asked David quietly, and motioned towards a + chair. + </p> + <p> + “May thy path be on the high hills, Saadat-el-basha. I come for a favour + at thy hands.” Nahoum sat down. “What favour is mine to give to Nahoum + Pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “The Prince has given thee supreme place—it was mine but yesterday. + It is well. To the deserving be the fruits of deserving.” + </p> + <p> + “Is merit, then, so truly rewarded here?” asked David quietly. + </p> + <p> + “The Prince saw merit at last when he chose your Excellency for + councillor.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I show merit, then, in the eyes of Nahoum Pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “Even by urging the Prince to give me place under him again. Not as + heretofore—that is thy place—yet where it may be. I have + capacity. I can aid thee in the great task. Thou wouldst remake our Egypt—and + my heart is with you. I would rescue, not destroy. In years gone by I + tried to do good to this land, and I failed. I was alone. I had not the + strength to fight the forces around me. I was overcome. I had too little + faith. But my heart was with the right—I am an Armenian and a + Christian of the ancient faith. I am in sorrow. Death has humbled me. My + brother Foorgat Bey—may flowers bloom for ever on his grave!—he + is dead,”—his eyes were fixed on those of David, as with a perfectly + assured candour—“and my heart is like an empty house. But man must + not be idle and live—if Kaid lets me live. I have riches. Are not + Foorgat’s riches mine, his Palace, his gardens, his cattle, and his + plantations, are they not mine? I may sit in the court-yard and hear the + singers, may listen to the tale-tellers by the light of the moon; I may + hear the tales of Al-Raschid chanted by one whose tongue never falters, + and whose voice is like music; after the manner of the East I may give + bread and meat to the poor at sunset; I may call the dancers to the feast. + But what comfort shall it give? I am no longer a youth. I would work. I + would labour for the land of Egypt, for by work shall we fulfil ourselves, + redeem ourselves. Saadat, I would labour, but my master has taken away + from me the anvil, the fire, and the hammer, and I sit without the door + like an armless beggar. What work to do in Egypt save to help the land, + and how shall one help, save in the Prince’s service? There can be no + reform from outside. If I laboured for better things outside Kaid’s + Palace, how long dost thou think I should escape the Nile, or the + diamond-dust in my coffee? The work which I did, is it not so that it, + with much more, falls now to thy hands, Saadat, with a confidence from + Kaid that never was mine?” + </p> + <p> + “I sought not the office.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I a word of blame? I come to ask for work to do with thee. Do I not + know Prince Kaid? He had come to distrust us all. As stale water were we + in his taste. He had no pleasure in us, and in our deeds he found only + stones of stumbling. He knew not whom to trust. One by one we all had + yielded to ceaseless intrigue and common distrust of each other, until no + honest man was left; till all were intent to save their lives by holding + power; for in this land to lose power is to lose life. No man who has been + in high place, has had the secrets of the Palace and the ear of the + Prince, lives after he has lost favour. The Prince, for his safety, must + ensure silence, and the only silence in Egypt is the grave. In thee, + Saadat, Kaid has found an honest man. Men will call thee mad, if thou + remainest honest, but that is within thine own bosom and with fate. For + me, thou hast taken my place, and more. Malaish, it is the decree of fate, + and I have no anger. I come to ask thee to save my life, and then to give + me work.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I save thy life?” + </p> + <p> + “By reconciling the Effendina to my living, and then by giving me service, + where I shall be near to thee; where I can share with thee, though it be + as the ant beside the beaver, the work of salvation in Egypt. I am rich + since my brother was—” He paused; no covert look was in his eyes, no + sign of knowledge, nothing but meditation and sorrowful frankness—“since + Foorgat passed away in peace, praise be to God! He lay on his bed in the + morning, when one came to wake him, like a sleeping child, no sign of the + struggle of death upon him.” + </p> + <p> + A gasping sound came from the chair where Hylda sat; but he took no + notice. He appeared to be unconscious of David’s pain-drawn face, as he + sat with hands upon his knees, his head bent forward listening, as though + lost to the world. + </p> + <p> + “So did Foorgat, my brother, die while yet in the fulness of his manhood, + life beating high in his veins, with years before him to waste. He was a + pleasure-lover, alas! he laid up no treasure of work accomplished; and so + it was meet that he should die as he lived, in a moment of ease. And + already he is forgotten. It is the custom here. He might have died by + diamond-dust, and men would have set down their coffee-cups in surprise, + and then would have forgotten; or he might have been struck down by the + hand of an assassin, and, unless it was in the Palace, none would have + paused to note it. And so the sands sweep over his steps upon the shore of + time.” + </p> + <p> + After the first exclamation of horror, Hylda had sat rigid, listening as + though under a spell. Through her veil she gazed at Nahoum with a cramping + pain at her heart, for he seemed ever on the verge of the truth she + dreaded; and when he spoke the truth, as though unconsciously, she felt + she must cry out and rush from the room. He recalled to her the scene in + the little tapestried room as vividly as though it was there before her + eyes, and it had for the moment all the effect of a hideous nightmare. At + last, however, she met David’s eyes, and they guided her, for in them was + a steady strength and force which gave her confidence. At first he also + had been overcome inwardly, but his nerves were cool, his head was clear, + and he listened to Nahoum, thinking out his course meanwhile. + </p> + <p> + He owed this man much. He had taken his place, and by so doing had placed + his life in danger. He had killed the brother upon the same day that he + had dispossessed the favourite of office; and the debt was heavy. In + office Nahoum had done after his kind, after the custom of the place and + the people; and yet, as it would seem, the man had had stirrings within + him towards a higher path. He, at any rate, had not amassed riches out of + his position, and so much could not be said of any other servant of the + Prince Pasha. Much he had heard of Nahoum’s powerful will, hidden under a + genial exterior, and behind his friendly, smiling blue eyes. He had heard + also of cruelty—of banishment, and of enemies removed from his path + suddenly, never to be seen again; but, on the whole, men spoke with more + admiration of him than of any other public servant, Armenian Christian in + a Mahommedan country though he was. That very day Kaid had said that if + Nahoum had been less eager to control the State, he might still have held + his place. Besides, the man was a Christian—of a mystic, + half-legendary, obscure Christianity; yet having in his mind the old + faith, its essence and its meaning, perhaps. Might not this Oriental mind, + with that faith, be a power to redeem the land? It was a wonderful dream, + in which he found the way, as he thought, to atone somewhat to this man + for a dark injury done. + </p> + <p> + When Nahoum stopped speaking David said: “But if I would have it, if it + were well that it should be, I doubt I have the power to make it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Saadat-el-bdsha, Kaid believes in thee to-day; he will not believe + to-morrow if thou dost remain without initiative. Action, however + startling, will be proof of fitness. His Highness shakes a long spear. + Those who ride with him must do battle with the same valour. Excellency, I + have now great riches—since Death smote Foorgat Bey in the forehead”—still + his eyes conveyed no meaning, though Hylda shrank back—“and I would + use them for the good thou wouldst do here. Money will be needed, and + sufficient will not be at thy hand-not till new ledgers be opened, new + balances struck.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Hylda quietly, and with a continued air of innocence said: + “Shall it not be so-madame? Thou, I doubt not, are of his kin. It would + seem so, though I ask pardon if it be not so—wilt thou not urge his + Excellency to restore me to Kaid’s favour? I know little of the English, + though I know them humane and honest; but my brother, Foorgat Bey, he was + much among them, lived much in England, was a friend to many great + English. Indeed, on the evening that he died I saw him in the gallery of + the banquet-room with an English lady—can one be mistaken in an + English face? Perhaps he cared for her; perhaps that was why he smiled as + he lay upon his bed, never to move again. Madame, perhaps in England thou + mayst have known my brother. If that is so, I ask thee to speak for me to + his Excellency. My life is in danger, and I am too young to go as my + brother went. I do not wish to die in middle age, as my brother died.” + </p> + <p> + He had gone too far. In David’s mind there was no suspicion that Nahoum + knew the truth. The suggestion in his words had seemed natural; but, from + the first, a sharp suspicion was in the mind of Hylda, and his last words + had convinced her that if Nahoum did not surely know the truth, he + suspected it all too well. Her instinct had pierced far; and as she + realised his suspicions, perhaps his certainty, and heard his words of + covert insult, which, as she saw, David did not appreciate, anger and + determination grew in her. Yet she felt that caution must mark her words, + and that nothing but danger lay in resentment. She felt the everlasting + indignity behind the quiet, youthful eyes, the determined power of the + man; but she saw also that, for the present, the course Nahoum suggested + was the only course to take. And David must not even feel the suspicion in + her own mind, that Nahoum knew or suspected the truth. If David thought + that Nahoum knew, the end of all would come at once. It was clear, + however, that Nahoum meant to be silent, or he would have taken another + course of action. Danger lay in every direction, but, to her mind, the + least danger lay in following Nahoum’s wish. + </p> + <p> + She slowly raised her veil, showing a face very still now, with eyes as + steady as David’s. David started at her action, he thought it rash; but + the courage of it pleased him, too. + </p> + <p> + “You are not mistaken,” she said slowly in French; “your brother was known + to me. I had met him in England. It will be a relief to all his friends to + know that he passed away peacefully.” She looked him in the eyes + determinedly. “Monsieur Claridge is not my kinsman, but he is my + fellow-countryman. If you mean well by monsieur, your knowledge and your + riches should help him on his way. But your past is no guarantee of good + faith, as you will acknowledge.” + </p> + <p> + He looked her in the eyes with a far meaning. “But I am giving guarantees + of good faith now,” he said softly. “Will you—not?” + </p> + <p> + She understood. It was clear that he meant peace, for the moment at least. + </p> + <p> + “If I had influence I would advise him to reconcile you to Prince Kaid,” + she said quietly, then turned to David with an appeal in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + David stood up. “I will do what I can,” he said. “If thee means as well by + Egypt as I mean by thee, all may be well for all.” + </p> + <p> + “Saadat! Saadat!” said Nahoum, with show of assumed feeling, and made + salutation. Then to Hylda, making lower salutation still, he said: “Thou + hast lifted from my neck the yoke. Thou hast saved me from the shadow and + the dust. I am thy slave.” His eyes were like a child’s, wide and + confiding. + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the door, and was about to open it, when there came a + knocking, and he stepped back. Hylda drew down her veil. David opened the + door cautiously and admitted Mizraim the Chief Eunuch. Mizraim’s eyes + searched the room, and found Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + “Pasha,” he said to Nahoum, “may thy bones never return to dust, nor the + light of thine eyes darken! There is danger.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum nodded, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I speak, then?” He paused and made low salutation to David, saying, + “Excellency, I am thine ox to be slain.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, son of the flowering oak,” said Nahoum, with a sneer in his voice. + “What blessing dost thou bring?” + </p> + <p> + “The Effendina has sent for thee.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum’s eyes flashed. “By thee, lion of Abdin?” The lean, ghastly being + smiled. “He has sent a company of soldiers and Achmet Pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “Achmet! Is it so? They are here, Mizraim, watcher of the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “They are at thy palace—I am here, light of Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “How knewest thou I was here?” + </p> + <p> + Mizraim salaamed. “A watch was set upon thee this morning early. The + watcher was of my slaves. He brought the word to me that thou wast here + now. A watcher also was set upon thee, Excellency”—he turned to + David. “He also was of my slaves. Word was delivered to his Highness that + thou”—he turned to Nahoum again—“wast in thy palace, and + Achmet Pasha went thither. He found thee not. Now the city is full of + watchers, and Achmet goes from bazaar to bazaar, from house to house which + thou was wont to frequent—and thou art here.” + </p> + <p> + “What wouldst thou have me do, Mizraim?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art here; is it the house of a friend or a foe?” Nahoum did not + answer. His eyes were fixed in thought upon the floor, but he was smiling. + He seemed without fear. + </p> + <p> + “But if this be the house of a friend, is he safe here?” asked David. + </p> + <p> + “For this night, it may be,” answered Mizraim, “till other watchers be + set, who are no slaves of mine. Tonight, here, of all places in Cairo, he + is safe; for who could look to find him where thou art who hast taken from + him his place and office, Excellency—on whom the stars shine for + ever! But in another day, if my lord Nahoum be not forgiven by the + Effendina, a hundred watchers will pierce the darkest corner of the + bazaar, the smallest room in Cairo.” + </p> + <p> + David turned to Nahoum. “Peace be to thee, friend. Abide here till + to-morrow, when I will speak for thee to his Highness, and, I trust, bring + thee pardon. It shall be so—but I shall prevail,” he added, with + slow decision; “I shall prevail with him. My reasons shall convince his + Highness.” + </p> + <p> + “I can help thee with great reasons, Saadat,” said Nahoum. “Thou shalt + prevail. I can tell thee that which will convince Kaid.” + </p> + <p> + While they were speaking, Hylda had sat motionless watching. At first it + seemed to her that a trap had been set, and that David was to be the + victim of Oriental duplicity; but revolt, as she did, from the miserable + creature before them, she saw at last that he spoke the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Thee will remain under this roof to-night, pasha?” asked David. + </p> + <p> + “I will stay if thy goodness will have it so,” answered Nahoum slowly. “It + is not my way to hide, but when the storm comes it is well to shelter.” + </p> + <p> + Salaaming low, Mizraim withdrew, his last glance being thrown towards + Hylda, who met his look with a repugnance which made her face rigid. She + rose and put on her gloves. Nahoum rose also, and stood watching her + respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Thee will go?” asked David, with a movement towards her. + </p> + <p> + She inclined her head. “We have finished our business, and it is late,” + she answered. + </p> + <p> + David looked at Nahoum. “Thee will rest here, pasha, in peace. In a moment + I will return.” He took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden flash of Nahoum’s eyes, as though he saw an outcome of + the intention which pleased him, but Hylda, saw the flash, and her senses + were at once alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to accompany me,” she said. “My cousin waits for me.” + </p> + <p> + David opened the door leading into the court-yard. It was dark, save for + the light of a brazier of coals. A short distance away, near the outer + gate, glowed a star of red light, and the fragrance of a strong cigar came + over. + </p> + <p> + “Say, looking for me?” said a voice, and a figure moved towards David. + “Yours to command, pasha, yours to command.” Lacey from Chicago held out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thee is welcome, friend,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “She’s ready, I suppose. Wonderful person, that. Stands on her own feet + every time. She don’t seem as though she came of the same stock as me, + does she?” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring her if thee will wait, friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m waiting.” Lacey drew back to the gateway again and leaned against the + wall, his cigar blazing in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + A moment later David appeared in the garden again, with the slim, graceful + figure of the girl who stood “upon her own feet.” David drew her aside for + a moment. “Thee is going at once to England?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow to Alexandria. There is a steamer next day for Marseilles. In a + fortnight more I shall be in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee must forget Egypt,” he said. “Remembrance is not a thing of the + will,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “It is thy duty to forget. Thee is young, and it is spring with thee. + Spring should be in thy heart. Thee has seen a shadow; but let it not + fright thee.” + </p> + <p> + “My only fear is that I may forget,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yet thee will forget.” + </p> + <p> + With a motion towards Lacey he moved to the gate. Suddenly she turned to + him and touched his arm. “You will be a great man herein Egypt,” she said. + “You will have enemies without number. The worst of your enemies always + will be your guest to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He did not, for a moment, understand. “Nahoum?” he asked. “I take his + place. It would not be strange; but I will win him to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never win him,” she answered. “Oh, trust my instinct in this! + Watch him. Beware of him.” David smiled slightly. “I shall have need to + beware of many. I am sure thee does well to caution me. Farewell,” he + added. + </p> + <p> + “If it should be that I can ever help you—” she said, and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has helped me,” he replied. “The world is a desert. Caravans from + all quarters of the sun meet at the cross-roads. One gives the other food + or drink or medicine, and they move on again. And all grows dim with time. + And the camel-drivers are forgotten; but the cross-roads remain, and the + food and the drink and the medicine and the cattle helped each caravan + upon the way. Is it not enough?” + </p> + <p> + She placed her hand in his. It lay there for a moment. “God be with thee, + friend,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The next instant Thomas Tilman Lacey’s drawling voice broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “There’s something catching about these nights in Egypt. I suppose it’s + the air. No wind—just the stars, and the ultramarine, and the + nothing to do but lay me down and sleep. It doesn’t give you the jim-jumps + like Mexico. It makes you forget the world, doesn’t it? You’d do things + here that you wouldn’t do anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + The gate was opened by the bowab, and the two passed through. David was + standing by the brazier, his hand held unconsciously over the coals, his + eyes turned towards them. The reddish flame from the fire lit up his face + under the broad-brimmed hat. His head, slightly bowed, was thrust forward + to the dusk. Hylda looked at him steadily for a moment. Their eyes met, + though hers were in the shade. Again Lacey spoke. “Don’t be anxious. I’ll + see her safe back. Good-bye. Give my love to the girls.” + </p> + <p> + David stood looking at the closed gate with eyes full of thought and + wonder and trouble. He was not thinking of the girl. There was no + sentimental reverie in his look. Already his mind was engaged in scrutiny + of the circumstances in which he was set. He realised fully his situation. + The idealism which had been born with him had met its reward in a labour + herculean at the least, and the infinite drudgery of the practical issues + came in a terrible pressure of conviction to his mind. The mind did not + shrink from any thought of the dangers in which he would be placed, from + any vision of the struggle he must have with intrigue, and treachery and + vileness. In a dim, half-realised way he felt that honesty and truth would + be invincible weapons with a people who did not know them. They would be + embarrassed, if not baffled, by a formula of life and conduct which they + could not understand. + </p> + <p> + It was not these matters that vexed him now, but the underlying forces of + life set in motion by the blow which killed a fellow-man. This fact had + driven him to an act of redemption unparalleled in its intensity and + scope; but he could not tell—and this was the thought that shook his + being—how far this act itself, inspiring him to a dangerous and + immense work in life, would sap the best that was in him, since it must + remain a secret crime, for which he could not openly atone. He asked + himself as he stood by the brazier, the bowab apathetically rolling + cigarettes at his feet, whether, in the flow of circumstance, the fact + that he could not make open restitution, or take punishment for his + unlawful act, would undermine the structure of his character. He was on + the threshold of his career: action had not yet begun; he was standing + like a swimmer on a high shore, looking into depths beneath which have + never been plumbed by mortal man, wondering what currents, what rocks, lay + beneath the surface of the blue. Would his strength, his knowledge, his + skill, be equal to the enterprise? Would he emerge safe and successful, or + be carried away by some strong undercurrent, be battered on unseen rocks? + </p> + <p> + He turned with a calm face to the door behind which sat the displaced + favourite of the Prince, his mind at rest, the trouble gone out of his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Benn! Uncle Benn!” he said to himself, with a warmth at his heart + as he opened the door and stepped inside. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum sat sipping coffee. A cigarette was between his fingers. He touched + his hand to his forehead and his breast as David closed the door and hung + his hat upon a nail. David’s servant, Mahommed Hassan, whom he had had + since first he came to Egypt, was gliding from the room—a large, + square-shouldered fellow of over six feet, dressed in a plain blue yelek, + but on his head the green turban of one who had done a pilgrimage to + Mecca. Nahoum waved a hand after Mahommed and said: + </p> + <p> + “Whence came thy servant sadat?” + </p> + <p> + “He was my guide to Cairo. I picked him from the street.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum smiled. There was no malice in the smile, only, as it might seem, a + frank humour. “Ah, your Excellency used independent judgment. Thou art a + judge of men. But does it make any difference that the man is a thief and + a murderer—a murderer?” + </p> + <p> + David’s eyes darkened, as they were wont to do when he was moved or + shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Shall one only deal, then, with those who have neither stolen nor slain—is + that the rule of the just in Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum raised his eyes to the ceiling as though in amiable inquiry, and + began to finger a string of beads as a nun might tell her paternosters. + “If that were the rule,” he answered, after a moment, “how should any man + be served in Egypt? Hereabouts is a man’s life held cheap, else I had not + been thy guest to-night; and Kaid’s Palace itself would be empty, if every + man in it must be honest. But it is the custom of the place for political + errors to be punished by a hidden hand; we do not call it murder.” + </p> + <p> + “What is murder, friend?” + </p> + <p> + “It is such a crime as that of Mahommed yonder, who killed—” + </p> + <p> + David interposed. “I do not wish to know his crime. That is no affair + between thee and me.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum fingered his beads meditatively. “It was an affair of the housetops + in his town of Manfaloot. I have only mentioned it because I know what + view the English take of killing, and how set thou art to have thy + household above reproach, as is meet in a Christian home. So, I took it, + would be thy mind—which Heaven fill with light for Egypt’s sake!—that + thou wouldst have none about thee who were not above reproach, neither + liars, nor thieves, nor murderers.” + </p> + <p> + “But thee would serve with me, friend,” rejoined David quietly. “Thee has + men’s lives against thy account.” + </p> + <p> + “Else had mine been against their account.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not so with Mahommed? If so, according to the custom of the land, + then Mahommed is as immune as thou art.” + </p> + <p> + “Saadat, like thee I am a Christian, yet am I also Oriental, and what is + crime with one race is none with another. At the Palace two days past thou + saidst thou hadst never killed a man; and I know that thy religion + condemns killing even in war. Yet in Egypt thou wilt kill, or thou shalt + thyself be killed, and thy aims will come to naught. When, as thou wouldst + say, thou hast sinned, hast taken a man’s life, then thou wilt understand. + Thou wilt keep this fellow Mahommed, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, and I will keep him.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely thy heart is large and thy mind great. It moveth above small + things. Thou dost not seek riches here?” + </p> + <p> + “I have enough; my wants are few.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no precedent for one in office to withhold his hand from profit + and backsheesh.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we not try to make a precedent?” + </p> + <p> + “Truthfulness will be desolate—like a bird blown to sea, beating + ‘gainst its doom.” + </p> + <p> + “Truth will find an island in the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “If Egypt is that sea, Saadat, there is no island.” + </p> + <p> + David came over close to Nahoum, and looked him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Surely I can speak to thee, friend, as to one understanding. Thou art a + Christian—of the ancient fold. Out of the East came the light. Thy + Church has preserved the faith. It is still like a lamp in the mist and + the cloud in the East. Thou saidst but now that thy heart was with my + purpose. Shall the truth that I would practise here not find an island in + this sea—and shall it not be the soul of Nahoum Pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not given my word? Nay, then, I swear it by the tomb of my + brother, whom Death met in the highway, and because he loved the sun, and + the talk of men, and the ways of women, rashly smote him out of the garden + of life into the void. Even by his tomb I swear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou, then, such malice against Death? These things cannot happen + save by the will of God.” + </p> + <p> + “And by the hand of man. But I have no cause for revenge. Foorgat died in + his sleep like a child. Yet if it had been the hand of man, Prince Kaid or + any other, I would not have held my hand until I had a life for his.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art a Christian, yet thou wouldst meet one wrong by another?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an Oriental.” Then, with a sudden change of manner, he added: “But + thou hast a Christianity the like of which I have never seen. I will learn + of thee, Saadat, and thou shalt learn of me also many things which I know. + They will help thee to understand Egypt and the place where thou wilt be + set—if so be my life is saved, and by thy hand.” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed entered, and came to David. “Where wilt thou sleep, Saadat?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “The pasha will sleep yonder,” David replied, pointing to another room. “I + will sleep here.” He laid a hand upon the couch where he sat. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum rose and, salaaming, followed Mahommed to the other room. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments the house was still, and remained so for hours. Just + before dawn the curtain of Nahoum’s room was drawn aside, the Armenian + entered stealthily, and moved a step towards the couch where David lay. + Suddenly he was stopped by a sound. He glanced towards a corner near + David’s feet. There sat Mahommed watching, a neboot of dom-wood across his + knees. + </p> + <p> + Their eyes remained fixed upon each other for a moment. Then Nahoum passed + back into his bedroom as stealthily as he had come. + </p> + <p> + Mahommed looked closely at David. He lay with an arm thrown over his head, + resting softly, a moisture on his forehead as on that of a sleeping child. + </p> + <p> + “Saadat! Saadat!” said Mahommed softly to the sleeping figure, scarcely + above his breath, and then with his eyes upon the curtained room opposite, + began to whisper words from the Koran: + </p> + <p> + “In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. AGAINST THE HOUR OF MIDNIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Achmet the Ropemaker was ill at ease. He had been set a task in which he + had failed. The bright Cairene sun starkly glittering on the French + chandeliers and Viennese mirrors, and beating on the brass trays and + braziers by the window, irritated him. He watched the flies on the wall + abstractedly; he listened to the early peripatetic salesmen crying their + wares in the streets leading to the Palace; he stroked his cadaverous + cheek with yellow fingers; he listened anxiously for a footstep. Presently + he straightened himself up, and his fingers ran down the front of his coat + to make sure that it was buttoned from top to bottom. He grew a little + paler. He was less stoical and apathetic than most Egyptians. Also he was + absurdly vain, and he knew that his vanity would receive rough usage. + </p> + <p> + Now the door swung open, and a portly figure entered quickly. For so large + a man Prince Kaid was light and subtle in his movements. His face was + mobile, his eye keen and human. + </p> + <p> + Achmet salaamed low. “The gardens of the First Heaven be thine, and the + uttermost joy, Effendina,” he said elaborately. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand colours to the rainbow of thy happiness,” answered Kaid + mechanically, and seated himself cross-legged on a divan, taking a + narghileh from the black slave who had glided ghostlike behind him. + </p> + <p> + “What hour didst thou find him? Where hast thou placed him?” he added, + after a moment. + </p> + <p> + Achmet salaamed once more. “I have burrowed without ceasing, but the holes + are empty, Effendina,” he returned, abjectly and nervously. + </p> + <p> + He had need to be concerned. The reply was full of amazement and anger. + “Thou hast not found him? Thou hast not brought Nahoum to me?” Kaid’s eyes + were growing reddish; no good sign for those around him, for any that + crossed him or his purposes. + </p> + <p> + “A hundred eyes failed to search him out. Ten thousand piastres did not + find him; the kourbash did not reveal him.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s frown grew heavier. “Thou shalt bring Nahoum to me by midnight + to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “But if he has escaped, Effendina?” Achmet asked desperately. He had a + peasant’s blood; fear of power was ingrained. + </p> + <p> + “What was thy business but to prevent escape? Son of a Nile crocodile, if + he has escaped, thou too shalt escape from Egypt—into Fazougli. + Fool, Nahoum is no coward. He would remain. He is in Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “If he be in Egypt, I will find him, Effendina. Have I ever failed? When + thou hast pointed, have I not brought? Have there not been many, + Effendina? Should I not bring Nahoum, who has held over our heads the + rod?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid looked at him meditatively, and gave no answer to the question. “He + reached too far,” he muttered. “Egypt has one master only.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened softly and the black slave stole in. His lips moved, but + scarce a sound travelled across the room. Kaid understood, and made a + gesture. An instant afterwards the vast figure of Higli Pasha bulked into + the room. Again there were elaborate salutations and salaams, and Kaid + presently said: + </p> + <p> + “Foorgat?” + </p> + <p> + “Effendina,” answered High, “it is not known how he died. He was in this + Palace alive at night. In the morning he was found in bed at his own + home.” + </p> + <p> + “There was no wound?” + </p> + <p> + “None, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “The thong?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no mark, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Poison?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no sign, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Diamond-dust?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, Effendina. There was not time. He was alive and well here at + the Palace at eleven, and—” Kaid made an impatient gesture. “By the + stone in the Kaabah, but it is not reasonable that Foorgat should die in + his bed like a babe and sleep himself into heaven! Fate meant him for a + violent end; but ere that came there was work to do for me. He had a gift + for scenting treason—and he had treasure.” His eyes shut and opened + again with a look not pleasant to see. “But since it was that he must die + so soon, then the loan he promised must now be a gift from the dead, if he + be dead, if he be not shamming. Foorgat was a dire jester.” + </p> + <p> + “But now it is no jest, Effendina. He is in his grave.” + </p> + <p> + “In his grave! Bismillah! In his grave, dost thou say?” + </p> + <p> + High’s voice quavered. “Yesterday before sunset, Effendina. By Nahoum’s + orders.” + </p> + <p> + “I ordered the burial for to-day. By the gates of hell, but who shall + disobey me!” + </p> + <p> + “He was already buried when the Effendina’s orders came,” High pleaded + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum should have been taken yesterday,” he rejoined, with malice in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If I had received the orders of the Effendina on the night when the + Effendina dismissed Nahoum—” Achmet said softly, and broke off. + </p> + <p> + “A curse upon thine eyes that did not see thy duty!” Kaid replied + gloomily. Then he turned to High. “My seal has been put upon Foorgat’s + doors? His treasure-places have been found? The courts have been commanded + as to his estate, the banks—” + </p> + <p> + “It was too late, Effendina,” replied High hopelessly. Kaid got to his + feet slowly, rage possessing him. “Too late! Who makes it too late when I + command?” + </p> + <p> + “When Foorgat was found dead, Nahoum at once seized the palace and the + treasures. Then he went to the courts and to the holy men, and claimed + succession. That was while it was yet early morning. Then he instructed + the banks. The banks hold Foorgat’s fortune against us, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Foorgat had turned Mahommedan. Nahoum is a Christian. My will is law. + Shall a Christian dog inherit from a true believer? The courts, the Wakfs + shall obey me. And thou, son of a burnt father, shalt find Nahoum! Kaid + shall not be cheated. Foorgat pledged the loan. It is mine. Allah scorch + thine eyes!” he added fiercely to Achmet, “but thou shalt find this + Christian gentleman, Nahoum.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with a motion of disgust, he sat down, and taking the stem of + the narghileh, puffed vigorously in silence. Presently in a red fury he + cried: “Go—go—go, and bring me back by midnight Nahoum, and + Foorgat’s treasures, to the last piastre. Let every soldier be a spy, if + thine own spies fail.” + </p> + <p> + As they turned to go, the door opened again, the black slave appeared, and + ushered David into the room. David salaamed, but not low, and stood still. + </p> + <p> + On the instant Kaid changed, The rage left his face. He leaned forward + eagerly, the cruel and ugly look faded slowly from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “May thy days of life be as a river with sands of gold, effendi,” he said + gently. He had a voice like music. “May the sun shine in thy heart and + fruits of wisdom flourish there, Effendina,” answered David quietly. He + saluted the others gravely, and his eyes rested upon Achmet in a way which + Higli Pasha noted for subsequent gossip. + </p> + <p> + Kaid pulled at his narghileh for a moment, mumbling good-humouredly to + himself and watching the smoke reel away; then, with half-shut eyes, he + said to David: “Am I master in Egypt or no, effendi?” + </p> + <p> + “In ruling this people the Prince of Egypt stands alone,” answered David. + “There is no one between him and the people. There is no Parliament.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in my hand, then, to give or to withhold, to make or to break?” + Kaid chuckled to have this tribute, as he thought, from a Christian, who + did not blink at Oriental facts, and was honest. + </p> + <p> + David bowed his head to Kaid’s words. + </p> + <p> + “Then if it be my hand that lifts up or casts down, that rewards or that + punishes, shall my arm not stretch into the darkest corner of Egypt to + bring forth a traitor? Shall it not be so?” + </p> + <p> + “It belongs to thy power,” answered David. “It is the ancient custom of + princes here. Custom is law, while it is yet the custom.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid looked at him enigmatically for a moment, then smiled grimly—he + saw the course of the lance which David had thrown. He bent his look + fiercely on Achmet and Higli. “Ye have heard. Truth is on his lips. I have + stretched out my arm. Ye are my arm, to reach for and gather in Nahoum and + all that is his.” He turned quickly to David again. “I have given this + hawk, Achmet, till to-morrow night to bring Nahoum to me,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “And if he fails—a penalty? He will lose his place?” asked David, + with cold humour. + </p> + <p> + “More than his place,” Kaid rejoined, with a cruel smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then is his place mine, Effendina,” rejoined David, with a look which + could give Achmet no comfort. “Thou will bring Nahoum—thou?” asked + Kaid, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought him,” answered David. “Is it not my duty to know the will + of the Effendina and to do it, when it is just and right?” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he—where does he wait?” questioned Kaid eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Within the Palace—here,” replied David. “He awaits his fate in + thine own dwelling, Effendina.” Kaid glowered upon Achmet. “In the years + which Time, the Scytheman, will cut from thy life, think, as thou fastest + at Ramadan or feastest at Beiram, how Kaid filled thy plate when thou wast + a beggar, and made thee from a dog of a fellah into a pasha. Go to thy + dwelling, and come here no more,” he added sharply. “I am sick of thy + yellow, sinful face.” + </p> + <p> + Achmet made no reply, but, as he passed beyond the door with Higli, he + said in a whisper: “Come—to Harrik and the army! He shall be + deposed. The hour is at hand.” High answered him faintly, however. He had + not the courage of the true conspirator, traitor though he was. + </p> + <p> + As they disappeared, Kaid made a wide gesture of friendliness to David, + and motioned to a seat, then to a narghileh. David seated himself, took + the stem of a narghileh in his mouth for an instant, then laid it down + again and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum—I do not understand,” Kaid said presently, his eyes + gloating. + </p> + <p> + “He comes of his own will, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore?” Kaid could not realise the truth. This truth was not Oriental + on the face of it. “Effendina, he comes to place his life in thy hands. He + would speak with thee.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it thou dost bring him?” + </p> + <p> + “He sought me to plead for him with thee, and because I knew his peril, I + kept him with me and brought him hither but now.” + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum went to thee?” Kaid’s eyes peered abstractedly into the distance + between the almost shut lids. That Nahoum should seek David, who had + displaced him from his high office, was scarcely Oriental, when his every + cue was to have revenge on his rival. This was a natural sequence to his + downfall. It was understandable. But here was David safe and sound. Was + it, then, some deeper scheme of future vengeance? The Oriental + instinctively pierced the mind of the Oriental. He could have realised + fully the fierce, blinding passion for revenge which had almost overcome + Nahoum’s calculating mind in the dark night, with his foe in the next + room, which had driven him suddenly from his bed to fall upon David, only + to find Mahommed Hassan watching—also with the instinct of the + Oriental. + </p> + <p> + Some future scheme of revenge? Kaid’s eyes gleamed red. There would be no + future for Nahoum. “Why did Nahoum go to thee?” he asked again presently. + </p> + <p> + “That I might beg his life of thee, Highness, as I said,” David replied. + </p> + <p> + “I have not ordered his death.” + </p> + <p> + David looked meditatively at him. “It was agreed between us yesterday that + I should speak plainly—is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid nodded, and leaned back among the cushions. + </p> + <p> + “If what the Effendina intends is fulfilled, there is no other way but + death for Nahoum,” added David. “What is my intention, effendi?” + </p> + <p> + “To confiscate the fortune left by Foorgat Bey. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a pledge from Foorgat—a loan.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the merit of the case, Effendina. I am otherwise concerned. There + is the law. Nahoum inherits. Shouldst thou send him to Fazougli, he would + still inherit.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a traitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Highness, where is the proof?” + </p> + <p> + “I know. My friends have disappeared one by one—Nahoum. Lands have + been alienated from me—Nahoum. My income has declined—Nahoum. + I have given orders and they have not been fulfilled—Nahoum. Always, + always some rumour of assassination, or of conspiracy, or the influence + and secret agents of the Sultan—all Nahoum. He is a traitor. He has + grown rich while I borrow from Europe to pay my army and to meet the + demands of the Sultan.” + </p> + <p> + “What man can offer evidence in this save the Effendina who would profit + by his death?” + </p> + <p> + “I speak of what I know. I satisfy myself. It is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Highness, there is a better way; to satisfy the people, for whom thee + lives. None should stand between. Is not the Effendina a father to them?” + </p> + <p> + “The people! Would they not say Nahoum had got his due if he were blotted + from their sight?” + </p> + <p> + “None has been so generous to the poor, so it is said by all. His hand has + been upon the rich only. Now, Effendina, he has brought hither the full + amount of all he has received and acquired in thy service. He would offer + it in tribute.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid smiled sardonically. “It is a thin jest. When a traitor dies the + State confiscates his goods!” + </p> + <p> + “Thee calls him traitor. Does thee believe he has ever conspired against + thy life?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Let me answer for thee, Effendina. Again and again he has defeated + conspiracy. He has blotted it out—by the sword and other means. He + has been a faithful servant to his Prince at least. If he has done after + the manner of all others in power here, the fault is in the system, not in + the man alone. He has been a friend to thee, Kaid.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to find in thee a better.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he not live?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast taken his place.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it, then, the custom to destroy those who have served thee, when they + cease to serve?” David rose to his feet quickly. His face was shining with + a strange excitement. It gave him a look of exaltation, his lips quivered + with indignation. “Does thee kill because there is silence in the grave?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid blew a cloud of smoke slowly. “Silence in the grave is a fact beyond + dispute,” he said cynically. + </p> + <p> + “Highness, thee changes servants not seldom,” rejoined David meaningly. + “It may be that my service will be short. When I go, will the long arm + reach out for me in the burrows where I shall hide?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid looked at him with ill-concealed admiration. “Thou art an Englishman, + not an Egyptian, a guest, not a subject, and under no law save my + friendship.” Then he added scornfully: “When an Englishman in England + leaves office, no matter how unfaithful, though he be a friend of any + country save his own, they send him to the House of Lords—or so I + was told in France when I was there. What does it matter to thee what + chances to Nahoum? Thou hast his place with me. My secrets are thine. They + shall all be thine—for years I have sought an honest man. Thou art + safe whether to go or to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be so. I heed it not. My life is as that of a gull—if the + wind carry it out to sea, it is lost. As my uncle went I shall go one day. + Thee will never do me ill; but do I not know that I shall have foes at + every corner, behind every mooshrabieh screen, on every mastaba, in the + pasha’s court-yard, by every mosque? Do I not know in what peril I serve + Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yet thou wouldst keep alive Nahoum! He will dig thy grave deep, and wait + long.” + </p> + <p> + “He will work with me for Egypt, Effendina.” Kaid’s face darkened. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask Nahoum’s life that he may serve under me, to do those things thou + and I planned yesterday—the land, taxation, the army, agriculture, + the Soudan. Together we will make Egypt better and greater and richer—the + poor richer, even though the rich be poorer.” + </p> + <p> + “And Kaid—poorer?” + </p> + <p> + “When Egypt is richer, the Prince is richer, too. Is not the Prince Egypt? + Highness, yesterday—yesterday thee gave me my commission. If thee + will not take Nahoum again into service to aid me, I must not remain. I + cannot work alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou must have this Christian Oriental to work with thee?” He looked at + David closely, then smiled sardonically, but with friendliness to David in + his eyes. “Nahoum has prayed to work with thee, to be a slave where he was + master? He says to thee that he would lay his heart upon the altar of + Egypt?” Mordant, questioning humour was in his voice. + </p> + <p> + David inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “He would give up all that is his?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “All save Foorgat’s heritage?” + </p> + <p> + “It belonged to their father. It is a due inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid laughed sarcastically. “It was got in Mehemet Ali’s service.” + </p> + <p> + “Nathless, it is a heritage, Effendina. He would give that fortune back + again to Egypt in work with me, as I shall give of what is mine, and of + what I am, in the name of God, the all-merciful!” + </p> + <p> + The smile faded out of Kaid’s face, and wonder settled on it. What manner + of man was this? His life, his fortune for Egypt, a country alien to him, + which he had never seen till six months ago! What kind of being was behind + the dark, fiery eyes and the pale, impassioned face? Was he some new + prophet? If so, why should he not have cast a spell upon Nahoum? Had he + not bewitched himself, Kaid, one of the ablest princes since Alexander or + Amenhotep? Had Nahoum, then, been mastered and won? Was ever such power? + In how many ways had it not been shown! He had fought for his uncle’s + fortune, and had got it at last yesterday without a penny of backsheesh. + Having got his will, he was now ready to give that same fortune to the + good of Egypt—but not to beys and pashas and eunuchs (and that he + should have escaped Mizraim was the marvel beyond all others!), or even to + the Prince Pasha; but to that which would make “Egypt better and greater + and richer—the poor richer, even though the rich be poorer!” Kaid + chuckled to himself at that. To make the rich poorer would suit him well, + so long as he remained rich. And, if riches could be got, as this pale + Frank proposed, by less extortion from the fellah and less kourbash, so + much the happier for all. + </p> + <p> + He was capable of patriotism, and this Quaker dreamer had stirred it in + him a little. Egypt, industrial in a real sense; Egypt, paying her own way + without tyranny and loans: Egypt, without corvee, and with an army hired + from a full public purse; Egypt, grown strong and able to resist the + suzerainty and cruel tribute—that touched his native goodness of + heart, so long, in disguise; it appealed to the sense of leadership in + him; to the love of the soil deep in his bones; to regard for the common + people—for was not his mother a slave? Some distant nobleness + trembled in him, while yet the arid humour of the situation flashed into + his eyes, and, getting to his feet, he said to David: “Where is Nahoum?” + </p> + <p> + David told him, and he clapped his hands. The black slave entered, + received an order, and disappeared. Neither spoke, but Kaid’s face was + full of cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + Presently Nahoum entered and salaamed low, then put his hand upon his + turban. There was submission, but no cringing or servility in his manner. + His blue eyes looked fearlessly before him. His face was not paler than + its wont. He waited for Kaid to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Peace be to thee,” Kaid murmured mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “And to thee, peace, O Prince,” answered Nahoum. “May the feet of Time + linger by thee, and Death pass thy house forgetful.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then Kaid spoke again. “What are thy + properties and treasure?” he asked sternly. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum drew forth a paper from his sleeve, and handed it to Kaid without a + word. Kaid glanced at it hurriedly, then said: “This is but nothing. What + hast thou hidden from me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is all I have got in thy service, Highness,” he answered boldly. “All + else I have given to the poor; also to spies—and to the army.” + </p> + <p> + “To spies—and to the army?” asked Kaid slowly, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Wilt thou come with me to the window, Effendina?” Kaid, wondering, went + to the great windows which looked on to the Palace square. There, drawn + up, were a thousand mounted men as black as ebony, wearing shining white + metal helmets and fine chain-armour and swords and lances like medieval + crusaders. The horses, too, were black, and the mass made a barbaric + display belonging more to another period in the world’s history. This + regiment of Nubians Kaid had recruited from the far south, and had + maintained at his own expense. When they saw him at the window now, their + swords clashed on their thighs and across their breasts, and they raised a + great shout of greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Kaid, with a ring to the voice. “They are loyal, Effendina, + every man. But the army otherwise is honeycombed with treason. Effendina, + my money has been busy in the army paying and bribing officers, and my + spies were costly. There has been sedition—conspiracy; but until I + could get the full proofs I waited; I could but bribe and wait. Were it + not for the money I had spent, there might have been another Prince of + Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + Kald’s face darkened. He was startled, too. He had been taken unawares. + “My brother Harrik—!” + </p> + <p> + “And I should have lost my place, lost all for which I cared. I had no + love for money; it was but a means. I spent it for the State—for the + Effendina, and to keep my place. I lost my place, however, in another + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Proofs! Proofs!” Kaid’s voice was hoarse with feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I have no proofs against Prince Harrik, no word upon paper. But there are + proofs that the army is seditious, that, at any moment, it may revolt.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast kept this secret?” questioned Kaid darkly and suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “The time had not come. Read, Effendina,” he added, handing some papers + over. + </p> + <p> + “But it is the whole army!” said Kaid aghast, as he read. He was + convinced. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one guilty,” returned Nahoum. Their eyes met. Oriental + fatalism met inveterate Oriental distrust and then instinctively Kaid’s + eyes turned to David. In the eyes of the Inglesi was a different thing. + The test of the new relationship had come. Ferocity was in his heart, a + vitriolic note was in his voice as he said to David, “If this be true—the + army rotten, the officers disloyal, treachery under every tunic—bismillah, + speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall it not be one thing at a time, Effendina?” asked David. He made a + gesture towards Nahoum. Kaid motioned to a door. “Wait yonder,” he said + darkly to Nahoum. As the door opened, and Nahoum disappeared leisurely and + composedly, David caught a glimpse of a guard of armed Nubians in + leopard-skins filed against the white wall of the other room. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy intention towards Nahoum, Effendina?” David asked presently. + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s voice was impatient. “Thou hast asked his life—take it; it is + thine; but if I find him within these walls again until I give him leave, + he shall go as Foorgat went.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the manner of Foorgat’s going?” asked David quietly. + </p> + <p> + “As a wind blows through a court-yard, and the lamp goes out, so he went—in + the night. Who can say? Wherefore speculate? He is gone. It is enough. + Were it not for thee, Egypt should see Nahoum no more.” + </p> + <p> + David sighed, and his eyes closed for an instant. “Effendina, Nahoum has + proved his faith—is it not so?” He pointed to the documents in + Kaid’s hands. + </p> + <p> + A grim smile passed over Kaid’s face. Distrust of humanity, incredulity, + cold cynicism, were in it. “Wheels within wheels, proofs within proofs,” + he said. “Thou hast yet to learn the Eastern heart. When thou seest white + in the East, call it black, for in an instant it will be black. Malaish, + it is the East! Have I not trusted—did I not mean well by all? Did I + not deal justly? Yet my justice was but darkness of purpose, the hidden + terror to them all. So did I become what thou findest me and dost believe + me—a tyrant, in whose name a thousand do evil things of which I + neither hear nor know. Proof! When a woman lies in your arms, it is not + the moment to prove her fidelity. Nahoum has crawled back to my feet with + these things, and by the beard of the Prophet they are true!” He looked at + the papers with loathing. “But what his purpose was when he spied upon and + bribed my army I know not. Yet, it shall be said, he has held Harrik back—Harrik, + my brother. Son of Sheitan and slime of the Nile, have I not spared Harrik + all these years!” + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou proof, Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + “I have proof enough; I shall have more soon. To save their lives, these, + these will tell. I have their names here.” He tapped the papers. “There + are ways to make them tell. Now, speak, effendi, and tell me what I shall + do to Harrik.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldst thou proclaim to Egypt, to the Sultan, to the world that the army + is disloyal? If these guilty men are seized, can the army be trusted? Will + it not break away in fear? Yonder Nubians are not enough—a handful + lost in the melee. Prove the guilt of him who perverted the army and + sought to destroy thee. Punish him.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall there be proof save through those whom he has perverted? There + is no writing.” + </p> + <p> + “There is proof,” answered David calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I find it?” Kaid laughed contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “I have the proof,” answered David gravely. “Against Harrik?” + </p> + <p> + “Against Prince Harrik Pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou—what dost thou know?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman of the Prince heard him give instructions for thy disposal, + Effendina, when the Citadel should turns its guns upon Cairo and the + Palace. She was once of thy harem. Thou didst give her in marriage, and + she came to the harem of Prince Harrik at last. A woman from without who + sang to her—a singing girl, an al’mah—she trusted with the + paper to warn thee, Effendina, in her name. Her heart had remembrance of + thee. Her foster-brother Mahommed Hassan is my servant. Him she told, and + Mahommed laid the matter before me this morning. Here is a sign by which + thee will remember her, so she said. Zaida she was called here.” He handed + over an amulet which had one red gem in the centre. + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s face had set into fierce resolution, but as he took the amulet his + eyes softened. + </p> + <p> + “Zaida. Inshallah! Zaida, she was called. She has the truth almost of the + English. She could not lie ever. My heart smote me concerning her, and I + gave her in marriage.” Then his face darkened again, and his teeth showed + in malice. A demon was roused in him. He might long ago have banished the + handsome and insinuating Harrik, but he had allowed him wealth and safety—and + now... + </p> + <p> + His intention was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “He shall die the death,” he said. “Is it not so?” he added fiercely to + David, and gazed at him fixedly. Would this man of peace plead for the + traitor, the would-be fratricide? + </p> + <p> + “He is a traitor; he must die,” answered David slowly. + </p> + <p> + Kald’s eyes showed burning satisfaction. “If he were thy brother, thou + wouldst kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “I would give a traitor to death for the country’s sake. There is no other + way.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night he shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “But with due trial, Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + “Trial—is not the proof sufficient?” + </p> + <p> + “But if he confess, and give evidence himself, and so offer himself to + die?” + </p> + <p> + “Is Harrik a fool?” answered Kaid, with scorn. + </p> + <p> + “If there be a trial and sentence is given, the truth concerning the army + must appear. Is that well? Egypt will shake to its foundations—to + the joy of its enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he shall die secretly.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prince Pasha of Egypt will be called a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “The Sultan—Europe—is it well?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell the truth,” Kaid rejoined angrily. + </p> + <p> + “If the Effendina will trust me, Prince Harrik shall confess his crime and + pay the penalty also.” + </p> + <p> + “What is thy purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to his palace and speak with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Seize him?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no power to seize him, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give it. My Nubians shall go also.” + </p> + <p> + “Effendina, I will go alone. It is the only way. There is great danger to + the throne. Who can tell what a night will bring forth?” + </p> + <p> + “If Harrik should escape—” + </p> + <p> + “If I were an Egyptian and permitted Harrik to escape, my life would pay + for my failure. If I failed, thou wouldst not succeed. If I am to serve + Egypt, there must be trust in me from thee, or it were better to pause + now. If I go, as I shall go, alone, I put my life in danger—is it + not so?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Kaid sat down again among his cushions. “Inshallah! In the name + of God, be it so. Thou art not as other men. There is something in thee + above my thinking. But I will not sleep till I see thee again.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall see thee at midnight, Effendina. Give me the ring from thy + finger.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid passed it over, and David put it in his pocket. Then he turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Take him hence. Let him serve thee if it be thy will. Yet I cannot + understand it. The play is dark. Is he not an Oriental?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a Christian.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid laughed sourly, and clapped his hands for the slave. + </p> + <p> + In a moment David and Nahoum were gone. “Nahoum, a Christian! Bismillah!” + murmured Kaid scornfully, then fell to pondering darkly over the evil + things he had heard. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Nubians in their glittering armour waited without in the + blistering square. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE JEHAD AND THE LIONS + </h2> + <p> + “Allah hu Achbar! Allah hu Achbar! Ashhadu an la illaha illalla!” The + sweetly piercing, resonant voice of the Muezzin rang far and commandingly + on the clear evening air, and from bazaar and crowded street the faithful + silently hurried to the mosques, leaving their slippers at the door, while + others knelt where the call found them, and touched their foreheads to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + In his palace by the Nile, Harrik, the half-brother of the Prince Pasha, + heard it, and breaking off from conversation with two urgent visitors, + passed to an alcove near, dropping a curtain behind him. Kneeling + reverently on the solitary furniture of the room—a prayer-rug from + Medina—he lost himself as completely in his devotions as though his + life were an even current of unforbidden acts and motives. + </p> + <p> + Cross-legged on the great divan of the room he had left, his less pious + visitors, unable to turn their thoughts from the dark business on which + they had come, smoked their cigarettes, talking to each other in tones so + low as would not have been heard by a European, and with apparent + listlessness. + </p> + <p> + Their manner would not have indicated that they were weighing matters of + life and death, of treason and infamy, of massacre and national shame. + Only the sombre, smouldering fire of their eyes was evidence of the + lighted fuse of conspiracy burning towards the magazine. One look of + surprise had been exchanged when Harrik Pasha left them suddenly—time + was short for what they meant to do; but they were Muslims, and they + resigned themselves. + </p> + <p> + “The Inglesi must be the first to go; shall a Christian dog rule over us?” + </p> + <p> + It was Achmet the Ropemaker who spoke, his yellow face wrinkling with + malice, though his voice but murmured hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum will kill him.” Higli Pasha laughed low—it was like the + gurgle of water in the narghileh—a voice of good nature and + persuasiveness from a heart that knew no virtue. “Bismillah! Who shall + read the meaning of it? Why has he not already killed?” + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum would choose his own time—after he has saved his life by the + white carrion. Kaid will give him his life if the Inglesi asks. The + Inglesi, he is mad. If he were not mad, he would see to it that Nahoum was + now drying his bones in the sands.” + </p> + <p> + “What each has failed to do for the other shall be done for them,” + answered Achmet, a hateful leer on his immobile features. “To-night many + things shall be made right. To-morrow there will be places empty and + places filled. Egypt shall begin again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Kaid?” + </p> + <p> + Achmet stopped smoking for a moment. “When the khamsin comes, when the + camels stampede, and the children of the storm fall upon the caravan, can + it be foretold in what way Fate shall do her work? So but the end be the + same—malaish! We shall be content tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Now he turned and looked at his companion as though his mind had chanced + on a discovery. “To him who first brings word to a prince who inherits, + that the reigning prince is dead, belong honour and place,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then shall it be between us twain,” said High, and laid his hot palm + against the cold, snaky palm of the other. “And he to whom the honour + falls shall help the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Aiwa, but it shall be so,” answered Achmet, and then they spoke in lower + tones still, their eyes on the curtain behind which Harrik prayed. + </p> + <p> + Presently Harrik entered, impassive, yet alert, his slight, handsome + figure in sharp contrast to the men lounging in the cushions before him, + who salaamed as he came forward. The features were finely chiselled, the + forehead white and high, the lips sensuous, the eyes fanatical, the look + concentrated yet abstracted. He took a seat among the cushions, and, after + a moment, said to Achmet, in a voice abnormally deep and powerful: “Diaz—there + is no doubt of Diaz?” + </p> + <p> + “He awaits the signal. The hawk flies not swifter than Diaz will act.” + </p> + <p> + “The people—the bazaars—the markets?” + </p> + <p> + “As the air stirs a moment before the hurricane comes, so the whisper has + stirred them. From one lip to another, from one street to another, from + one quarter to another, the word has been passed—‘Nahoum was a + Christian, but Nahoum was an Egyptian whose heart was Muslim. The stranger + is a Christian and an Inglesi. Reason has fled from the Prince Pasha, the + Inglesi has bewitched him. But the hour of deliverance draweth nigh. Be + ready! To-night!’ So has the whisper gone.” + </p> + <p> + Harrik’s eyes burned. “God is great,” he said. “The time has come. The + Christians spoil us. From France, from England, from Austria—it is + enough. Kaid has handed us over to the Greek usurers, the Inglesi and the + Frank are everywhere. And now this new-comer who would rule Kaid, and lay + his hand upon Egypt like Joseph of old, and bring back Nahoum, to the + shame of every Muslim—behold, the spark is to the tinder, it shall + burn.” + </p> + <p> + “And the hour, Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + “At midnight. The guns to be trained on the Citadel, the Palace + surrounded. Kaid’s Nubians?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred will be there, Effendina, the rest a mile away at their + barracks.” Achmet rubbed his cold palms together in satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “And Prince Kaid, Effendina?” asked Higli cautiously. + </p> + <p> + The fanatical eyes turned away. “The question is foolish—have ye no + brains?” he said impatiently. + </p> + <p> + A look of malignant triumph flashed from Achmet to High, and he said, + scarce above a whisper: “May thy footsteps be as the wings of the eagle, + Effendina. The heart of the pomegranate is not redder than our hearts are + red for thee. Cut deep into our hearts, and thou shalt find the last beat + is for thee—and for the Jehad!” + </p> + <p> + “The Jehad—ay, the Jehad! The time is at hand,” answered Harrik, + glowering at the two. “The sword shall not be sheathed till we have + redeemed Egypt. Go your ways, effendis, and peace be on you and on all the + righteous worshippers of God!” + </p> + <p> + As High and Achmet left the palace, the voice of a holy man—admitted + everywhere and treated with reverence—chanting the Koran, came + somnolently through the court-yard: “Bismillah hirrahmah, nirraheem. + Elhamdu lillahi sabbila!” + </p> + <p> + Rocking his body backwards and forwards and dwelling sonorously on each + vowel, the holy man seemed the incarnation of Muslim piety; but as the two + conspirators passed him with scarce a glance, and made their way to a + small gate leading into the great garden bordering on the Nile, his eyes + watched them sharply. When they had passed through, he turned towards the + windows of the harem, still chanting. For a long time he chanted. An + occasional servant came and went, but his voice ceased not, and he kept + his eyes fixed ever on the harem windows. + </p> + <p> + At last his watching had its reward. Something fluttered from a window to + the ground. Still chanting, he rose and began walking round the great + court-yard. Twice he went round, still chanting, but the third time he + stooped to pick up a little strip of linen which had fallen from the + window, and concealed it in his sleeve. Presently he seated himself again, + and, still chanting, spread out the linen in his palm and read the + characters upon it. For an instant there was a jerkiness to the voice, and + then it droned on resonantly again. Now the eyes of the holy man were + fixed on the great gates through which strangers entered, and he was + seated in the way which any one must take who came to the palace doors. + </p> + <p> + It was almost dark, when he saw the bowab, after repeated knocking, + sleepily and grudgingly open the gates to admit a visitor. There seemed to + be a moment’s hesitation on the bowab’s part, but he was presently assured + by something the visitor showed him, and the latter made his way + deliberately to the palace doors. As the visitor neared the holy man, who + chanted on monotonously, he was suddenly startled to hear between the + long-drawn syllables the quick words in Arabic: + </p> + <p> + “Beware, Saadat! See, I am Mahommed Hassan, thy servant! At midnight they + surround Kaid’s palace—Achmet and Higli—and kill the Prince + Pasha. Return, Saadat. Harrik will kill thee.” + </p> + <p> + David made no sign, but with a swift word to the faithful Mahommed Hassan, + passed on, and was presently admitted to the palace. As the doors closed + behind him, he would hear the voice of the holy man still chanting: + “Waladalleen—Ameen-Ameen! Waladalleen—Ameen!” + </p> + <p> + The voice followed him, fainter and fainter, as he passed through the + great bare corridors with the thick carpets on which the footsteps made no + sound, until it came, soft and undefined, as it were from a great + distance. Then suddenly there fell upon him a sense of the peril of his + enterprise. He had been left alone in the vast dim hall while a slave, + made obsequious by the sight of the ring of the Prince Pasha, sought his + master. As he waited he was conscious that people were moving about behind + the great screens of mooshrabieh which separated this room from others, + and that eyes were following his every motion. He had gained easy ingress + to this place; but egress was a matter of some speculation. The doors + which had closed behind him might swing one way only! He had voluntarily + put himself in the power of a man whose fatal secret he knew. He only felt + a moment’s apprehension, however. He had been moved to come from a whisper + in his soul; and he had the sure conviction of the predestinarian that he + was not to be the victim of “The Scytheman” before his appointed time. His + mind resumed its composure, and he watchfully waited the return of the + slave. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he was conscious of some one behind him, though he had heard no + one approach. He swung round and was met by the passive face of the black + slave in personal attendance on Harrik. The slave did not speak, but + motioned towards a screen at the end of the room, and moved towards it. + David followed. As they reached it, a broad panel opened, and they passed + through, between a line of black slaves. Then there was a sudden darkness, + and a moment later David was ushered into a room blazing with light. Every + inch of the walls was hung with red curtains. No door was visible. He was + conscious of this as the panel clicked behind him, and the folds of the + red velvet caught his shoulder in falling. Now he saw sitting on a divan + on the opposite side of the room Prince Harrik. + </p> + <p> + David had never before seen him, and his imagination had fashioned a + different personality. Here was a combination of intellect, refinement, + and savagery. The red, sullen lips stamped the delicate, fanatical face + with cruelty and barbaric indulgence, while yet there was an intensity in + the eyes that showed the man was possessed of an idea which mastered him—a + root-thought. David was at once conscious of a complex personality, of a + man in whom two natures fought. He understood it. By instinct the man was + a Mahdi, by heredity he was a voluptuary, that strange commingling of the + religious and the evil found in so many criminals. In some far corner of + his nature David felt something akin. The rebellion in his own blood + against the fine instinct of his Quaker faith and upbringing made him + grasp the personality before him. Had he himself been born in these + surroundings, under these influences! The thought flashed through his mind + like lightning, even as he bowed before Harrik, who salaamed and said: + “Peace be unto thee!” and motioned him to a seat on a divan near and + facing him. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy business with me, effendi?” asked Harrik. + </p> + <p> + “I come on the business of the Prince Pasha,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + Harrik touched his fez mechanically, then his breast and lips, and a cruel + smile lurked at the corners of his mouth as he rejoined: + </p> + <p> + “The feet of them who wear the ring of their Prince wait at no man’s door. + The carpet is spread for them. They go and they come as the feet of the + doe in the desert. Who shall say, They shall not come; who shall say, They + shall not return!” + </p> + <p> + Though the words were spoken with an air of ingenuous welcome, David felt + the malignity in the last phrase, and knew that now was come the most + fateful moment of his life. In his inner being he heard the dreadful + challenge of Fate. If he failed in his purpose with this man, he would + never begin his work in Egypt. Of his life he did not think—his life + was his purpose, and the one was nothing without the other. No other man + would have undertaken so Quixotic an enterprise, none would have exposed + himself so recklessly to the dreadful accidents of circumstance. There had + been other ways to overcome this crisis, but he had rejected them for a + course fantastic and fatal when looked at in the light of ordinary reason. + A struggle between the East and the West was here to be fought out between + two wills; between an intellectual libertine steeped in Oriental guilt and + cruelty and self-indulgence, and a being selfless, human, and in an agony + of remorse for a life lost by his hand. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily David’s eyes ran round the room before he replied. How many + slaves and retainers waited behind those velvet curtains? + </p> + <p> + Harrik saw the glance and interpreted it correctly. With a look of dark + triumph he clapped his hands. As if by magic fifty black slaves appeared, + armed with daggers. They folded their arms and waited like statues. + </p> + <p> + David made no sign of discomposure, but said slowly: “Dost thou think I + did not know my danger, Eminence? Do I seem to thee such a fool? I came + alone as one would come to the tent of a Bedouin chief whose son one had + slain, and ask for food and safety. A thousand men were mine to command, + but I came alone. Is thy guest imbecile? Let them go. I have that to say + which is for Prince Harrik’s ear alone.” + </p> + <p> + An instant’s hesitation, and Harrik motioned the slaves away. “What is the + private word for my ear?” he asked presently, fingering the stem of the + narghileh. + </p> + <p> + “To do right by Egypt, the land of thy fathers and thy land; to do right + by the Prince Pasha, thy brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What is Egypt to thee? Why shouldst thou bring thine insolence here? + Couldst thou not preach in thine own bazaars beyond the sea?” + </p> + <p> + David showed no resentment. His reply was composed and quiet. “I am come + to save Egypt from the work of thy hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Dog of an unbeliever, what hast thou to do with me, or the work of my + hands?” + </p> + <p> + David held up Kaid’s ring, which had lain in his hand. “I come from the + master of Egypt—master of thee, and of thy life, and of all that is + thine.” + </p> + <p> + “What is Kaid’s message to me?” Harrik asked, with an effort at unconcern, + for David’s boldness had in it something chilling to his fierce passion + and pride. + </p> + <p> + “The word of the Effendina is to do right by Egypt, to give thyself to + justice and to peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Have done with parables. To do right by Egypt wherein, wherefore?” The + eyes glinted at David like bits of fiery steel. + </p> + <p> + “I will interpret to thee, Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “Interpret.” Harrik muttered to himself in rage. His heart was dark, he + thirsted for the life of this arrogant Inglesi. Did the fool not see his + end? Midnight was at hand! He smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “This is the interpretation, O Prince! Prince Harrik has conspired against + his brother the Prince Pasha, has treacherously seduced officers of the + army, has planned to seize Cairo, to surround the Palace and take the life + of the Prince of Egypt. For months, Prince, thee has done this: and the + end of it is that thee shall do right ere it be too late. Thee is a + traitor to thy country and thy lawful lord.” + </p> + <p> + Harrik’s face turned pale; the stem of the narghileh shook in his fingers. + All had been discovered, then! But there was a thing of dark magic here. + It was not a half-hour since he had given the word to strike at midnight, + to surround the Palace, and to seize the Prince Pasha. Achmet—Higli, + had betrayed him, then! Who other? No one else knew save Zaida, and Zaida + was in the harem. Perhaps even now his own palace was surrounded. If it + was so, then, come what might, this masterful Inglesi should pay the + price. He thought of the den of lions hard by, of the cage of tigers-the + menagerie not a thousand feet away. He could hear the distant roaring now, + and his eyes glittered. The Christian to the wild beasts! That at least + before the end. A Muslim would win heaven by sending a Christian to hell. + </p> + <p> + Achmet—Higli! No others knew. The light of a fateful fanaticism was + in his eyes. David read him as an open book, and saw the madness come upon + him. + </p> + <p> + “Neither Higli, nor Achmet, nor any of thy fellow-conspirators has + betrayed thee,” David said. “God has other voices to whisper the truth + than those who share thy crimes. I have ears, and the air is full of + voices.” + </p> + <p> + Harrik stared at him. Was this Inglesi, then, with the grey coat, buttoned + to the chin, and the broad black hat which remained on his head unlike the + custom of the English—was he one of those who saw visions and + dreamed dreams, even as himself! Had he not heard last night a voice + whisper through the dark “Harrik, Harrik, flee to the desert! The lions + are loosed upon thee!” Had he not risen with the voice still in his ears + and fled to the harem, seeking Zaida, she who had never cringed before + him, whose beauty he had conquered, but whose face turned from him when he + would lay his lips on hers? And, as he fled, had he not heard, as it were, + footsteps lightly following him—or were they going before him? + Finding Zaida, had he not told her of the voice, and had she not said: “In + the desert all men are safe—safe from themselves and safe from + others; from their own acts and from the acts of others”? Were the lions, + then, loosed upon him? Had he been betrayed? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the thought flashed into his mind that his challenger would not + have thrust himself into danger, given himself to the mouth of the Pit, if + violence were intended. There was that inside his robe, than which + lightning would not be more quick to slay. Had he not been a hunter of + repute? Had he not been in deadly peril with wild beasts, and was he not + quicker than they? This man before him was like no other he had ever met. + Did voices speak to him? Were there, then, among the Christians such holy + men as among the Muslims, who saw things before they happened, and read + the human mind? Were there sorcerers among them, as among the Arabs? + </p> + <p> + In any case his treason was known. What were to be the consequences? + Diamond-dust in his coffee? To be dropped into the Nile like a dog? To be + smothered in his sleep?—For who could be trusted among all his + slaves and retainers when it was known he was disgraced, and that the + Prince Pasha would be happier if Harrik were quiet for ever? + </p> + <p> + Mechanically he drew out his watch and looked at it. It was nine o’clock. + In three hours more would have fallen the coup. But from this man’s words + he knew that the stroke was now with the Prince Pasha. Yet, if this pale + Inglesi, this Christian sorcerer, knew the truth in a vision only, and had + not declared it to Kaid, there might still be a chance of escape. The + lions were near—it would be a joy to give a Christian to the lions + to celebrate the capture of Cairo and the throne. He listened intently to + the distant rumble of the lions. There was one cage dedicated to + vengeance. Five human beings on whom his terrible anger fell in times past + had been thrust into it alive. Two were slaves, one was an enemy, one an + invader of his harem, and one was a woman, his wife, his favourite, the + darling of his heart. When his chief eunuch accused her of a guilty love, + he had given her paramour and herself to that awful death. A stroke of the + vast paw, a smothered roar as the teeth gave into the neck of the + beautiful Fatima, and then—no more. Fanaticism had caught a note of + savage music that tuned it to its height. + </p> + <p> + “Why art thou here? For what hast thou come? Do the spirit voices give + thee that counsel?” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + “I am come to ask Prince Harrik to repair the wrong he has done. When the + Prince Pasha came to know of thy treason—” + </p> + <p> + Harrik started. “Kaid believes thy tale of treason?” he burst out. + </p> + <p> + “Prince Kaid knows the truth,” answered David quietly. “He might have + surrounded this palace with his Nubians, and had thee shot against the + palace walls. That would have meant a scandal in Egypt and in Europe. I + besought him otherwise. It may be the scandal must come, but in another + way, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That I, Harrik, must die?” Harrik’s voice seemed far away. In his own + ears it sounded strange and unusual. All at once the world seemed to be a + vast vacuum in which his brain strove for air, and all his senses were + numbed and overpowered. Distempered and vague, his soul seemed spinning in + an aching chaos. It was being overpowered by vast elements, and life and + being were atrophied in a deadly smother. The awful forces behind visible + being hung him in the middle space between consciousness and dissolution. + He heard David’s voice, at first dimly, then understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “There is no other way. Thou art a traitor. Thou wouldst have been a + fratricide. Thou wouldst have put back the clock in Egypt by a hundred + years, even to the days of the Mamelukes—a race of slaves and + murderers. God ordained that thy guilt should be known in time. Prince, + thou art guilty. It is now but a question how thou shalt pay the debt of + treason.” + </p> + <p> + In David’s calm voice was the ring of destiny. It was dispassionate, + judicial; it had neither hatred nor pity. It fell on Harrik’s ear as + though from some far height. Destiny, the controller—who could + escape it? + </p> + <p> + Had he not heard the voices in the night—“The lions are loosed upon + thee”? He did not answer David now, but murmured to himself like one in a + dream. + </p> + <p> + David saw his mood, and pursued the startled mind into the pit of + confusion. “If it become known to Europe that the army is disloyal, that + its officers are traitors like thee, what shall we find? England, France, + Turkey, will land an army of occupation. Who shall gainsay Turkey if she + chooses to bring an army here and recover control, remove thy family from + Egypt, and seize upon its lands and goods? Dost thou not see that the hand + of God has been against thee? He has spoken, and thy evil is discovered.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Still Harrik did not reply, but looked at him with dilated, + fascinated eyes. Death had hypnotised him, and against death and destiny + who could struggle? Had not a past Prince Pasha of Egypt safeguarded + himself from assassination all his life, and, in the end, had he not been + smothered in his sleep by slaves? + </p> + <p> + “There are two ways only,” David continued—“to be tried and die + publicly for thy crimes, to the shame of Egypt, its present peril, and + lasting injury; or to send a message to those who conspired with thee, + commanding them to return to their allegiance, and another to the Prince + Pasha, acknowledging thy fault, and exonerating all others. Else, how many + of thy dupes shall die! Thy choice is not life or death, but how thou + shalt die, and what thou shalt do for Egypt as thou diest. Thou didst love + Egypt, Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + David’s voice dropped low, and his last words had a suggestion which went + like an arrow to the source of all Harrik’s crimes, and that also which + redeemed him in a little. It got into his inner being. He roused himself + and spoke, but at first his speech was broken and smothered. + </p> + <p> + “Day by day I saw Egypt given over to the Christians,” he said. “The + Greek, the Italian, the Frenchman, the Englishman, everywhere they reached + out, their hands and took from us our own. They defiled our mosques; they + corrupted our life; they ravaged our trade, they stole our customers, they + crowded us from the streets where once the faithful lived alone. Such as + thou had the ear of the Prince, and such as Nahoum, also an infidel, who + favoured the infidels of Europe. And now thou hast come, the most + dangerous of them all! Day by day the Muslim has loosed his hold on Cairo, + and Alexandria, and the cities of Egypt. Street upon street knows him no + more. My heart burned within me. I conspired for Egypt’s sake. I would + have made her Muslim once again. I would have fought the Turk and the + Frank, as did Mehemet Ali; and if the infidels came, I would have turned + them back; or if they would not go, I would have destroyed them here. Such + as thou should have been stayed at the door. In my own house I would have + been master. We seek not to take up our abode in other nations and in the + cities of the infidel. Shall we give place to them on our own mastaba, in + our own court-yard—hand to them the keys of our harems? I would have + raised the Jehad if they vexed me with their envoys and their armies.” He + paused, panting. + </p> + <p> + “It would not have availed,” was David’s quiet answer. “This land may not + be as Tibet—a prison for its own people. If the door opens outward, + then must it open inward also. Egypt is the bridge between the East and + the West. Upon it the peoples of all nations pass and repass. Thy plan was + folly, thy hope madness, thy means to achieve horrible. Thy dream is done. + The army will not revolt, the Prince will not be slain. Now only remains + what thou shalt do for Egypt—” + </p> + <p> + “And thou—thou wilt be left here to lay thy will upon Egypt. Kaid’s + ear will be in thy hand—thou hast the sorcerer’s eye. I know thy + meaning. Thou wouldst have me absolve all, even Achmet, and Higli, and + Diaz, and the rest, and at thy bidding go out into the desert”—he + paused—“or into the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Not into the desert,” rejoined David firmly. “Thou wouldst not rest. + There, in the desert, thou wouldst be a Mahdi. Since thou must die, wilt + thou not order it after thine own choice? It is to die for Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this the will of Kaid?” asked Harrik, his voice thick with wonder, his + brain still dulled by the blow of Fate. + </p> + <p> + “It was not the Effendina’s will, but it hath his assent. Wilt thou write + the word to the army and also to the Prince?” + </p> + <p> + He had conquered. There was a moment’s hesitation, then Harrik picked up + paper and ink that lay near, and said: “I will write to Kaid. I will have + naught to do with the army.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be the whole, not the part,” answered David determinedly. “The + truth is known. It can serve no end to withhold the writing to the army. + Remember what I have said to thee. The disloyalty of the army must not be + known. Canst thou not act after the will of Allah, the all-powerful, the + all-just, the all-merciful?” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant’s pause, and then suddenly Harrik placed the paper in + his palm and wrote swiftly and at some length to Kaid. Laying it down, he + took another and wrote but a few words—to Achmet and Diaz. This + message said in brief, “Do not strike. It is the will of Allah. The army + shall keep faithful until the day of the Mahdi be come. I spoke before the + time. I go to the bosom of my Lord Mahomet.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the papers on the floor before David, who picked them up, read + them, and put them into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “It is well,” he said. “Egypt shall have peace. And thou, Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + “Who shall escape Fate? What I have written I have written.” + </p> + <p> + David rose and salaamed. Harrik rose also. “Thou wouldst go, having + accomplished thy will?” Harrik asked, a thought flashing to his mind + again, in keeping with his earlier purpose. Why should this man be left to + trouble Egypt? + </p> + <p> + David touched his breast. “I must bear thy words to the Palace and the + Citadel.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there not slaves for messengers?” Involuntarily Harrik turned his + eyes to the velvet curtains. No fear possessed David, but he felt the + keenness of the struggle, and prepared for the last critical moment of + fanaticism. + </p> + <p> + “It were a foolish thing to attempt my death,” he said calmly. “I have + been thy friend to urge thee to do that which saves thee from public + shame, and Egypt from peril. I came alone, because I had no fear that thou + wouldst go to thy death shaming hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou wast sure I would give myself to death?” + </p> + <p> + “Even as that I breathe. Thou wert mistaken; a madness possessed thee; but + thou, I knew, wouldst choose the way of honour. I too have had dreams—and + of Egypt. If it were for her good, I would die for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art mad. But the mad are in the hands of God, and—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Harrik stopped. There came to his ears two distant sounds—the + faint click of horses’ hoofs and that dull rumble they had heard as they + talked, a sound he loved, the roar of his lions. + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands twice, the curtains parted opposite, and a slave slid + silently forward. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! The horses! What are they? Bring me word,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The slave vanished. For a moment there was silence. The eyes of the two + men met. In the minds of both was the same thing. + </p> + <p> + “Kaid! The Nubians!” Harrik said, at last. David made no response. + </p> + <p> + The slave returned, and his voice murmured softly, as though the matter + were of no concern: “The Nubians—from the Palace.” In an instant he + was gone again. + </p> + <p> + “Kaid had not faith in thee,” Harrik said grimly. “But see, infidel though + thou art, thou trustest me, and thou shalt go thy way. Take them with + thee, yonder jackals of the desert. I will not go with them. I did not + choose to live; others chose for me; but I will die after my own choice. + Thou hast heard a voice, even as I. It is too late to flee to the desert. + Fate tricks me. ‘The lions are loosed on thee’—so the voice said to + me in the night. Hark! dost thou not hear them—the lions, Harrik’s + lions, got out of the uttermost desert?” + </p> + <p> + David could hear the distant roar, for the menagerie was even part of the + palace itself. + </p> + <p> + “Go in peace,” continued Harrik soberly and with dignity, “and when Egypt + is given to the infidel and Muslims are their slaves, remember that Harrik + would have saved it for his Lord Mahomet, the Prophet of God.” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands, and fifty slaves slid from behind the velvet + curtains. + </p> + <p> + “I have thy word by the tomb of thy mother that thou wilt take the Nubians + hence, and leave me in peace?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + David raised a hand above his head. “As I have trusted thee, trust thou + me, Harrik, son of Mahomet.” Harrik made a gesture of dismissal, and David + salaamed and turned to go. As the curtains parted for his exit, he faced + Harrik again. “Peace be to thee,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But, seated in his cushions, the haggard, fanatical face of Harrik was + turned from him, the black, flaring eyes fixed on vacancy. The curtain + dropped behind David, and through the dim rooms and corridors he passed, + the slaves gliding beside him, before him, and behind him, until they + reached the great doors. As they swung open and the cool night breeze blew + in his face, a great suspiration of relief passed from him. What he had + set out to do would be accomplished in all. Harrik would keep his word. It + was the only way. + </p> + <p> + As he emerged from the doorway some one fell at his feet, caught his + sleeve and kissed it. It was Mahommed Hassan. Behind Mahommed was a little + group of officers and a hundred stalwart Nubians. David motioned them + towards the great gates, and, without speaking, passed swiftly down the + pathway and emerged upon the road without. A moment later he was riding + towards the Citadel with Harrik’s message to Achmet. In the red-curtained + room Harrik sat alone, listening until he heard the far clatter of hoofs, + and knew that the Nubians were gone. Then the other distant sound which + had captured his ear came to him again. In his fancy it grew louder and + louder. With it came the voice that called him in the night, the voice of + a woman—of the wife he had given to the lions for a crime against + him which she did not commit, which had haunted him all the years. He had + seen her thrown to the king of them all, killed in one swift instant, and + dragged about the den by her warm white neck—this slave wife from + Albania, his adored Fatima. And when, afterwards, he came to know the + truth, and of her innocence, from the chief eunuch who with his last + breath cleared her name, a terrible anger and despair had come upon him. + Time and intrigue and conspiracy had distracted his mind, and the Jehad + became the fixed aim and end of his life. Now this was gone. Destiny had + tripped him up. Kaid and the infidel Inglesi had won. + </p> + <p> + As the one great passion went out like smoke, the woman he loved, whom he + had given to the lions, the memory of her, some haunting part of her, + possessed him, overcame him. In truth, he had heard a voice in the night, + but not the voice of a spirit. It was the voice of Zaida, who, preying + upon his superstitious mind—she knew the hallucination which + possessed him concerning her he had cast to the lions—and having + given the terrible secret to Kaid, whom she had ever loved, would still + save Harrik from the sure vengeance which must fall upon him. Her design + had worked, but not as she intended. She had put a spell of superstition + on him, and the end would be accomplished, but not by flight to the + desert. + </p> + <p> + Harrik chose the other way. He had been a hunter. + </p> + <p> + He was without fear. The voice of the woman he loved called him. It came + to him through the distant roar of the lions as clear as when, with one + cry of “Harrik!” she had fallen beneath the lion’s paw. He knew now why he + had kept the great beast until this hour, though tempted again and again + to slay him. + </p> + <p> + Like one in a dream, he drew a dagger from the cushions where he sat, and + rose to his feet. Leaving the room and passing dark groups of waiting + slaves, he travelled empty chambers and long corridors, the voices of the + lions growing nearer and nearer. He sped faster now, and presently came to + two great doors, on which he knocked thrice. The doors opened, and two + slaves held up lights for him to enter. Taking a torch from one of them, + he bade them retire, and the doors clanged behind them. + </p> + <p> + Harrik held up the torch and came nearer. In the centre of the room was a + cage in which one great lion paced to and fro in fury. It roared at him + savagely. It was his roar which had come to Harrik through the distance + and the night. He it was who had carried Fatima, the beloved, about his + cage by that neck in which Harrik had laid his face so often. + </p> + <p> + The hot flush of conflict and the long anger of the years were on him. + Since he must die, since Destiny had befooled him, left him the victim of + the avengers, he would end it here. Here, against the thing of savage hate + which had drunk of the veins and crushed the bones of his fair wife, he + would strike one blow deep and strong and shed the blood of sacrifice + before his own was shed. + </p> + <p> + He thrust the torch into the ground, and, with the dagger grasped tightly, + carefully opened the cage and stepped inside. The door clicked behind him. + The lion was silent now, and in a far corner prepared to spring, crouching + low. + </p> + <p> + “Fatima!” Harrik cried, and sprang forward as the wild beast rose at him. + He struck deep, drew forth the dagger—and was still. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. ACHMET THE ROPEMAKER STRIKES + </h2> + <p> + War! War! The chains of the conscripts clanked in the river villages; the + wailing of the women affrighted the pigeons in a thousand dovecotes on the + Nile; the dust of despair was heaped upon the heads of the old, who knew + that their young would no more return, and that the fields of dourha would + go ungathered, the water-channels go unattended, and the onion-fields be + bare. War! War! War! The strong, the broad-shouldered—Aka, Mahmoud, + Raschid, Selim, they with the bodies of Seti and the faces of Rameses, in + their blue yeleks and unsandalled feet—would go into the desert as + their forefathers did for the Shepherd Kings. But there would be no spoil + for them—no slaves with swelling breasts and lips of honey; no + straight-limbed servants of their pleasure to wait on them with caressing + fingers; no rich spoils carried back from the fields of war to the mud + hut, the earth oven, and the thatched roof; no rings of soft gold and + necklaces of amber snatched from the fingers and bosoms of the captive and + the dead. Those days were no more. No vision of loot or luxury allured + these. They saw only the yellow sand, the ever-receding oasis, the + brackish, undrinkable water, the withered and fruitless date-tree, + handfuls of dourha for their food by day, and the keen, sharp night to + chill their half-dead bodies in a half-waking sleep. And then the savage + struggle for life—with all the gain to the pashas and the beys, and + those who ruled over them; while their own wounds grew foul, and, in the + torturing noon-day heat of the white waste, Death reached out and dragged + them from the drooping lines to die. Fighting because they must fight—not + patriot love, nor understanding, nor sacrifice in their hearts. War! War! + War! War! + </p> + <p> + David had been too late to stop it. It had grown to a head with revolution + and conspiracy. For months before he came conscripts had been gathered in + the Nile country from Rosetta to Assouan, and here and there, far south, + tribes had revolted. He had come to power too late to devise another + course. One day, when this war was over, he would go alone, save for a + faithful few, to deal with these tribes and peoples upon another plane + than war; but here and now the only course was that which had been planned + by Kaid and those who counselled him. Troubled by a deep danger drawing + near, Kaid had drawn him into his tough service, half-blindly catching at + his help, with a strange, almost superstitious belief that luck and good + would come from the alliance; seeing in him a protection against wholesale + robbery and debt—were not the English masters of finance, and was + not this Englishman honest, and with a brain of fire and an eye that + pierced things? + </p> + <p> + David had accepted the inevitable. The war had its value. It would draw + off to the south—he would see that it was so—Achmet and Higli + and Diaz and the rest, who were ever a danger. Not to himself: he did not + think of that; but to Kaid and to Egypt. They had been out-manoeuvred, + beaten, foiled, knew who had foiled them and what they had escaped; + congratulated themselves, but had no gratitude to him, and still plotted + his destruction. More than once his death had been planned, but the dark + design had come to light—now from the workers of the bazaars, whose + wires of intelligence pierced everywhere; now from some hungry fellah + whose yelek he had filled with cakes of dourha beside a bread-shop; now + from Mahommed Hassan, who was for him a thousand eyes and feet and hands, + who cooked his food, and gathered round him fellaheen or Copts or + Soudanese or Nubians whom he himself had tested and found true, and ruled + them with a hand of plenty and a rod of iron. Also, from Nahoum’s spies he + learned of plots and counterplots, chiefly on Achmet’s part; and these he + hid from Kaid, while he trusted Nahoum—and not without reason, as + yet. + </p> + <p> + The day of Nahoum’s wrath and revenge was not yet come; it was his deep + design to lay the foundation for his own dark actions strong on a rock of + apparent confidence and devotion. A long torture and a great over-whelming + was his design. He knew himself to be in the scheme of a master-workman, + and by-and-by he would blunt the chisel and bend the saw; but not yet. + Meanwhile, he hated, admired, schemed, and got a sweet taste on his tongue + from aiding David to foil Achmet—Higli and Diaz were of little + account; only the injury they felt in seeing the sluices being closed on + the stream of bribery and corruption kept them in the toils of Achmet’s + conspiracy. They had saved their heads, but they had not learned their + lesson yet; and Achmet, blinded by rage, not at all. Achmet did not + understand clemency. One by one his plots had failed, until the day came + when David advised Kaid to send him and his friends into the Soudan, with + the punitive expedition under loyal generals. It was David’s dream that, + in the field of war, a better spirit might enter into Achmet and his + friends; that patriotism might stir in them. + </p> + <p> + The day was approaching when the army must leave. Achmet threw dice once + more. + </p> + <p> + Evening was drawing down. Over the plaintive pink and golden glow of + sunset was slowly being drawn a pervasive silver veil of moonlight. A + caravan of camels hunched alone in the middle distance, making for the + western desert. Near by, village life manifested itself in heavily laden + donkeys; in wolfish curs stealing away with refuse into the waste; in + women, upright and modest, bearing jars of water on their heads; in + evening fires, where the cover of the pot clattered over the boiling mass + within; in the voice of the Muezzin calling to prayer. + </p> + <p> + Returning from Alexandria to Cairo in the special train which Kaid had + sent for him, David watched the scene with grave and friendly interest. + There was far, to go before those mud huts of the thousand years would + give place to rational modern homes; and as he saw a solitary horseman + spread his sheepskin on the ground and kneel to say his evening prayer, as + Mahomet had done in his flight between Mecca and Medina, the distance + between the Egypt of his desire and the ancient Egypt that moved round him + sharply impressed his mind, and the magnitude of his task settled heavily + on his spirit. + </p> + <p> + “But it is the beginning—the beginning,” he said aloud to himself, + looking out upon the green expanses of dourha and Lucerne, and eyeing + lovingly the cotton-fields here and there, the origin of the industrial + movement he foresaw—“and some one had to begin. The rest is as it + must be—” + </p> + <p> + There was a touch of Oriental philosophy in his mind—was it not + Galilee and the Nazarene, that Oriental source from which Mahomet also + drew? But he added to the “as it must be” the words, “and as God wills.” + He was alone in the compartment with Lacey, whose natural garrulity had + had a severe discipline in the months that had passed since he had asked + to be allowed to black David’s boots. He could now sit for an hour silent, + talking to himself, carrying on unheard conversations. Seeing David’s + mood, he had not spoken twice on this journey, but had made notes in a + little “Book of Experience,”—as once he had done in Mexico. At last, + however, he raised his head, and looked eagerly out of the window as David + did, and sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “The Nile again,” he said, and smiled. The attraction of the Nile was upon + him, as it grows on every one who lives in Egypt. The Nile and Egypt—Egypt + and the Nile—its mystery, its greatness, its benevolence, its + life-giving power, without which Egypt is as the Sahara, it conquers the + mind of every man at last. + </p> + <p> + “The Nile, yes,” rejoined David, and smiled also. “We shall cross it + presently.” + </p> + <p> + Again they relapsed into silence, broken only by the clang, clang of the + metal on the rails, and then presently another, more hollow sound—the + engine was upon the bridge. Lacey got up and put his head out of the + window. Suddenly there was a cry of fear and horror over his head, a + warning voice shrieking: + </p> + <p> + “The bridge is open—we are lost. Effendi—master—Allah!” + It was the voice of Mahommed Hassan, who had been perched on the roof of + the car. + </p> + <p> + Like lightning Lacey realised the danger, and saw the only way of escape. + He swung open the door, even as the engine touched the edge of the abyss + and shrieked its complaint under the hand of the terror-stricken driver, + caught David’s shoulder, and cried: “Jump-jump into the river—quick!” + </p> + <p> + As the engine toppled, David jumped—there was no time to think, + obedience was the only way. After him sprang, far down into the grey-blue + water, Lacey and Mahommed. When they came again to the surface, the little + train with its handful of human freight had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Two people had seen the train plunge to destruction—the solitary + horseman whom David had watched kneel upon his sheepskin, and who now from + a far hill had seen the disaster, but had not seen the three jump for + their lives, and a fisherman on the bank, who ran shouting towards a + village standing back from the river. + </p> + <p> + As the fisherman sped shrieking and beckoning to the villagers, David, + Lacey, and Mahommed fought for their lives in the swift current, swimming + at an angle upstream towards the shore; for, as Mahommed warned them, + there were rocks below. Lacey was a good swimmer, but he was heavy, and + David was a better, but Mahommed had proved his merit in the past on many + an occasion when the laws of the river were reaching out strong hands for + him. Now, as Mahommed swam, he kept moaning to himself, cursing his father + and his father’s son, as though he himself were to blame for the crime + which had been committed. Here was a plot, and he had discovered more + plots than one against his master. The bridge-opener—when he found + him he would take him into the desert and flay him alive; and find him he + would. His watchful eyes were on the hut by the bridge where this man + should be. No one was visible. He cursed the man and all his ancestry and + all his posterity, sleeping and waking, until the day when he, Mahommed, + would pinch his flesh with red hot irons. But now he had other and nearer + things to occupy him, for in the fierce struggle towards the shore Lacey + found himself failing, and falling down the stream. Presently both + Mahommed and David were beside him, Lacey angrily protesting to David that + he must save himself. + </p> + <p> + “Say, think of Egypt and all the rest. You’ve got to save yourself—let + me splash along!” he spluttered, breathing hard, his shoulders low in the + water, his mouth almost submerged. + </p> + <p> + But David and Mahommed fought along beside him, each determined that it + must be all or none; and presently the terror-stricken fisherman who had + roused the village, still shrieking deliriously, came upon them in a + flat-bottomed boat manned by four stalwart fellaheen, and the tragedy of + the bridge was over. But not the tragedy of Achmet the Ropemaker. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. BEYOND THE PALE + </h2> + <p> + Mahommed Hassan had vowed a vow in the river, and he kept it in so far as + was seemly. His soul hungered for the face of the bridge-opener, and the + hunger grew. He was scarce passed from the shivering Nile into a dry + yelek, had hardly taken a juicy piece from the cooking-pot at the house of + the village sheikh, before he began to cultivate friends who could help + him, including the sheikh himself; for what money Mahommed lacked was + supplied by Lacey, who had a reasoned confidence in him, and by the + fiercely indignant Kaid himself, to whom Lacey and Mahommed went secretly, + hiding their purpose from David. So, there were a score of villages where + every sheikh, eager for gold, listened for the whisper of the doorways, + and every slave and villager listened at the sheikh’s door. But neither to + sheikh nor to villager was it given to find the man. + </p> + <p> + But one evening there came a knocking at the door of the house which + Mahommed still kept in the lowest Muslim quarter of the town, a woman who + hid her face and was of more graceful figure than was familiar in those + dark purlieus. The door was at once opened, and Mahommed, with a cry, drew + her inside. + </p> + <p> + “Zaida—the peace of God be upon thee,” he said, and gazed lovingly + yet sadly upon her, for she had greatly changed. + </p> + <p> + “And upon thee peace, Mahommed,” she answered, and sat upon the floor, her + head upon her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast trouble at,” he said, and put some cakes of dourha and a meated + cucumber beside her. She touched the food with her fingers, but did not + eat. “Is thy grief, then, for thy prince who gave himself to the lions?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Inshallah! Harrik is in the bosom of Allah. He is with Fatima in the + fields of heaven—was I as Fatima to him? Nay, the dead have done + with hurting.” + </p> + <p> + “Since that night thou hast been lost, even since Harrik went. I searched + for thee, but thou wert hid. Surely, thou knewest mine eyes were aching + and my heart was cast down—did not thou and I feed at the same + breast?” + </p> + <p> + “I was dead, and am come forth from the grave; but I shall go again into + the dark where all shall forget, even I myself; but there is that which I + would do, which thou must do for me, even as I shall do good to thee, that + which is the desire of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, light of the morning and blessing of thy mother’s soul,” he said, + and crowded into his mouth a roll of meat and cucumber. “Against thy + feddan shall be set my date-tree; it hath been so ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen then, and by the stone of the Kaabah, keep the faith which has + been throe and mine since my mother, dying, gave me to thy mother, whose + milk gave me health and, in my youth, beauty—and, in my youth, + beauty!” Suddenly she buried her face in her veil, and her body shook with + sobs which had no voice. Presently she continued: “Listen, and by Abraham + and Christ and all the Prophets, and by Mahomet the true revealer, give me + thine aid. When Harrik gave his life to the lions, I fled to her whom I + had loved in the house of Kaid—Laka the Syrian, afterwards the wife + of Achmet Pasha. By Harrik’s death I was free—no more a slave. Once + Laka had been the joy of Achmet’s heart, but, because she had no child, + she was despised and forgotten. Was it not meet I should fly to her whose + sorrow would hide my loneliness? And so it was—I was hidden in the + harem of Achmet. But miserable tongues—may God wither them!—told + Achmet of my presence. And though I was free, and not a bondswoman, he + broke upon my sleep....” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed’s eyes blazed, his dark skin blackened like a coal, and he + muttered maledictions between his teeth. “... In the morning there was a + horror upon me, for which there is no name. But I laughed also when I took + a dagger and stole from the harem to find him in the quarters beyond the + women’s gate. I found him, but I held my hand, for one was with him who + spake with a tone of anger and of death, and I listened. Then, indeed, I + rejoiced for thee, for I have found thee a road to honour and fortune. The + man was a bridge-opener—” “Ah!—O, light of a thousand eyes, + fruit of the tree of Eden!” cried Mahommed, and fell on his knees at her + feet, and would have kissed them, but that, with a cry, she said: “Nay, + nay, touch me not. But listen.... Ay, it was Achmet who sought to drown + thy Pasha in the Nile. Thou shalt find the man in the little street called + Singat in the Moosky, at the house of Haleel the date-seller.” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed rocked backwards and forwards in his delight. “Oh, now art thou + like a lamp of Paradise, even as a star which leadeth an army of stars, + beloved,” he said. He rubbed his hands together. “Thy witness and his + shall send Achmet to a hell of scorpions, and I shall slay the + bridge-opener with my own hand—hath not the Effendina secretly said + so to me, knowing that my Pasha, the Inglesi, upon whom be peace for ever + and forever, would forgive him. Ah, thou blossom of the tree of trees—” + </p> + <p> + She rose hastily, and when he would have kissed her hand she drew back to + the wall. “Touch me not—nay, then, Mahommed, touch me not—” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not pay thee honour, thou princess among women? Hast thou + not the brain of a man, and thy beauty, like thy heart, is it not—” + </p> + <p> + She put out both her hands and spoke sharply. “Enough, my brother,” she + said. “Thou hast thy way to great honour. Thou shalt yet have a thousand + feddans of well-watered land and slaves to wait upon thee. Get thee to the + house of Haleel. There shall the blow fall on the head of Achmet, the blow + which was mine to strike, but that Allah stayed my hand that I might do + thee and thy Pasha good, and to give the soul-slayer and the body-slayer + into the hands of Kaid, upon whom be everlasting peace!” Her voice dropped + low. “Thou saidst but now that I had beauty. Is there yet any beauty in my + face?” She lowered her yashmak and looked at him with burning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Thou art altogether beautiful,” he answered, “but there is a strangeness + to thy beauty like none I have seen; as if upon the face of an angel there + fell a mist—nay, I have not words to make it plain to thee.” + </p> + <p> + With a great sigh, and yet with the tenseness gone from her eyes, she + slowly drew the veil up again till only her eyes were visible. “It is + well,” she answered. “Now, I have heard that to-morrow night Prince Kaid + will sit in the small court-yard of the blue tiles by the harem to feast + with his friends, ere the army goes into the desert at the next sunrise. + Achmet is bidden to the feast.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so, O beloved!” + </p> + <p> + “There will be dancers and singers to make the feast worthy?” + </p> + <p> + “At such a time it will be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this thou shalt do. See to it that I shall be among the singers, and + when all have danced and sung, that I shall sing, and be brought before + Kaid.” + </p> + <p> + “Inshallah! It shall be so. Thou dost desire to see Kaid—in truth, + thou hast memory, beloved.” + </p> + <p> + She made a gesture of despair. “Go upon thy business. Dost thou not desire + the blood of Achmet and the bridge-opener?” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed laughed, and joyfully beat his breast, with whispered + exclamations, and made ready to go. “And thou?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not welcome here?” she replied wearily. “O, my sister, thou art the + master of my life and all that I have,” he exclaimed, and a moment + afterwards he was speeding towards Kaid’s Palace. + </p> + <p> + For the first time since the day of his banishment Achmet the Ropemaker + was invited to Kaid’s Palace. Coming, he was received with careless + consideration by the Prince. Behind his long, harsh face and sullen eyes a + devil was raging, because of all his plans that had gone awry, and because + the man he had sought to kill still served the Effendina, putting a blight + upon Egypt. To-morrow he, Achmet, must go into the desert with the army, + and this hated Inglesi would remain behind to have his will with Kaid. The + one drop of comfort in his cup was the fact that the displeasure of the + Effendina against himself was removed, and that he had, therefore, his + foot once more inside the Palace. When he came back from the war he would + win his way to power again. Meanwhile, he cursed the man who had eluded + the death he had prepared for him. With his own eyes had he not seen, from + the hill top, the train plunge to destruction, and had he not once more + got off his horse and knelt upon his sheepskin and given thanks to Allah—a + devout Arab obeying the sunset call to prayer, as David had observed from + the train? + </p> + <p> + One by one, two by two, group by group, the unveiled dancers came and + went; the singers sang behind the screen provided for them, so that none + might see their faces, after the custom. At last, however, Kaid and his + guests grew listless, and smoked and talked idly. Yet there was in the + eyes of Kaid a watchfulness unseen by any save a fellah who squatted in a + corner eating sweetmeats, and a hidden singer waiting until she should be + called before the Prince Pasha. The singer’s glances continually flashed + between Kaid and Achmet. At last, with gleaming eyes, she saw six Nubian + slaves steal silently behind Achmet. One, also, of great strength, came + suddenly and stood before him. In his hands was a leathern thong. + </p> + <p> + Achmet saw, felt the presence of the slaves behind him, and shrank back + numbed and appalled. A mist came before his eyes; the voice he heard + summoning him to stand up seemed to come from infinite distances. The hand + of doom had fallen like a thunderbolt. The leathern thong in the hands of + the slave was the token of instant death. There was no chance of escape. + The Nubians had him at their mercy. As his brain struggled to regain its + understanding, he saw, as in a dream, David enter the court-yard and come + towards Kaid. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly David stopped in amazement, seeing Achmet. Inquiringly he looked + at Kaid, who spoke earnestly to him in a low tone. Whereupon David turned + his head away, but after a moment fixed his eyes on Achmet. + </p> + <p> + Kaid motioned all his startled guests to come nearer. Then in strong, + unmerciful voice he laid Achmet’s crime before them, and told the story of + the bridge-opener, who had that day expiated his crime in the desert by + the hands of Mahommed—but not with torture, as Mahommed had hoped + might be. + </p> + <p> + “What shall be his punishment—so foul, so wolfish?” Kaid asked of + them all. A dozen voices answered, some one terrible thing, some another. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” moaned Achmet aghast. “Mercy, Saadat!” he cried to David. + </p> + <p> + David looked at him calmly. There was little mercy in his eyes as he + answered: “Thy crimes sent to their death in the Nile those who never + injured thee. Dost thou quarrel with justice? Compose thy soul, and I pray + only the Effendina to give thee that seemly death thou didst deny thy + victims.” He bowed respectfully to Kaid. + </p> + <p> + Kaid frowned. “The ways of Egypt are the ways of Egypt, and not of the + land once thine,” he answered shortly. Then, under the spell of that + influence which he had never yet been able to resist, he added to the + slaves: “Take him aside. I will think upon it. But he shall die at sunrise + ere the army goes. Shall not justice be the gift of Kaid for an example + and a warning? Take him away a little. I will decide.” + </p> + <p> + As Achmet and the slaves disappeared into a dark corner of the court-yard, + Kaid rose to his feet, and, upon the hint, his guests, murmuring praises + of his justice and his mercy and his wisdom, slowly melted from the + court-yard; but once outside they hastened to proclaim in the four + quarters of Cairo how yet again the English Pasha had picked from the Tree + of Life an apple of fortune. + </p> + <p> + The court-yard was now empty, save for the servants of the Prince, David + and Mahommed, and two officers in whom David had advised Kaid to put + trust. Presently one of these officers said: “There is another singer, and + the last. Is it the Effendina’s pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid made a gesture of assent, sat down, and took the stem of a narghileh + between his lips. For a moment there was silence, and then, out upon the + sweet, perfumed night, over which the stars hung brilliant and soft and + near, a voice at first quietly, then fully, and palpitating with feeling, + poured forth an Eastern love song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Take thou thy flight, O soul! Thou hast no more + The gladness of the morning! Ah, the perfumed roses + My love laid on my bosom as I slept! + How did he wake me with his lips upon mine eyes, + How did the singers carol—the singers of my soul + That nest among the thoughts of my beloved!... + All silent now, the choruses are gone, + The windows of my soul are closed; no more + Mine eyes look gladly out to see my lover come. + There is no more to do, no more to say: + Take flight, my soul, my love returns no more!” + </pre> + <p> + At the first note Kaid started, and his eyes fastened upon the screen + behind which sat the singer. Then, as the voice, in sweet anguish, filled + the court-yard, entrancing them all, rose higher and higher, fell and died + away, he got to his feet, and called out hoarsely: “Come—come + forth!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly a graceful, veiled figure came from behind the great screen. He + took a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Zaida! Zaida!” he said gently, amazedly. + </p> + <p> + She salaamed low. “Forgive me, O my lord!” she said, in a whispering + voice, drawing her veil about her head. “It was my soul’s desire to look + upon thy face once more.” + </p> + <p> + “Whither didst thou go at Harrik’s death? I sent to find thee, and give + thee safety; but thou wert gone, none knew where.” + </p> + <p> + “O my lord, what was I but a mote in thy sun, that thou shouldst seek me?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s eyes fell, and he murmured to himself a moment, then he said + slowly: “Thou didst save Egypt, thou and my friend”—he gestured + towards David”—and my life also, and all else that is worth. + Therefore bounty, and safety, and all thy desires were thy due. Kaid is no + ingrate—no, by the hand of Moses that smote at Sinai!” + </p> + <p> + She made a pathetic motion of her hands. “By Harrik’s death I am free, a + slave no longer. O my lord, where I go bounty and famine are the same.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid took a step forward. “Let me see thy face,” he said, something + strange in her tone moving him with awe. + </p> + <p> + She lowered her veil and looked him in the eyes. Her wan beauty smote him, + conquered him, the exquisite pain in her face filled Kaid’s eyes with + foreboding, and pierced his heart. + </p> + <p> + “O cursed day that saw thee leave these walls! I did it for thy good—thou + wert so young; thy life was all before thee! But now—come, Zaida, + here in Kaid’s Palace thou shalt have a home, and be at peace, for I see + that thou hast suffered. Surely it shall be said that Kaid honours thee.” + He reached out to take her hand. + </p> + <p> + She had listened like one in a dream, but, as he was about to touch her, + she suddenly drew back, veiled her face, save for the eyes, and said in a + voice of agony: “Unclean, unclean! My lord, I am a leper!” + </p> + <p> + An awed and awful silence fell upon them all. Kaid drew back as though + smitten by a blow. + </p> + <p> + Presently, upon the silence, her voice sharp with agony said: “I am a + leper, and I go to that desert place which my lord has set apart for + lepers, where, dead to the world, I shall watch the dreadful years come + and go. Behold, I would die, but that I have a sister there these many + years, and her sick soul lives in loneliness. O my lord, forgive me! Here + was I happy; here of old I did sing to thee, and I came to sing to thee + once more a death-song. Also, I came to see thee do justice, ere I went + from thy face for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s head was lowered on his breast. He shuddered. “Thou art so + beautiful—thy voice, all! Thou wouldst see justice—speak! + Justice shall be made plain before thee.” + </p> + <p> + Twice she essayed to speak, and could not; but from his sweetmeats and the + shadows Mahommed crept forward, kissed the ground before Kaid, and said: + “Effendina, thou knowest me as the servant of thy high servant, Claridge + Pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “I know thee—proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Behold, she whom God has smitten, man smote first. I am her + foster-brother—from the same breast we drew the food of life. Thou + wouldst do justice, O Effendina; but canst thou do double justice—ay, + a thousandfold? Then”—his voice raised almost shrilly—“then do + it upon Achmet Pasha. She—Zaida—told me where I should find + the bridge-opener.” + </p> + <p> + “Zaida once more!” Kaid murmured. + </p> + <p> + “She had learned all in Achmet’s harem—hearing speech between Achmet + and the man whom thou didst deliver to my hands yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Zaida-in Achmet’s harem?” Kaid turned upon her. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly she told her dreadful tale, how, after Achmet had murdered all of + her except her body, she rose up to kill herself; but fainting, fell upon + a burning brazier, and her hand thrust accidentally in the live coals felt + no pain. “And behold, O my lord, I knew I was a leper; and I remembered my + sister and lived on.” So she ended, in a voice numbed and tuneless. + </p> + <p> + Kaid trembled with rage, and he cried in a loud voice: “Bring Achmet + forth.” + </p> + <p> + As the slave sped upon the errand, David laid a hand on Kaid’s arm, and + whispered to him earnestly. Kaid’s savage frown cleared away, and his rage + calmed down; but an inflexible look came into his face, a look which + petrified the ruined Achmet as he salaamed before him. + </p> + <p> + “Know thy punishment, son of a dog with a dog’s heart, and prepare for a + daily death,” said Kaid. “This woman thou didst so foully wrong, even when + thou didst wrong her, she was a leper.” + </p> + <p> + A low cry broke from Achmet, for now when death came he must go unclean to + the after-world, forbidden Allah’s presence. Broken and abject he + listened. + </p> + <p> + “She knew not, till thou wert gone,” continued Kaid. “She is innocent + before the law. But thou—beast of the slime—hear thy sentence. + There is in the far desert a place where lepers live. There, once a year, + one caravan comes, and, at the outskirts of the place unclean, leaves food + and needful things for another year, and returns again to Egypt after many + days. From that place there is no escape—the desert is as the sea, + and upon that sea there is no ghiassa to sail to a farther shore. It is + the leper land. Thither thou shalt go to wait upon this woman thou hast + savagely wronged, and upon her kind, till thou diest. It shall be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! Mercy!” Achmet cried, horror-stricken, and turned to David. “Thou + art merciful. Speak for me, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “When didst thou have mercy?” asked David. “Thy crimes are against + humanity.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid made a motion, and, with dragging feet, Achmet passed from the haunts + of familiar faces. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Kaid stood and looked at Zaida, rigid and stricken in that + awful isolation which is the leper’s doom. Her eyes were closed, but her + head was high. “Wilt thou not die?” Kaid asked her gently. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head slowly, and her hands folded on her breast. “My sister + is there,” she said at last. There was an instant’s stillness, then Kaid + added with a voice of grief: “Peace be upon thee, Zaida. Life is but a + spark. If death comes not to-day, it will tomorrow, for thee—for me. + Inshallah, peace be upon thee!” + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes and looked at him. Seeing what was in his face, they + lighted with a great light for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “And upon thee peace, O my lord, for ever and for ever!” she said softly, + and, turning, left the court-yard, followed at a distance by Mahommed + Hassan. + </p> + <p> + Kaid remained motionless looking after her. + </p> + <p> + David broke in on his abstraction. “The army at sunrise—thou wilt + speak to it, Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid roused himself. “What shall I say?” he asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Tell them they shall be clothed and fed, and to every man or his family + three hundred piastres at the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will do this?” asked Kaid incredulously. “Thou, Effendina—Egypt + and thou and I.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” answered Kaid. + </p> + <p> + As they left the court-yard, he said suddenly to an officer behind him: + </p> + <p> + “The caravan to the Place of Lepers—add to the stores fifty + camel-loads this year, and each year hereafter. Have heed to it. Ere it + starts, come to me. I would see all with mine own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. SOOLSBY’S HAND UPON THE CURTAIN + </h2> + <p> + Faith raised her eyes from the paper before her and poised her head + meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “How long is it, friend, since—” + </p> + <p> + “Since he went to Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, since thee—” + </p> + <p> + “Since I went to Mass?” he grumbled humorously. + </p> + <p> + She laughed whimsically. “Nay, then, since thee made the promise—” + </p> + <p> + “That I would drink no more till his return—ay, that was my bargain; + till then and no longer! I am not to be held back then, unless I change my + mind when I see him. Well, ‘tis three years since—” + </p> + <p> + “Three years! Time hasn’t flown. Is it not like an old memory, his living + here in this house, Soolsby, and all that happened then?” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby looked at her over his glasses, resting his chin on the back of + the chair he was caning, and his lips worked in and out with a suppressed + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Time’s got naught to do with you. He’s afeard of you,” he continued. “He + lets you be.” + </p> + <p> + “Friend, thee knows I am almost an old woman now.” She made marks + abstractedly upon the corner of a piece of paper. “Unless my hair turns + grey presently I must bleach it, for ‘twill seem improper it should remain + so brown.” + </p> + <p> + She smoothed it back with her hand. Try as she would to keep it trim after + the manner of her people, it still waved loosely on her forehead and over + her ears. And the grey bonnet she wore but added piquancy to its + luxuriance, gave a sweet gravity to the demure beauty of the face it + sheltered. + </p> + <p> + “I am thirty now,” she murmured, with a sigh, and went on writing. + </p> + <p> + The old man’s fingers moved quickly among the strips of cane, and, after a + silence, without raising his head, he said: “Thirty, it means naught.” + </p> + <p> + “To those without understanding,” she rejoined drily. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis tough understanding why there’s no wedding-ring on yonder finger. + There’s been many a man that’s wanted it, that’s true—the Squire’s + son from Bridgley, the lord of Axwood Manor, the long soldier from Shipley + Wood, and doctors, and such folk aplenty. There’s where understanding + fails.” + </p> + <p> + Faith’s face flushed, then it became pale, and her eyes, suffused, dropped + upon the paper before her. At first it seemed as though she must resent + his boldness; but she had made a friend of him these years past, and she + knew he meant no rudeness. In the past they had talked of things deeper + and more intimate still. Yet there was that in his words which touched a + sensitive corner of her nature. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I be marrying?” she asked presently. “There was my sister’s + son all those years. I had to care for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, older than him by a thimbleful!” he rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, till he came to live in this hut alone older by many a year. Since + then he is older than me by fifty. I had not thought of marriage before he + went away. Squire’s son, soldier, or pillman, what were they to me! He + needed me. They came, did they? Well, and if they came?” + </p> + <p> + “And since the Egyptian went?” + </p> + <p> + A sort of sob came into her throat. “He does not need me, but he may—he + will one day; and then I shall be ready. But now—” + </p> + <p> + Old Soolsby’s face turned away. His house overlooked every house in the + valley beneath: he could see nearly every garden; he could even recognise + many in the far streets. Besides, there hung along two nails on the wall a + telescope, relic of days when he sailed the main. The grounds of the + Cloistered House and the fruit-decked garden-wall of the Red Mansion were + ever within his vision. Once, twice, thrice, he had seen what he had seen, + and dark feelings, harsh emotions, had been roused in him. + </p> + <p> + “He will need us both—the Egyptian will need us both one day,” he + answered now; “you more than any, me because I can help him, too—ay, + I can help him. But married or single you could help him; so why waste + your days here?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it wasting my days to stay with my father? He is lonely, most lonely + since our Davy went away; and troubled, too, for the dangers of that life + yonder. His voice used to shake when he prayed, in those days when Davy + was away in the desert, down at Darfur and elsewhere among the rebel + tribes. He frightened me then, he was so stern and still. Ah, but that day + when we knew he was safe, I was eighteen, and no more!” she added, + smiling. “But, think you, I could marry while my life is so tied to him + and to our Egyptian?” + </p> + <p> + No one looking at her limpid, shining blue eyes but would have set her + down for twenty-three or twenty-four, for not a line showed on her smooth + face; she was exquisite of limb and feature, and had the lissomeness of a + girl of fifteen. There was in her eyes, however, an unquiet sadness; she + had abstracted moments when her mind seemed fixed on some vexing problem. + Such a mood suddenly came upon her now. The pen lay by the paper + untouched, her hands folded in her lap, and a long silence fell upon them, + broken only by the twanging of the strips of cane in Soolsby’s hands. At + last, however, even this sound ceased; and the two scarce moved as the sun + drew towards the middle afternoon. At last they were roused by the sound + of a horn, and, looking down, they saw a four-in-hand drawing smartly down + the road to the village over the gorse-spread common, till it stopped at + the Cloistered House. As Faith looked, her face slightly flushed. She bent + forward till she saw one figure get down and, waving a hand to the party + on the coach as it moved on, disappear into the gateway of the Cloistered + House. + </p> + <p> + “What is the office they have given him?” asked Soolsby, disapproval in + his tone, his eyes fixed on the disappearing figure. + </p> + <p> + “They have made Lord Eglington Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs,” she + answered. + </p> + <p> + “And what means that to a common mind?” + </p> + <p> + “That what his Government does in Egypt will mean good or bad to our + Egyptian,” she returned. + </p> + <p> + “That he can do our man good or ill?” Soolsby asked sharply—“that + he, yonder, can do that?” + </p> + <p> + She inclined her head. + </p> + <p> + “When I see him doing ill—well, when I see him doing that”—he + snatched up a piece of wood from the floor—“then I will break him, + so!” + </p> + <p> + He snapped the stick across his knee, and threw the pieces on the ground. + He was excited. He got to his feet and walked up and down the little room, + his lips shut tight, his round eyes flaring. + </p> + <p> + Faith watched him in astonishment. In the past she had seen his face cloud + over, his eyes grow sulky, at the mention of Lord Eglington’s name; she + knew that Soolsby hated him; but his aversion now was more definite and + violent than he had before shown, save on that night long ago when David + went first to Egypt, and she had heard hard words between them in this + same hut. She supposed it one of those antipathies which often grow in + inverse ratio to the social position of those concerned. She replied in a + soothing voice: + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall hope that he will do our Davy only good.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not wish me to break his lordship? You would not wish it?” He + came over to her, and looked sharply at her. “You would not wish it?” he + repeated meaningly. + </p> + <p> + She evaded his question. “Lord Eglington will be a great man one day + perhaps,” she answered. “He has made his way quickly. How high he has + climbed in three years—how high!” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby’s anger was not lessened. “Pooh! Pooh! He is an Earl. An Earl has + all with him at the start—name, place, and all. But look at our + Egyptian! Look at Egyptian David—what had he but his head and an + honest mind? What is he? He is the great man of Egypt. Tell me, who helped + Egyptian David? That second-best lordship yonder, he crept about coaxing + this one and wheedling that. I know him—I know him. He wheedles and + wheedles. No matter whether ‘tis a babe or an old woman, he’ll talk, and + talk, and talk, till they believe in him, poor folks! No one’s too small + for his net. There’s Martha Higham yonder. She’s forty five. If he sees + her, as sure as eggs he’ll make love to her, and fill her ears with words + she’d never heard before, and ‘d never hear at all if not from him. Ay, + there’s no man too sour and no woman too old that he’ll not blandish, if + he gets the chance.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Faith shut her eyes, and her fingers clasped tightly together—beautiful + long, tapering fingers, like those in Romney’s pictures. When he stopped, + her eyes opened slowly, and she gazed before her down towards that garden + by the Red Mansion where her lifetime had been spent. + </p> + <p> + “Thee says hard words, Soolsby,” she rejoined gently. “But maybe thee is + right.” Then a flash of humour passed over her face. “Suppose we ask + Martha Higham if the Earl has ‘blandished’ her. If the Earl has blandished + Martha, he is the very captain of deceit. Why, he has himself but + twenty-eight years. Will a man speak so to one older than himself, save in + mockery? So, if thee is right in this, then—then if he speak well to + deceive and to serve his turn, he will also speak ill; and he will do ill + when it may serve his turn; and so he may do our Davy ill, as thee says, + Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and made as if to go, but she kept her face from him. + Presently, however, she turned and looked at him. “If he does ill to Davy, + there will be those like thee, Soolsby, who will not spare him.” + </p> + <p> + His fingers opened and shut maliciously, he nodded dour assent. After an + instant, while he watched her, she added: “Thee has not heard my lord is + to marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Marry—who is the blind lass?” + </p> + <p> + “Her name is Maryon, Miss Hylda Maryon: and she has a great fortune. But + within a month it is to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee remembers the woman of the cross-roads, her that our Davy—” + </p> + <p> + “Her the Egyptian kissed, and put his watch in her belt—ay, Kate + Heaver!” + </p> + <p> + “She is now maid to her Lord Eglington will wed. She is to spend to-night + with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is her lad that was, that the Egyptian rolled like dough in a + trough?” + </p> + <p> + “Jasper Kimber? He is at Sheffield. He has been up and down, now sober for + a year, now drunken for a month, now in, now out of a place, until this + past year. But for this whole year he has been sober, and he may keep his + pledge. He is working in the trades-unions. Among his fellow-workers he is + called a politician—if loud speaking and boasting can make one. Yet + if these doings give him stimulant instead of drink, who shall complain?” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby’s head was down. He was looking out over the far hills, while the + strips of cane were idle in his hands. “Ay, ‘tis true—‘tis true,” he + nodded. “Give a man an idee which keeps him cogitating, makes him think + he’s greater than he is, and sets his pulses beating, why, that’s the cure + to drink. Drink is friendship and good company and big thoughts while it + lasts; and it’s lonely without it, if you’ve been used to it. Ay, but + Kimber’s way is best. Get an idee in your noddle, to do a thing that’s + more to you than work or food or bed, and ‘twill be more than drink, too.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded to himself, then began weaving the strips of cane furiously. + Presently he stopped again, and threw his head back with a chuckle. “Now, + wouldn’t it be a joke, a reg’lar first-class joke, if Kimber and me both + had the same idee, if we was both workin’ for the same thing—an’ + didn’t know it? I reckon it might be so.” + </p> + <p> + “What end is thee working for, friend? If the public prints speak true, + Kimber is working to stand for Parliament against Lord Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby grunted and laughed in his throat. “Now, is that the game of + Mister Kimber? Against my Lord Eglington! Hey, but that’s a joke, my + lord!” + </p> + <p> + “And what is thee working for, Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I be working for? To get the Egyptian back to England—what + else?” + </p> + <p> + “That is no joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but ‘tis a joke.” The old man chuckled. “‘Tis the best joke in the + boilin’.” He shook his head and moved his body backwards and forwards with + glee. “Me and Kimber! Me and Kimber!” he roared, “and neither of us drunk + for a year—not drunk for a whole year. Me and Kimber—and him!” + </p> + <p> + Faith put her hand on his shoulder. “Indeed, I see no joke, but only that + which makes my heart thankful, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you will be thankful, you will be thankful, by-and-by,” he said, + still chuckling, and stood up respectfully to show her out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE DEBT AND THE ACCOUNTING + </h2> + <p> + His forehead frowning, but his eyes full of friendliness, Soolsby watched + Faith go down the hillside and until she reached the main road. Here, + instead of going to the Red Mansion, she hesitated a moment, and then + passed along a wooded path leading to the Meetinghouse, and the graveyard. + It was a perfect day of early summer, the gorse was in full bloom, and the + may and the hawthorn were alive with colour. The path she had taken led + through a narrow lane, overhung with blossoms and greenery. By bearing + away to the left into another path, and making a detour, she could reach + the Meeting-house through a narrow lane leading past a now disused mill + and a small, strong stream flowing from the hill above. + </p> + <p> + As she came down the hill, other eyes than Soolsby’s watched her. From his + laboratory—the laboratory in which his father had worked, in which + he had lost his life—Eglington had seen the trim, graceful figure. + He watched it till it moved into the wooded path. Then he left his garden, + and, moving across a field, came into the path ahead of her. Walking + swiftly, he reached the old mill, and waited. + </p> + <p> + She came slowly, now and again stooping to pick a flower and place it in + her belt. Her bonnet was slung on her arm, her hair had broken a little + loose and made a sort of hood round the face, so still, so composed, into + which the light of steady, soft, apprehending eyes threw a gentle + radiance. It was a face to haunt a man when the storm of life was round + him. It had, too, a courage which might easily become a delicate + stubbornness, a sense of duty which might become sternness, if roused by a + sense of wrong to herself or others. + </p> + <p> + She reached the mill and stood and listened towards the stream and the + waterfall. She came here often. The scene quieted her in moods of + restlessness which came from a feeling that her mission was interrupted, + that half her life’s work had been suddenly taken from her. When David + went, her life had seemed to shrivel; for with him she had developed as he + had developed; and when her busy care of him was withdrawn, she had felt a + sort of paralysis which, in a sense, had never left her. Then suitors had + come—the soldier from Shipley Wood, the lord of Axwood Manor, and + others, and, in a way, a new sense was born in her, though she was alive + to the fact that the fifteen thousand pounds inherited from her Uncle Benn + had served to warm the air about her into a wider circle. Yet it was + neither to soldier, nor squire, nor civil engineer, nor surgeon that the + new sense stirring in her was due. The spring was too far beneath to be + found by them. + </p> + <p> + When, at last, she raised her head, Lord Eglington was in the path, + looking at her with a half-smile. She did not start, but her face turned + white, and a mist came before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Quickly, however, as though fearful lest he should think he could trouble + her composure, she laid a hand upon herself. + </p> + <p> + He came near to her and held out his hand. “It has been a long six months + since we met here,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She made no motion to take his hand. “I find days grow shorter as I grow + older,” she rejoined steadily, and smoothed her hair with her hand, making + ready to put on her bonnet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do not put it on,” he urged quickly, with a gesture. “It becomes you + so—on your arm.” + </p> + <p> + She had regained her self-possession. Pride, the best weapon of a woman, + the best tonic, came to her resource. “Thee loves to please thee at any + cost,” she replied. She fastened the grey strings beneath her chin. + </p> + <p> + “Would it be costly to keep the bonnet on your arm?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my pleasure to have it on my head, and my pleasure has some value + to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “A moment ago,” he rejoined laughing, “it was your pleasure to have it on + your arm.” + </p> + <p> + “Are all to be monotonous except Lord Eglington? Is he to have the only + patent of change?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I change?” He smiled at her with a sense of inquisition, with an air + that seemed to say, “I have lifted the veil of this woman’s heart; I am + the master of the situation.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer to the obvious meaning of his words, but said: + </p> + <p> + “Thee has done little else but change, so far as eye can see. Thee and thy + family were once of Quaker faith, but thee is a High Churchman now. Yet + they said a year ago thee was a sceptic or an infidel.” + </p> + <p> + “There is force in what you say,” he replied. “I have an inquiring mind; I + am ever open to reason. Confucius said: ‘It is only the supremely wise or + the deeply ignorant who never alter.’” + </p> + <p> + “Thee has changed politics. Thee made a ‘sensation, but that was not + enough. Thee that was a rebel became a deserter.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Ah, I was open to conviction! I took my life in my hands, + defied consequences.” He laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “It brought office.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs,” he murmured complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Change is a policy with thee, I think. It has paid thee well, so it would + seem.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a fair rate of interest for the capital invested and the risks I’ve + taken,” he answered with an amused look. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think that interest will increase. Thee has climbed quickly, but + fast climbing is not always safe climbing.” + </p> + <p> + His mood changed. His voice quickened, his face lowered. “You think I will + fail? You wish me to fail?” + </p> + <p> + “In so far as thee acts uprightly, I wish thee well. But if, out of + office, thee disregards justice and conscience and the rights of others, + can thee be just and faithful in office? Subtlety will not always avail. + The strong man takes the straight course. Subtlety is not intellect.” + </p> + <p> + He flushed. She had gone to the weakest point in his defences. His vanity + was being hurt. She had an advantage now. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” he protested. “You do not understand public life, here in + a silly Quaker village.” + </p> + <p> + “Does thee think that all that happens in ‘public life’ is of consequence? + That is not sensible. Thee is in the midst of a thousand immaterial + things, though they have importance for the moment. But the chief things + that matter to all, does thee not know that a ‘silly Quaker village’ may + realise them to the full—more fully because we see them apart from + the thousand little things that do not matter? I remember a thing in + political life that mattered. It was at Heddington after the massacre at + Damascus. Does thee think that we did not know thee spoke without + principle then, and only to draw notice?” + </p> + <p> + “You would make me into a demagogue,” he said irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Thee is a demagogue,” she answered candidly. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you never say all this to me long ago? Years have passed since + then, and since then you and I have—have been friends. You have—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, for she made a protesting motion, and a fire sprang into her + eyes. Her voice got colder. “Thee made me believe—ah, how many times + did we speak together? Six times it was, not more. Thee made me believe + that what I thought or said helped thee to see things better. Thee said I + saw things truly like a child, with the wisdom of a woman. Thee remembers + that?” + </p> + <p> + “It was so,” he put in hastily. + </p> + <p> + “No, not for a moment so, though I was blinded to think for an instant + that it was. Thee subtly took the one way which could have made me listen + to thee. Thee wanted help, thee said; and if a word of mine could help + thee now and then, should I withhold it, so long as I thought thee + honest?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I was not honest in wanting your friendship?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, it was not friendship thee wanted, for friendship means a giving and + a getting. Thee was bent on getting what was, indeed, of but little value + save to the giver; but thee gave nothing; thee remembered nothing of what + was given thee.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not so, it is not so,” he urged eagerly, nervously. “I gave, and I + still give.” + </p> + <p> + “In those old days, I did not understand,” she went on, “what it was thee + wanted. I know now. It was to know the heart and mind of a woman—of + a woman older than thee. So that thee should have such sort of experience, + though I was but a foolish choice of the experiment. They say thee has a + gift for chemistry like thy father; but if thee experiments no more wisely + in the laboratory than with me, thee will not reach distinction.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father hated my father and did not believe in him, I know not why, + and you are now hating and disbelieving me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know why my father held the late Earl in abhorrence; I know he + has no faith in thee; and I did ill in listening to thee, in believing for + one moment there was truth in thee. But no, no, I think I never believed + it. I think that even when thee said most, at heart I believed least.” + </p> + <p> + “You doubt that? You doubt all I said to you?” he urged softly, coming + close to her. + </p> + <p> + She drew aside slightly. She had steeled herself for this inevitable + interview, and there was no weakening of her defences; but a great sadness + came into her eyes, and spread over her face, and to this was added, after + a moment, a pity which showed the distance she was from him, the safety in + which she stood. + </p> + <p> + “I remember that the garden was beautiful, and that thee spoke as though + thee was part of the garden. Thee remembers that, at our meeting in the + Cloistered House, when the woman was ill, I had no faith in thee; but thee + spoke with grace, and turned common things round about, so that they + seemed different to the ear from any past hearing; and I listened. I did + not know, and I do not know now, why it is my duty to shun any of thy + name, and above all thyself; but it has been so commanded by my father all + my life; and though what he says may be in a little wrong, in much it must + ever be right.” + </p> + <p> + “And so, from a hatred handed down, your mind has been tuned to shun even + when your heart was learning to give me a home—Faith?” + </p> + <p> + She straightened herself. “Friend, thee will do me the courtesy to forget + to use my Christian name. I am not a child-indeed, I am well on in years”—he + smiled—“and thee has no friendship or kinship for warrant. If my + mind was tuned to shun thee, I gave proof that it was willing to take thee + at thine own worth, even against the will of my father, against the desire + of David, who knew thee better than I—he gauged thee at first + glance.” + </p> + <p> + “You have become a philosopher and a statesman,” he said ironically. “Has + your nephew, the new Joseph in Egypt, been giving you instructions in high + politics? Has he been writing the Epistles of David to the Quakers?” + </p> + <p> + “Thee will leave his name apart,” she answered with dignity. “I have + studied neither high politics nor statesmanship, though in the days when + thee did flatter me thee said I had a gift for such things. Thee did not + speak the truth. And now I will say that I do not respect thee. No matter + how high thee may climb, still I shall not respect thee; for thee will + ever gain ends by flattery, by subtlety, and by using every man and every + woman for selfish ends. Thee cannot be true-not even to that which by + nature is greatest in thee.”. + </p> + <p> + He withered under her words. + </p> + <p> + “And what is greatest in me?” he asked abruptly, his coolness and + self-possession striving to hold their own. + </p> + <p> + “That which will ruin thee in the end.” Her eyes looked beyond his into + the distance, rapt and shining; she seemed scarcely aware of his presence. + “That which will bring thee down—thy hungry spirit of discovery. It + will serve thee no better than it served the late Earl. But thee it will + lead into paths ending in a gulf of darkness.” + </p> + <p> + “Deborah!” he answered, with a rasping laugh. “Continuez! Forewarned is + forearmed.” + </p> + <p> + “No, do not think I shall be glad,” she answered, still like one in a + dream. “I shall lament it as I lament—as I lament now. All else + fades away into the end which I see for thee. Thee will live alone without + a near and true friend, and thee will die alone, never having had a true + friend. Thee will never be a true friend, thee will never love truly man + or woman, and thee will never find man or woman who will love thee truly, + or will be with thee to aid thee in the dark and falling days.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he broke in sharply, querulously, “then, I will stand alone. I + shall never come whining that I have been ill-used, to fate or fortune, to + men or to the Almighty.” + </p> + <p> + “That I believe. Pride will build up in thee a strength which will be like + water in the end. Oh, my lord,” she added, with a sudden change in her + voice and manner, “if thee could only be true—thee who never has + been true to any one!” + </p> + <p> + “Why does a woman always judge a man after her own personal experience + with him, or what she thinks is her own personal experience?” + </p> + <p> + A robin hopped upon the path before her. She watched it for a moment + intently, then lifted her head as the sound of a bell came through the + wood to her. She looked up at the sun, which was slanting towards evening. + She seemed about to speak, but with second thought, moved on slowly past + the mill and towards the Meeting-house. He stepped on beside her. She kept + her eyes fixed in front of her, as though oblivious of his presence. + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear me speak. You shall listen to what I have to say, though + it is for the last time,” he urged stubbornly. “You think ill of me. Are + you sure you are not pharisaical?” + </p> + <p> + “I am honest enough to say that which hurts me in the saying. I do not + forget that to believe thee what I think is to take all truth from what + thee said to me last year, and again this spring when the tulips first + came and there was good news from Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “I said,” he rejoined boldly, “that I was happier with you than with any + one else alive. I said that what you thought of me meant more to me than + what any one else in the world thought; and that I say now, and will + always say it.” + </p> + <p> + The old look of pity came into her face. “I am older than thee by two + years,” she answered quaintly, “and I know more of real life, though I + have lived always here. I have made the most of the little I have seen; + thee has made little of the much that thee has seen. Thee does not know + the truth concerning thee. Is it not, in truth, vanity which would have me + believe in thee? If thee was happier with me than with any one alive, why + then did thee make choice of a wife even in the days thee was speaking to + me as no man shall ever speak again? Nothing can explain so base a fact. + No, no, no, thee said to me what thee said to others, and will say again + without shame. But—but see, I will forgive; yes, I will follow thee + with good wishes, if thee will promise to help David, whom thee has ever + disliked, as, in the place held by thee, thee can do now. Will thee offer + this one proof, in spite of all else that disproves, that thee spoke any + words of truth to me in the Cloistered House, in the garden by my father’s + house, by yonder mill, and hard by the Meeting-house yonder-near to my + sister’s grave by the willow-tree? Will thee do that for me?” + </p> + <p> + He was about to reply, when there appeared in the path before them Luke + Claridge. His back was upon them, but he heard their footsteps and swung + round. As though turned to stone, he waited for them. As they approached, + his lips, dry and pale, essayed to speak, but no sound came. A fire was in + his eyes which boded no good. Amazement, horror, deadly anger, were all + there, but, after a moment, the will behind the tumult commanded it, the + wild light died away, and he stood calm and still awaiting them. Faith was + as pale as when she had met Eglington. As she came nearer, Luke Claridge + said, in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “How do I find thee in this company, Faith?” There was reproach + unutterable in his voice, in his face. He seemed humiliated and shamed, + though all the while a violent spirit in him was struggling for the + mastery. + </p> + <p> + “As I came this way to visit my sister’s grave I met my lord by the mill. + He spoke to me, and, as I wished a favour of him, I walked with him + thither—but a little way. I was going to visit my sister’s grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Thy sister’s grave!” The fire flamed up again, but the masterful will + chilled it down, and he answered: “What secret business can thee have with + any of that name which I have cast out of knowledge or notice?” + </p> + <p> + Ignorant as he was of the old man’s cause for quarrel or dislike, + Eglington felt himself aggrieved, and, therefore, with an advantage. + </p> + <p> + “You had differences with my father, sir,” he said. “I do not know what + they were, but they lasted his lifetime, and all my life you have treated + me with aversion. I am not a pestilence. I have never wronged you. I have + lived your peaceful neighbour under great provocation, for your treatment + would have done me harm if my place were less secure. I think I have cause + for complaint.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never acted in haste concerning thee, or those who went before + thee. What business had thee with him, Faith?” he asked again. His voice + was dry and hard. + </p> + <p> + Her impulse was to tell the truth, and so for ever have her conscience + clear, for there would never be any more need for secrecy. The wheel of + understanding between Eglington and herself had come full circle, and + there was an end. But to tell the truth would be to wound her father, to + vex him against Eglington even as he had never yet been vexed. Besides, it + was hard, while Eglington was there, to tell what, after all, was the sole + affair of her own life. In one literal sense, Eglington was not guilty of + deceit. Never in so many words had he said to her: “I love you;” never had + he made any promise to her or exacted one; he had done no more than lure + her to feel one thing, and then to call it another thing. Also there was + no direct and vital injury, for she had never loved him; though how far + she had travelled towards that land of light and trial she could never now + declare. These thoughts flashed through her mind as she stood looking at + her father. Her tongue seemed imprisoned, yet her soft and candid eyes + conquered the austerity in the old man’s gaze. + </p> + <p> + Eglington spoke for her. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to answer, neighbour,” he said. “I wished to speak with your + daughter, because I am to be married soon, and my wife will, at intervals, + come here to live. I wished that she should not be shunned by you and + yours as I have been. She would not understand, as I do not. Yours is a + constant call to war, while all your religion is an appeal for peace. I + wished to ask your daughter to influence you to make it possible for me + and mine to live in friendship among you. My wife will have some claims + upon you. Her mother was an American, of a Quaker family from Derbyshire. + She has done nothing to merit your aversion.” + </p> + <p> + Faith listened astonished and baffled. Nothing of this had he said to her. + Had he meant to say it to her? Had it been in his mind? Or was it only a + swift adaptation to circumstances, an adroit means of working upon the + sympathies of her father, who, she could see, was in a quandary? Eglington + had indeed touched the old man as he had not been touched in thirty years + and more by one of his name. For a moment the insinuating quality of the + appeal submerged the fixed idea in a mind to which the name of Eglington + was anathema. + </p> + <p> + Eglington saw his advantage. He had felt his way carefully, and he pursued + it quickly. “For the rest, your daughter asked what I was ready to offer—such + help as, in my new official position, I can give to Claridge Pasha in + Egypt. As a neighbour, as Minister in the Government, I will do what I can + to aid him.” + </p> + <p> + Silent and embarrassed, the old man tried to find his way. Presently he + said tentatively: “David Claridge has a title to the esteem of all + civilised people.” Eglington was quick with his reply. “If he succeeds, + his title will become a concrete fact. There is no honour the Crown would + not confer for such remarkable service.” + </p> + <p> + The other’s face darkened. “I did not speak, I did not think, of handles + to his name. I find no good in them, but only means for deceiving and + deluding the world. Such honours as might make him baronet, or duke, would + add not a cubit to his stature. If he had such a thing by right”—his + voice hardened, his eyes grew angry once again—“I would wish it sunk + into the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “You are hard on us, sir, who did not give ourselves our titles, but took + them with our birth as a matter of course. There was nothing inspiring in + them. We became at once distinguished and respectable by patent.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed good-humouredly. Then suddenly he changed, and his eyes took on + a far-off look which Faith had seen so often in the eyes of David, but in + David’s more intense and meaning, and so different. With what deftness and + diplomacy had he worked upon her father! He had crossed a stream which + seemed impassable by adroit, insincere diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + She saw that it was time to go, while yet Eglington’s disparagement of + rank and aristocracy was ringing in the old man’s ears; though she knew + there was nothing in Eglington’s equipment he valued more than his title + and the place it gave him. Grateful, however, for his successful + intervention, Faith now held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I must take my father away, or it will be sunset before we reach the + Meeting-house,” she said. “Goodbye-friend,” she added gently. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Luke Claridge stared at her, scarce comprehending that his + movements were being directed by any one save himself. Truth was, Faith + had come to her cross-roads in life. For the first time in her memory she + had seen her father speak to an Eglington without harshness; and, as he + weakened for a moment, she moved to take command of that weakness, though + she meant it to seem like leading. While loving her and David profoundly, + her father had ever been quietly imperious. If she could but gain + ascendency even in a little, it might lead to a more open book of life for + them both. + </p> + <p> + Eglington held out his hand to the old man. “I have kept you too long, + sir. Good-bye—if you will.” + </p> + <p> + The offered hand was not taken, but Faith slid hers into the old man’s + palm, and pressed it, and he said quietly to Eglington: + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, friend.” + </p> + <p> + “And when I bring my wife, sir?” Eglington added, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “When thee brings the lady, there will be occasion to consider—there + will be occasion then.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington raised his hat, and turned back upon the path he and Faith had + travelled. + </p> + <p> + The old man stood watching him until he was out of view. Then he seemed + more himself. Still holding Faith’s hand, he walked with her on the + gorse-covered hill towards the graveyard. + </p> + <p> + “Was it his heart spoke or his tongue—is there any truth in him?” he + asked at last. + </p> + <p> + Faith pressed his hand. “If he help Davy, father—” + </p> + <p> + “If he help Davy; ay, if he help Davy! Nay, I cannot go to the graveyard, + Faith. Take me home,” he said with emotion. + </p> + <p> + His hand remained in hers. She had conquered. She was set upon a new path + of influence. Her hand was upon the door of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Thee is good to me, Faith,” he said, as they entered the door of the Red + Mansion. + </p> + <p> + She glanced over towards the Cloistered House. Smoke was coming from the + little chimney of the laboratory. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. THE WOMAN OF THE CROSS-ROADS + </h2> + <p> + The night came down slowly. There was no moon, the stars were few, but a + mellow warmth was in the air. At the window of her little sitting-room + up-stairs Faith sat looking out into the stillness. Beneath was the garden + with its profusion of flowers and fruit; away to the left was the common; + and beyond-far beyond—was a glow in the sky, a suffused light, of a + delicate orange, merging away into a grey-blueness, deepening into a + darker blue; and then a purple depth, palpable and heavy with a comforting + silence. + </p> + <p> + There was something alluring and suggestive in the soft, smothered + radiance. It had all the glamour of some distant place of pleasure and + quiet joy, of happiness and ethereal being. It was, in fact, the far-off + mirror of the flaming furnace of the great Heddington factories. The light + of the sky above was a soft radiance, as of a happy Arcadian land; the + fire of the toil beneath was the output of human striving, an intricate + interweaving of vital forces which, like some Titanic machine, wrought out + in pain—a vast destiny. + </p> + <p> + As Faith looked, she thought of the thousands beneath struggling and + striving, none with all desires satisfied, some in an agony of want and + penury, all straining for the elusive Enough; like Sisyphus ever rolling + the rock of labour up a hill too steep for them. + </p> + <p> + Her mind flew to the man Kimber and his task of organising labour for its + own advance. What a life-work for a man! Here might David have spent his + days, here among his own countrymen, instead of in that far-off land where + all the forces of centuries were fighting against him. Here the forces + would have been fighting for him; the trend was towards the elevation of + the standards of living and the wider rights of labour, to the + amelioration of hard conditions of life among the poor. David’s mind, with + its equity, its balance, and its fire—what might it not have + accomplished in shepherding such a cause, guiding its activity? + </p> + <p> + The gate of the garden clicked. Kate Heaver had arrived. Faith got to her + feet and left the room. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later the woman of the cross-roads was seated opposite Faith + at the window. She had changed greatly since the day David had sent her on + her way to London and into the unknown. Then there had been recklessness, + something of coarseness, in the fine face. Now it was strong and quiet, + marked by purpose and self-reliance. + </p> + <p> + Ignorance had been her only peril in the past, as it had been the cause of + her unhappy connection with Jasper Kimber. The atmosphere in which she was + raised had been unmoral; it had not been consciously immoral. Her temper + and her indignation against her man for drinking had been the means of + driving them apart. He would have married her in those days, if she had + given the word, for her will was stronger than his own; but she had broken + from him in an agony of rage and regret and despised love. + </p> + <p> + She was now, again, as she had been in those first days before she went + with Jasper Kimber; when she was the rose-red angel of the quarters; when + children were lured by the touch of her large, shapely hands; when she had + been counted a great nurse among her neighbours. The old simple untutored + sympathy was in her face. + </p> + <p> + They sat for a long time in silence, and at length Faith said: “Thee is + happy now with her who is to marry Lord Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + Kate nodded, smiling. “Who could help but be happy with her! Yet a temper, + too—so quick, and then all over in a second. Ah, she is one that’d + break her heart if she was treated bad; but I’d be sorry for him that did + it. For the like of her goes mad with hurting, and the mad cut with a big + scythe.” + </p> + <p> + “Has thee seen Lord Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + “Once before I left these parts and often in London.” Her voice was + constrained; she seemed not to wish to speak of him. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that Jasper Kimber is to stand against him for Parliament?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. They say my lord has to do with foreign lands now. If he + helps Mr. Claridge there, then it would be a foolish thing for Jasper to + fight him; and so I’ve told him. You’ve got to stand by those that stand + by you. Lord Eglington has his own way of doing things. There’s not a + servant in my lady’s house that he hasn’t made his friend. He’s one that’s + bound to have his will. I heard my lady say he talks better than any one + in England, and there’s none she doesn’t know from duchesses down.” + </p> + <p> + “She is beautiful?” asked Faith, with hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Taller than you, but not so beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + Faith sighed, and was silent for a moment, then she laid a hand upon the + other’s shoulder. “Thee has never said what happened when thee first got + to London. Does thee care to say?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so long ago,” was the reply.... “No need to tell of the journey + to London. When I got there it frightened me at first. My head went round. + But somehow it came to me what I should do. I asked my way to a hospital. + I’d helped a many that was hurt at Heddington and thereabouts, and doctors + said I was as good as them that was trained. I found a hospital at last, + and asked for work, but they laughed at me—it was the porter at the + door. I was not to be put down, and asked to see some one that had rights + to say yes or no. So he opened the door and told me to go. I said he was + no man to treat a woman so, and I would not go. Then a fine white-haired + gentleman came forward. He had heard all we had said, standing in a little + room at one side. He spoke a kind word or two, and asked me to go into the + little room. Before I had time to think, he came to me with the matron, + and left me with her. I told her the whole truth, and she looked at first + as if she’d turn me out. But the end of it was I stayed there for the + night, and in the morning the old gentleman came again, and with him his + lady, as kind and sharp of tongue as himself, and as big as three. Some + things she said made my tongue ache to speak back to her; but I choked it + down. I went to her to be a sort of nurse and maid. She taught me how to + do a hundred things, and by-and-by I couldn’t be too thankful she had + taken me in. I was with her till she died. Then, six months ago I went to + Miss Maryon, who knew about me long before from her that died. With her + I’ve been ever since—and so that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely God has been kind to thee.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d have gone down—down—down, if it hadn’t been for Mr. + Claridge at the cross-roads.” + </p> + <p> + “Does thee think I shall like her that will live yonder?” She nodded + towards the Cloistered House. “There’s none but likes her. She will want a + friend, I’m thinking. She’ll be lonely by-and-by. Surely, she will be + lonely.” + </p> + <p> + Faith looked at her closely, and at last leaned over, and again laid a + soft hand on her shoulder. “Thee thinks that—why?” + </p> + <p> + “He cares only what matters to himself. She will be naught to him but one + that belongs. He’ll never try to do her good. Doing good to any but + himself never comes to his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “How does thee know him, to speak so surely?” + </p> + <p> + “When, at the first, he gave me a letter for her one day, and slipped a + sovereign into my hand, and nodded, and smiled at me, I knew him right + enough. He never could be true to aught.” + </p> + <p> + “Did thee keep the sovereign?” Faith asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that I did. If he was for giving his money away, I’d take it fast + enough. The gold gave father boots for a year. Why should I mind?” + </p> + <p> + Faith’s face suffused. How low was Eglington’s estimate of humanity! + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed the door of her room opened, and her father + entered. He held in one hand a paper, in the other a candle. His face was + passive, but his eyes were burning. + </p> + <p> + “David—David is coming,” he cried, in a voice that rang. “Does thee + hear, Faith? Davy is coming home!” A woman laughed exultantly. It was not + Faith. But still two years passed before David came. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. TIME, THE IDOL-BREAKER + </h2> + <p> + Lord Windlehurst looked meditatively round the crowded and brilliant + salon. His host, the Foreign Minister, had gathered in the vast golden + chamber the most notable people of a most notable season, and in as + critical a period of the world’s politics as had been known for a quarter + of a century. After a moment’s survey, the ex-Prime-Minister turned to + answer the frank and caustic words addressed to him by the Duchess of + Snowdon concerning the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. Presently he + said: + </p> + <p> + “But there is method in his haste, dear lady. He is good at his dangerous + game. He plays high, he plunges; but, somehow, he makes it do. I’ve been + in Parliament a generation or so, and I’ve never known an amateur more + daring and skilful. I should have given him office had I remained in + power. Look at him, and tell me if he wouldn’t have been worth the + backing.” + </p> + <p> + As Lord Windlehurst uttered the last word with an arid smile, he looked + quizzically at the central figure of a group of people gaily talking. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess impatiently tapped her knee with a fan. “Be thankful you + haven’t got him on your conscience,” she rejoined. “I call Eglington + unscrupulous and unreliable. He has but one god—getting on; and he + has got on, with a vengeance. Whenever I look at that dear thing he’s + married, I feel there’s no trusting Providence, who seems to make the + deserving a footstool for the undeserving. I’ve known Hylda since she was + ten, and I’ve known him since the minute he came into the world, and I’ve + got the measure of both. She is the finest essence the middle class can + distil, and he, oh, he’s paraffin-vin ordinaire, if you like it better, a + selfish, calculating adventurer!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Windlehurst chuckled mordantly. “Adventurer! That’s what they called + me—with more reason. I spotted him as soon as he spoke in the House. + There was devilry in him, and unscrupulousness, as you say; but, I + confess, I thought it would give way to the more profitable habit of + integrity, and that some cause would seize him, make him sincere and + mistaken, and give him a few falls. But in that he was more original than + I thought. He is superior to convictions. You don’t think he married + yonder Queen of Hearts from conviction, do you?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded towards a corner where Hylda, under a great palm, and backed by + a bank of flowers, stood surrounded by a group of people palpably amused + and interested; for she had a reputation for wit—a wit that never + hurt, and irony that was only whimsical. + </p> + <p> + “No, there you are wrong,” the Duchess answered. “He married from + conviction, if ever a man did. Look at her beauty, look at her fortune, + listen to her tongue. Don’t you think conviction was easy?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Windlehurst looked at Hylda approvingly. She has the real gift—little + information, but much knowledge, the primary gift of public life. + “Information is full of traps; knowledge avoids them, it reads men; and + politics is men—and foreign affairs, perhaps! She is remarkable. + I’ve made some hay in the political world, not so much as the babblers + think, but I hadn’t her ability at twenty-five.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t she see through Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Betty, he didn’t give her time. He carried her off her feet. You + know how he can talk.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the trouble. She was clever, and liked a clever man, and he—!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. He’d disprove his own honest parentage, if it would help him on—as + you say.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t say it. Now don’t repeat that as from me. I’m not clever enough + to think of such things. But that Eglington lot—I knew his father + and his grandfather. Old Broadbrim they called his grandfather after he + turned Quaker, and he didn’t do that till he had had his fling, so my + father used to say. And Old Broadbrim’s father was called I-want-to-know. + He was always poking his nose into things, and playing at being a + chemist-like this one and the one before. They all fly off. This one’s + father used to disappear for two or three years at a time. This one will + fly off, too. You’ll see! + </p> + <p> + “He is too keen on Number One for that, I fancy. He calculates like a + mathematician. As cool as a cracksman of fame and fancy.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess dropped the fan in her lap. “My dear, I’ve said nothing as bad + as that about him. And there he is at the Foreign Office!” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, what has he done, Betty, after all? He has never cheated at cards, + or forged a cheque, or run away with his neighbour’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no credit in not doing what you don’t want to do. There’s no + virtue in not falling, when you’re not tempted. Neighbour’s wife! He + hasn’t enough feeling to face it. Oh no, he’ll not break the heart of his + neighbour’s wife. That’s melodrama, and he’s a cold-blooded artist. He + will torture that sweet child over there until she poisons him, or runs + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t he too clever for that? She has a million!” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll not realise it till it’s all over. He’s too selfish to see—how + I hate him!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Windlehurst smiled indulgently at her. “Ah, you never hated any one—not + even the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not have you take away my character. Of course I’ve hated, or I + wouldn’t be worth a button. I’m not the silly thing you’ve always thought + me.” + </p> + <p> + His face became gentler. “I’ve always thought you one of the wisest women + of this world—adventurous, but wise. If it weren’t too late, if my + day weren’t over, I’d ask the one great favour, Betty, and—” + </p> + <p> + She tapped his arm sharply with her fan. “What a humbug you are—the + Great Pretender! But tell me, am I not right about Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + Windlehurst became grave. “Yes, you are right—but I admire him, too. + He is determined to test himself to the full. His ambition is boundless + and ruthless, but his mind has a scientific turn—the obligation of + energy to apply itself, of intelligence to engage itself to the farthest + limit. But service to humanity—” + </p> + <p> + “Service to humanity!” she sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he would think it ‘flap-doodle’—except in a speech; but I + repeat, I admire him. Think of it all. He was a poor Irish peer, with no + wide circle of acquaintance, come of a family none too popular. He strikes + out a course for himself—a course which had its dangers, because it + was original. He determines to become celebrated—by becoming + notorious first. He uses his title as a weapon for advancement as though + he were a butter merchant. He plans carefully and adroitly. He writes a + book of travel. It is impudent, and it traverses the observations of + authorities, and the scientific geographers prance with rage. That was + what he wished. He writes a novel. It sets London laughing at me, his + political chief. He knew me well enough to be sure I would not resent it. + He would have lampooned his grandmother, if he was sure she would not, or + could not, hurt him. Then he becomes more audacious. He publishes a + monograph on the painters of Spain, artificial, confident, rhetorical, + acute: as fascinating as a hide-and-seek drawing-room play—he is so + cleverly escaping from his ignorance and indiscretions all the while. + Connoisseurs laugh, students of art shriek a little, and Ruskin writes a + scathing letter, which was what he had played for. He had got something + for nothing cheaply. The few who knew and despised him did not matter, for + they were able and learned and obscure, and, in the world where he moves, + most people are superficial, mediocre, and ‘tuppence coloured.’ It was all + very brilliant. He pursued his notoriety, and got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Industrious Eglington!” + </p> + <p> + “But, yes, he is industrious. It is all business. It was an enormous risk, + rebelling against his party, and leaving me, and going over; but his + temerity justified itself, and it didn’t matter to him that people said he + went over to get office as we were going out. He got the office-and people + forget so soon. Then, what does he do—” + </p> + <p> + “He brings out another book, and marries a wife, and abuses his old + friends—and you.” + </p> + <p> + “Abuse? With his tongue in his cheek, hoping that I should reply. + Dev’lishly ingenious! But on that book of Electricity and Disease he + scored. In most other things he’s a barber-shop philosopher, but in + science he has got a flare, a real talent. So he moves modestly in this + thing, for which he had a fine natural gift and more knowledge than he + ever had before in any department, whose boundaries his impertinent and + ignorant mind had invaded. That book gave him a place. It wasn’t full of + new things, but it crystallised the discoveries, suggestions, and + expectations of others; and, meanwhile, he had got a name at no cost. He + is so various. Look at it dispassionately, and you will see much to admire + in his skill. He pleases, he amuses, he startles, he baffles, he + mystifies.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess made an impatient exclamation. “The silly newspapers call him + a ‘remarkable man, a personality.’ Now, believe me, Windlehurst, he will + overreach himself one of these days, and he’ll come down like a stick.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are on solid ground. He thinks that Fate is with him, and that, + in taking risks, he is infallible. But the best system breaks at political + roulette sooner or later. You have got to work for something outside + yourself, something that is bigger than the game, or the end is + sickening.” + </p> + <p> + “Eglington hasn’t far to go, if that’s the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, when it comes, we must help him—we must help him up + again.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess nervously adjusted her wig, with ludicrously tiny fingers for + one so ample, and said petulantly: “You are incomprehensible. He has been + a traitor to you and to your party, he has thrown mud at you, he has + played with principles as my terrier plays with his rubber ball, and yet + you’ll run and pick him up when he falls, and—” + </p> + <p> + “‘And kiss the spot to make it well,’” he laughed softly, then added with + a sigh: “Able men in public life are few; ‘far too few, for half our + tasks; we can spare not one.’ Besides, my dear Betty, there is his pretty + lass o’ London.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess was mollified at once. “I wish she had been my girl,” she + said, in a voice a little tremulous. “She never needed looking after. Look + at the position she has made for herself. Her father wouldn’t go into + society, her mother knew a mere handful of people, and—” + </p> + <p> + “She knew you, Betty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose I did help her a little—I was only a kind of + reference. She did the rest. She’s set a half-dozen fashions herself—pure + genius. She was born to lead. Her turnouts were always a little smarter, + her horses travelled a little faster, than other people’s. She took risks, + too, but she didn’t play a game; she only wanted to do things well. We all + gasped when she brought Adelaide to recite from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ at an + evening party, but all London did the same the week after.” + </p> + <p> + “She discovered, and the Duchess of Snowdon applied the science. Ah, + Betty, don’t think I don’t agree. She has the gift. She has temperament. + No woman should have temperament. She hasn’t scope enough to wear it out + in some passion for a cause. Men are saved in spite of themselves by the + law of work. Forty comes to a man of temperament, and then a passion for a + cause seizes him, and he is safe. A woman of temperament at forty is apt + to cut across the bows of iron-clad convention and go down. She has + temperament, has my lady yonder, and I don’t like the look of her eyes + sometimes. There’s dark fire smouldering in them. She should have a cause; + but a cause to a woman now-a-days means ‘too little of pleasure, too much + of pain,’ for others.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your real cause, Windlehurst? You had one, I suppose, for you’ve + never had a fall.” + </p> + <p> + “My cause? You ask that? Behold the barren figtree! A lifetime in my + country’s service, and you who have driven me home from the House in your + own brougham, and told me that you understood—oh, Betty!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “You’ll say something funny as you’re dying, Windlehurst.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. But it will be funny to know that presently I’ll have a secret + that none of you know, who watch me ‘launch my pinnace into the dark.’ But + causes? There are hundreds, and all worth while. I’ve come here to-night + for a cause—no, don’t start, it’s not you, Betty, though you are + worth any sacrifice. I’ve come here to-night to see a modern Paladin, a + real crusader: + </p> + <p> + “‘Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, When a new planet swims into + his ken.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s poetry, Windlehurst, and you know I love it-I’ve always kept + yours. But who’s the man—the planet?” + </p> + <p> + “Egyptian Claridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he is in England?” + </p> + <p> + “He will be here to-night; you shall see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! What is his origin?” + </p> + <p> + He told her briefly, adding: “I’ve watched the rise of Claridge Pasha. + I’ve watched his cause grow, and now I shall see the man—ah, but + here comes our lass o’ London!” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of both brightened, and a whimsical pleasure came to the + mask-like face of Lord Windlehurst. There was an eager and delighted look + in Hylda’s face also as she quickly came to them, her cavaliers following. + </p> + <p> + The five years that had passed since that tragic night in Cairo had been + more than kind to her. She was lissome, radiant, and dignified, her face + was alive with expression, and a delicate grace was in every movement. The + dark lashes seemed to have grown longer, the brown hair fuller, the smile + softer and more alluring. + </p> + <p> + “She is an invaluable asset to the Government,” Lord Windlehurst murmured + as she came. “No wonder the party helped the marriage on. London conspired + for it, her feet got tangled in the web—and he gave her no time to + think. Thinking had saved her till he came.” + </p> + <p> + By instinct Lord Windlehurst knew. During the first year after the + catastrophe at Kaid’s Palace Hylda could scarcely endure the advances made + by her many admirers, the greatly eligible and the eager ineligible, all + with as real an appreciation of her wealth as of her personal attributes. + But she took her place in London life with more than the old will to make + for herself, with the help of her aunt Conyngham, an individual position. + </p> + <p> + The second year after her visit to Egypt she was less haunted by the dark + episode of the Palace, memory tortured her less; she came to think of + David and the part he had played with less agitation. At first the thought + of him had moved her alternately to sympathy and to revolt. His chivalry + had filled her with admiration, with a sense of confidence, of dependence, + of touching and vital obligation; but there was, too, another + overmastering feeling. He had seen her life naked, as it were, stripped of + all independence, with the knowledge of a dangerous indiscretion which, to + say the least, was a deformity; and she inwardly resented it, as one would + resent the exposure of a long-hidden physical deformity, even by the + surgeon who saved one’s life. It was not a very lofty attitude of mind, + but it was human—and feminine. + </p> + <p> + These moods had been always dissipated, however, when she recalled, as she + did so often, David as he stood before Nahoum Pasha, his soul fighting in + him to make of his enemy—of the man whose brother he had killed—a + fellow-worker in the path of altruism he had mapped out for himself. + David’s name had been continually mentioned in telegraphic reports and + journalistic correspondence from Egypt; and from this source she had + learned that Nahoum Pasha was again high in the service of Prince Kaid. + When the news of David’s southern expedition to the revolting + slave-dealing tribes began to appear, she was deeply roused. Her agitation + was the more intense because she never permitted herself to talk of him to + others, even when his name was discussed at dinner-tables, accompanied by + strange legends of his origin and stranger romances regarding his call to + power by Kaid. + </p> + <p> + She had surrounded him with romance; he seemed more a hero of history than + of her own real and living world, a being apart. Even when there came + rumblings of disaster, dark dangers to be conquered by the Quaker + crusader, it all was still as of another life. True it was, that when his + safe return to Cairo was announced she had cried with joy and relief; but + there was nothing emotional or passionate in her feeling; it was the love + of the lower for the higher, the hero-worship of an idealist in passionate + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + And, amid it all, her mind scarcely realised that they would surely meet + again. At the end of the second year the thought had receded into an + almost indefinite past. She was beginning to feel that she had lived two + lives, and that this life had no direct or vital bearing upon her previous + existence, in which David had moved. Yet now and then the perfume of the + Egyptian garden, through which she had fled to escape from tragedy, swept + over her senses, clouded her eyes in the daytime, made them burn at night. + </p> + <p> + At last she had come to meet and know Eglington. From the first moment + they met he had directed his course towards marriage. He was the man of + the moment. His ambition seemed but patriotism, his ardent and + overwhelming courtship the impulse of a powerful nature. As Lord + Windlehurst had said, he carried her off her feet, and, on a wave of + devotion and popular encouragement, he had swept her to the altar. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess held both her hands for a moment, admiring her, and, + presently, with a playful remark upon her unselfishness, left her alone + with Lord Windlehurst. + </p> + <p> + As they talked, his mask-like face became lighted from the brilliant fire + in the inquisitorial eyes, his lips played with topics of the moment in a + mordant fashion, which drew from her flashing replies. Looking at her, he + was conscious of the mingled qualities of three races in her—English, + Welsh, and American-Dutch of the Knickerbocker strain; and he contrasted + her keen perception and her exquisite sensitiveness with the purebred + Englishwomen round him, stately, kindly, handsome, and monotonously + intelligent. + </p> + <p> + “Now I often wonder,” he said, conscious of, but indifferent to, the + knowledge that he and the brilliant person beside him were objects of + general attention—“I often wonder, when I look at a gathering like + this, how many undiscovered crimes there are playing about among us. They + never do tell—or shall I say, we never do tell?” + </p> + <p> + All day, she knew not why, Hylda had been nervous and excited. Without + reason his words startled her. Now there flashed before her eyes a room in + a Palace at Cairo, and a man lying dead before her. The light slowly faded + out of her eyes, leaving them almost lustreless, but her face was calm, + and the smile on her lips stayed. She fanned herself slowly, and answered + nonchalantly: “Crime is a word of many meanings. I read in the papers of + political crimes—it is a common phrase; yet the criminals appear to + go unpunished.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are wrong,” he answered cynically. “The punishment is, that + political virtue goes unrewarded, and in due course crime is the only + refuge to most. Yet in politics the temptation to be virtuous is great.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed now with a sense of relief. The intellectual stimulant had + brought back the light to her face. “How is it, then, with you—inveterate + habit or the strain of the ages? For they say you have not had your due + reward.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled grimly. “Ah, no, with me virtue is the act of an inquiring mind—to + discover where it will lead me. I began with political crime—I was + understood! I practise political virtue: it embarrasses the world, it fogs + them, it seems original, because so unnecessary. Mine is the scientific + life. Experiment in old substances gives new—well, say, new + precipitations. But you are scientific, too. You have a laboratory, and + have much to do—with retorts.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are thinking of my husband. The laboratory is his.” + </p> + <p> + “But the retorts are yours.” + </p> + <p> + “The precipitations are his.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, at least you help him to fuse the constituents!... But now, be + quite confidential to an old man who has experimented too. Is your husband + really an amateur scientist, or is he a scientific amateur? Is it a pose + or a taste? I fiddled once—and wrote sonnets; one was a pose, the + other a taste.” + </p> + <p> + It was mere persiflage, but it was a jest which made an unintended wound. + Hylda became conscious of a sudden sharp inquiry going on in her mind. + There flashed into it the question, Does Eglington’s heart ever really + throb for love of any object or any cause? Even in moments of greatest + intimacy, soon after marriage, when he was most demonstrative towards her, + he had seemed preoccupied, except when speaking about himself and what he + meant to do. Then he made her heart throb in response to his confident, + ardent words—concerning himself. But his own heart, did it throb? Or + was it only his brain that throbbed? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with an exclamation, she involuntarily laid a hand upon + Windlehurst’s arm. She was looking down the room straight before her to a + group of people towards which other groups were now converging, attracted + by one who seemed to be a centre of interest. + </p> + <p> + Presently the eager onlookers drew aside, and Lord Windlehurst observed + moving up the room a figure he had never seen before. The new-comer was + dressed in a grey and blue official dress, unrelieved save by silver braid + at the collar and at the wrists. There was no decoration, but on the head + was a red fez, which gave prominence to the white, broad forehead, with + the dark hair waving away behind the ears. Lord Windlehurst held his + eye-glass to his eye in interested scrutiny. “H’m,” he said, with lips + pursed out, “a most notable figure, a most remarkable face! My dear, + there’s a fortune in that face. It’s a national asset.” + </p> + <p> + He saw the flush, the dumb amazement, the poignant look in Lady + Eglington’s face, and registered it in his mind. “Poor thing,” he said to + himself, “I wonder what it is all about—I wonder. I thought she had + no unregulated moments. She gave promise of better things.” The Foreign + Minister was bringing his guest towards them. The new-comer did not look + at them till within a few steps of where they stood. Then his eyes met + those of Lady Eglington. For an instant his steps were arrested. A swift + light came into his face, softening its quiet austerity and strength. + </p> + <p> + It was David. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. SHARPER THAN A SWORD + </h2> + <p> + A glance of the eye was the only sign of recognition between David and + Hylda; nothing that others saw could have suggested that they had ever met + before. Lord Windlehurst at once engaged David in conversation. + </p> + <p> + At first when Hylda had come back from Egypt, those five years ago, she + had often wondered what she would think or do if she ever were to see this + man again; whether, indeed, she could bear it. Well, the moment and the + man had come. Her eyes had gone blind for an instant; it had seemed for + one sharp, crucial moment as though she could not bear it; then the gulf + of agitation was passed, and she had herself in hand. + </p> + <p> + While her mind was engaged subconsciously with what Lord Windlehurst and + David said, comprehending it all, and, when Lord Windlehurst appealed to + her, offering by a word contribution to the ‘pourparler’, she was studying + David as steadily as her heated senses would permit her. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to her to have put on twenty years in the steady force of his + personality—in the composure of his bearing, in the self-reliance of + his look, though his face and form were singularly youthful. The face was + handsome and alight, the look was that of one who weighed things; yet she + was conscious of a great change. The old delicate quality of the features + was not so marked, though there was nothing material in the look, and the + head had not a sordid line, while the hand that he now and again raised, + brushing his forehead meditatively, had gained much in strength and force. + Yet there was something—something different, that brought a slight + cloud into her eyes. It came to her now, a certain melancholy in the + bearing of the figure, erect and well-balanced as it was. Once the feeling + came, the certainty grew. And presently she found a strange sadness in the + eyes, something that lurked behind all that he did and all that he was, + some shadow over the spirit. It was even more apparent when he smiled. + </p> + <p> + As she was conscious of this new reading of him, a motion arrested her + glance, a quick lifting of the head to one side, as though the mind had + suddenly been struck by an idea, the glance flying upward in abstracted + questioning. This she had seen in her husband, too, the same brisk lifting + of the head, the same quick smiling. Yet this face, unlike Eglington’s, + expressed a perfect single-mindedness; it wore the look of a self-effacing + man of luminous force, a concentrated battery of energy. Since she had + last seen him every sign of the provincial had vanished. He was now the + well-modulated man of affairs, elegant in his simplicity of dress, with + the dignified air of the intellectual, yet with the decision of a man who + knew his mind. + </p> + <p> + Lord Windlehurst was leaving. Now David and she were alone. Without a word + they moved on together through the throng, the eyes of all following them, + until they reached a quiet room at one end of the salon, where were only a + few people watching the crowd pass the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “You will be glad to sit,” he said, motioning her to a chair beside some + palms. Then, with a change of tone, he added: “Thee is not sorry I am + come?” + </p> + <p> + Thee—the old-fashioned simple Quaker word! She put her fingers to + her eyes. Her senses were swimming with a distant memory. The East was in + her brain, the glow of the skies, the gleam of the desert, the swish of + the Nile, the cry of the sweet-seller, the song of the dance-girl, the + strain of the darabukkeh, the call of the skis. She saw again the ghiassas + drifting down the great river, laden with dourha; she saw the mosque of + the blue tiles with its placid fountain, and its handful of worshippers + praying by the olive-tree. She watched the moon rise above the immobile + Sphinx, she looked down on the banqueters in the Palace, David among them, + and Foorgat Bey beside her. She saw Foorgat Bey again lying dead at her + feet. She heard the stir of the leaves; she caught the smell of the + lime-trees in the Palace garden as she fled. She recalled her reckless + return to Cairo from Alexandria. She remembered the little room where she + and David, Nahoum and Mizraim, crossed a bridge over a chasm, and stood + upon ground which had held good till now—till this hour, when the + man who had played a most vital part in her life had come again out of a + land which, by some forced obliquity of mind and stubbornness of will, she + had assured herself she would never see again. + </p> + <p> + She withdrew her hand from her eyes, and saw him looking at her calmly, + though his face was alight. “Thee is fatigued,” he said. “This is labour + which wears away the strength.” He made a motion towards the crowd. + </p> + <p> + She smiled a very little, and said: “You do not care for such things as + this, I know. Your life has its share of it, however, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + He looked out over the throng before he answered. “It seems an eddy of + purposeless waters. Yet there is great depth beneath, or there were no + eddy; and where there is depth and the eddy there is danger—always.” + As he spoke she became almost herself again. “You think that deep natures + have most perils?” + </p> + <p> + “Thee knows it is so. Human nature is like the earth: the deeper the + plough goes into the soil unploughed before, the more evil substance is + turned up—evil that becomes alive as soon as the sun and the air + fall upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, women like me who pursue a flippant life, who ride in this + merry-go-round”—she made a gesture towards the crowd beyond—“who + have no depth, we are safest, we live upon the surface.” Her gaiety was + forced; her words were feigned. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has passed the point of danger, thee is safe,” he answered + meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that because I am not deep, or because the plough has been at work?” + she asked. “In neither case I am not sure you are right.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee is happily married,” he said reflectively; “and the prospect is + fair.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you know my husband,” she said in answer, and yet not in answer. + </p> + <p> + “I was born in Hamley where he has a place—thee has been there?” he + asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. We are to go next Sunday, for the first time to the Cloistered + House. I had not heard that my husband knew you, until I saw in the paper + a few days ago that your home was in Hamley. Then I asked Eglington, and + he told me that your family and his had been neighbours for generations.” + </p> + <p> + “His father was a Quaker,” David rejoined, “but he forsook the faith.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know,” she answered, with some hesitation. There was no reason + why, when she and Eglington had talked of Hamley, he should not have said + his own father had once been a Quaker; yet she had dwelt so upon the fact + that she herself had Quaker blood, and he had laughed so much over it, + with the amusement of the superior person, that his silence on this one + point struck her now with a sense of confusion. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to Hamley—we shall meet there?” she continued. + </p> + <p> + “To-day I should have gone, but I have business at the Foreign Office + to-morrow. One needs time to learn that all ‘private interests and partial + affections’ must be sacrificed to public duty.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are going soon? You will be there on Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be there to-morrow night, and Sunday, and for one long week at + least. Hamley is the centre of the world, the axle of the universe—you + shall see. You doubt it?” he added, with a whimsical smile. + </p> + <p> + “I shall dispute most of what you say, and all that you think, if you do + not continue to use the Quaker ‘thee’ and ‘thou’—ungrammatical as + you are so often.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee is now the only person in London, or in England, with whom I use + ‘thee’ and ‘thou.’ I am no longer my own master, I am a public servant, + and so I must follow custom.” + </p> + <p> + “It is destructive of personality. The ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ belong to you. I + wonder if the people of Hamley will say ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ to me. I hope, I + do hope they will.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee may be sure they will. They are no respecters of persons there. They + called your husband’s father Robert—his name was Robert. Friend + Robert they called him, and afterwards they called him Robert Denton till + he died.” + </p> + <p> + “Will they call me Hylda?” she asked, with a smile. “More like they will + call thee Friend Hylda; it sounds simple and strong,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “As they call Claridge Pasha Friend David,” she answered, with a smile. + “David is a good name for a strong man.” + </p> + <p> + “That David threw a stone from a sling and smote a giant in the forehead. + The stone from this David’s sling falls into the ocean and is lost beneath + the surface.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had taken on a somewhat sombre tone, his eyes looked away into + the distance; yet he smiled too, and a hand upon his knee suddenly closed + in sympathy with an inward determination. + </p> + <p> + A light of understanding came into her face. They had been keeping things + upon the surface, and, while it lasted, he seemed a lesser man than she + had thought him these past years. But now—now there was the old + unschooled simplicity, the unique and lonely personality, the homely soul + and body bending to one root-idea, losing themselves in a wave of duty. + Again he was to her, once more, the dreamer, the worker, the conqueror—the + conqueror of her own imagination. She had in herself the soul of altruism, + the heart of the crusader. Touched by the fire of a great idea, she was of + those who could have gone out into the world without wallet or scrip, to + work passionately for some great end. + </p> + <p> + And she had married the Earl of Eglington! + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards David, and said eagerly: “But you are satisfied—you + are satisfied with your work for poor Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “Thee says ‘poor Egypt,’” he answered, “and thee says well. Even now she + is not far from the day of Rameses and Joseph. Thee thinks perhaps thee + knows Egypt—none knows her.” + </p> + <p> + “You know her—now?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head slowly. “It is like putting one’s ear to the mouth of + the Sphinx. Yet sometimes, almost in despair, when I have lain down in the + desert beside my camel, set about with enemies, I have got a message from + the barren desert, the wide silence, and the stars.” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “What is the message that comes?” she asked softly. “It is always the + same: Work on! Seek not to know too much, nor think that what you do is of + vast value. Work, because it is yours to be adjusting the machinery in + your own little workshop of life to the wide mechanism of the universe and + time. One wheel set right, one flying belt adjusted, and there is a step + forward to the final harmony—ah, but how I preach!” he added + hastily. + </p> + <p> + His eyes were fixed on hers with a great sincerity, and they were clear + and shining, yet his lips were smiling—what a trick they had of + smiling! He looked as though he should apologise for such words in such a + place. + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet with a great suspiration, with a light in her eyes + and a trembling smile. + </p> + <p> + “But no, no, no, you inspire one. Thee inspires me,” she said, with a + little laugh, in which there was a note of sadness. “I may use ‘thee,’ may + I not, when I will? I am a little a Quaker also, am I not? My people came + from Derbyshire, my American people, that is—and only forty years + ago. Almost thee persuades me to be a Quaker now,” she added. “And perhaps + I shall be, too,” she went on, her eyes fixed on the crowd passing by, + Eglington among them. + </p> + <p> + David saw Eglington also, and moved forward with her. + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet in Hamley,” she said composedly, as she saw her husband + leave the crush and come towards her. As Eglington noticed David, a + curious enigmatical glance flashed from his eyes. He came forward, + however, with outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I was not at the Foreign Office when you called to-day. + Welcome back to England, home—and beauty.” He laughed in a rather + mirthless way, but with a certain empressement, conscious, as he always + was, of the onlookers. “You have had a busy time in Egypt?” he continued + cheerfully, and laughed again. + </p> + <p> + David laughed slightly, also, and Hylda noticed that it had a certain + resemblance in its quick naturalness to that of her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that we are so busy there as we ought to be,” David + answered. “I have no real standards. I am but an amateur, and have known + nothing of public life. But you should come and see.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been in my mind. An ounce of eyesight is worth a ton of print. My + lady was there once, I believe”—he turned towards her—“but + before your time, I think. Or did you meet there, perhaps?” He glanced at + both curiously. He scarcely knew why a thought flashed into his mind—as + though by some telepathic sense; for it had never been there before, and + there was no reason for its being there now. + </p> + <p> + Hylda saw what David was about to answer, and she knew instinctively that + he would say they had never met. It shamed her. She intervened as she saw + he was about to speak. + </p> + <p> + “We were introduced for the first time to-night,” she said; “but Claridge + Pasha is part of my education in the world. It is a miracle that Hamley + should produce two such men,” she added gaily, and laid her fan upon her + husband’s arm lightly. “You should have been a Quaker, Harry, and then you + two would have been—” + </p> + <p> + “Two Quaker Don Quixotes,” interrupted Eglington ironically. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have called you a Don Quixote,” his wife lightly rejoined, + relieved at the turn things had taken. “I cannot imagine you tilting at + wind-mills—” + </p> + <p> + “Or saving maidens in distress? Well, perhaps not; but you do not suggest + that Claridge Pasha tilts at windmills either—or saves maidens in + distress. Though, now I come to think, there was an episode.” He laughed + maliciously. “Some time ago it was—a lass of the cross-roads. I + think I heard of such an adventure, which did credit to Claridge Pasha’s + heart, though it shocked Hamley at the time. But I wonder, was the maiden + really saved?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eglington’s face became rigid. “Well, yes,” she said slowly, “the + maiden was saved. She is now my maid. Hamley may have been shocked, but + Claridge Pasha has every reason to be glad that he helped a fellow-being + in trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Your maid—Heaver?” asked Eglington in surprise, a swift shadow + crossing his face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she only told me this morning. Perhaps she had seen that Claridge + Pasha was coming to England. I had not, however. At any rate, Quixotism + saved her.” + </p> + <p> + David smiled. “It is better than I dared to hope,” he remarked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But that is not all,” continued Hylda. “There is more. She had been used + badly by a man who now wants to marry her—has tried to do so for + years. Now, be prepared for a surprise, for it concerns you rather + closely, Eglington. Fate is a whimsical jade. Whom do you think it is? + Well, since you could never guess, it was Jasper Kimber.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington’s eyes opened wide. “This is nothing but a coarse and impossible + stage coincidence,” he laughed. “It is one of those tricks played by Fact + to discredit the imagination. Life is laughing at us again. The longer I + live, the more I am conscious of being an object of derision by the + scene-shifters in the wings of the stage. What a cynical comedy life is at + the best!” + </p> + <p> + “It all seems natural enough,” rejoined David. + </p> + <p> + “It is all paradox.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it all inevitable law? I have no belief in ‘antic Fate.’” + </p> + <p> + Hylda realised, with a new and poignant understanding, the difference of + outlook on life between the two men. She suddenly remembered the words of + Confucius, which she had set down in her little book of daily life: “By + nature we approximate, it is only experience that drives us apart.” + </p> + <p> + David would have been content to live in the desert all his life for the + sake of a cause, making no calculations as to reward. Eglington must ever + have the counters for the game. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you do not believe in ‘antic Fate,’ you must be greatly puzzled + as you go on,” he rejoined, laughing; “especially in Egypt, where the East + and the West collide, race against race, religion against religion, + Oriental mind against Occidental intellect. You have an unusual quantity + of Quaker composure, to see in it all ‘inevitable law.’ And it must be + dull. But you always were, so they say in Hamley, a monument of + seriousness.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe they made one or two exceptions,” answered David drily. “I had + assurances.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington laughed boyishly. “You are right. You achieved a name for humour + in a day—‘a glass, a kick, and a kiss,’ it was. Do you have such + days in Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “You must come and see,” David answered lightly, declining to notice the + insolence. “These are critical days there. The problems are worthy of your + care. Will you not come?” + </p> + <p> + Eglington was conscious of a peculiar persuasive influence over himself + that he had never felt before. In proportion, however, as he felt its + compelling quality, there came a jealousy of the man who was its cause. + The old antagonism, which had had its sharpest expression the last time + they had met on the platform at Heddington, came back. It was one strong + will resenting another—as though there was not room enough in the + wide world of being for these two atoms of life, sparks from the ceaseless + wheel, one making a little brighter flash than the other for the moment, + and then presently darkness, and the whirring wheel which threw them off, + throwing off millions of others again. + </p> + <p> + On the moment Eglington had a temptation to say something with an edge, + which would show David that his success in Egypt hung upon the course that + he himself and the weak Foreign Minister, under whom he served, would + take. And this course would be his own course largely, since he had been + appointed to be a force and strength in the Foreign Office which his chief + did not supply. He refrained, however, and, on the moment, remembered the + promise he had given to Faith to help David. + </p> + <p> + A wave of feeling passed over him. His wife was beautiful, a creature of + various charms, a centre of attraction. Yet he had never really loved her—so + many sordid elements had entered into the thought of marriage with her, + lowering the character of his affection. With a perversity which only such + men know, such heart as he had turned to the unknown Quaker girl who had + rebuked him, scathed him, laid bare his soul before himself, as no one + ever had done. To Eglington it was a relief that there was one human being—he + thought there was only one—who read him through and through; and + that knowledge was in itself as powerful an influence as was the secret + between David and Hylda. It was a kind of confessional, comforting to a + nature not self-contained. Now he restrained his cynical intention to deal + David a side-thrust, and quietly said: + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet at Hamley, shall we not? Let us talk there, and not at the + Foreign Office. You would care to go to Egypt, Hylda?” + </p> + <p> + She forced a smile. “Let us talk it over at Hamley.” With a smile to David + she turned away to some friends. + </p> + <p> + Eglington offered to introduce David to some notable people, but he said + that he must go—he was fatigued after his journey. He had no wish to + be lionised. + </p> + <p> + As he left the salon, the band was playing a tune that made him close his + eyes, as though against something he would not see. The band in Kaid’s + Palace had played it that night when he had killed Foorgat Bey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. EACH AFTER HIS OWN ORDER + </h2> + <p> + With the passing years new feelings had grown up in the heart of Luke + Claridge. Once David’s destiny and career were his own peculiar and + self-assumed responsibility. “Inwardly convicted,” he had wrenched the lad + away from the natural circumstances of his life, and created a scheme of + existence for him out of his own conscience—a pious egoist. + </p> + <p> + After David went to Egypt, however, his mind involuntarily formed the + resolution that “Davy and God should work it out together.” + </p> + <p> + He had grown very old in appearance, and his quiet face was almost + painfully white; but the eyes burned with more fire than in the past. As + the day approached when David should arrive in England, he walked by + himself continuously, oblivious of the world round him. He spoke to no + one, save the wizened Elder Meacham, and to John Fairley, who rightly felt + that he had a share in the making of Claridge Pasha. + </p> + <p> + With head perched in the air, and face half hidden in his great white + collar, the wizened Elder, stopping Luke Claridge in the street one day, + said: + </p> + <p> + “Does thee think the lad will ride in Pharaoh’s chariot here?” + </p> + <p> + There were sly lines of humour about the mouth of the wizened Elder as he + spoke, but Luke Claridge did not see. + </p> + <p> + “Pride is far from his heart,” he answered portentously. “He will ride in + no chariot. He has written that he will walk here from Heddington, and + none is to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “He will come by the cross-roads, perhaps,” rejoined the other piously. + “Well, well, memory is a flower or a rod, as John Fox said, and the + cross-roads have memories for him.” + </p> + <p> + Again flashes of humour crossed his face, for he had a wide humanity, of + insufficient exercise. + </p> + <p> + “He has made full atonement, and thee does ill to recall the past, + Reuben,” rejoined the other sternly. + </p> + <p> + “If he has done no more that needs atonement than he did that day at the + cross-roads, then has his history been worthy of Hamley,” rejoined the + wizened Elder, eyes shut and head buried in his collar. “Hamley made him—Hamley + made him. We did not spare advice, or example, or any correction that came + to our minds—indeed, it was almost a luxury. Think you, does he + still play the flute—an instrument none too grave, Luke?” + </p> + <p> + But, to this, Luke Claridge exclaimed impatiently and hastened on; and the + little wizened Elder chuckled to himself all the way to the house of John + Fairley. None in Hamley took such pride in David as did these two old men, + who had loved him from a child, but had discreetly hidden their favour, + save to each other. Many times they had met and prayed together in the + weeks when his life was in notorious danger in the Soudan. + </p> + <p> + As David walked through the streets of Heddington making for the open + country, he was conscious of a new feeling regarding the place. It was + familiar, but in a new sense. Its grimy, narrow streets, unlovely houses, + with shut windows, summer though it was, and no softening influences + anywhere, save here and there a box of sickly geraniums in the windows, + all struck his mind in a way they had never done before. A mile away were + the green fields, the woods, the roadsides gay with flowers and + shrubs-loveliness was but over the wall, as it were; yet here the + barrack-like houses, the grey, harsh streets, seemed like prison walls, + and the people in them prisoners who, with every legal right to call + themselves free, were as much captives as the criminal on some small + island in a dangerous sea. Escape—where? Into the gulf of no work + and degradation? + </p> + <p> + They never lifted their eyes above the day’s labour. They were scarce + conscious of anything beyond. What were their pleasures? They had + imitations of pleasures. To them a funeral or a wedding, a riot or a + vociferous band, a dog-fight or a strike, were alike in this, that they + quickened feelings which carried them out of themselves, gave them a sense + of intoxication. + </p> + <p> + Intoxication? David remembered the far-off day of his own wild rebellion + in Hamley. From that day forward he had better realised that in the hearts + of so many of the human race there was a passion to forget themselves; to + blot out, if for a moment only, the troubles of life and time; or, by + creating a false air of exaltation, to rise above them. Once in the + desert, when men were dying round him of fever and dysentery, he had been + obliged, exhausted and ill, scarce able to drag himself from his bed, to + resort to an opiate to allay his own sufferings, that he might minister to + others. He remembered how, in the atmosphere it had created—an + intoxication, a soothing exhilaration and pervasive thrill—he had + saved so many of his followers. Since then the temptation had come upon + him often when trouble weighed or difficulties surrounded him—accompanied + always by recurrence of fever—to resort to the insidious medicine. + Though he had fought the temptation with every inch of his strength, he + could too well understand those who sought for “surcease of pain”. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Seeking for surcease of pain, + Pilgrim to Lethe I came; + Drank not, for pride was too keen, + Stung by the sound of a name!” + </pre> + <p> + As the plough of action had gone deep into his life and laid bare his + nature to the light, there had been exposed things which struggled for + life and power in him, with the fiery strength which only evil has. + </p> + <p> + The western heavens were aglow. On every hand the gorse and the may were + in bloom, the lilacs were coming to their end, but wild rhododendrons were + glowing in the bracken, as he stepped along the road towards the place + where he was born. Though every tree and roadmark was familiar, yet he was + conscious of a new outlook. He had left these quiet scenes inexperienced + and untravelled, to be thrust suddenly into the thick of a struggle of + nations over a sick land. He had worked in a vortex of debilitating local + intrigue. All who had to do with Egypt gained except herself, and if she + moved in revolt or agony, they threatened her. Once when resisting the + pressure and the threats of war of a foreign diplomatist, he had, after a + trying hour, written to Faith in a burst of passionate complaint, and his + letter had ended with these words. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In your onward march, O men, + White of face, in promise whiter, + You unsheath the sword, and then + Blame the wronged as the fighter. + + “Time, ah, Time, rolls onward o’er + All these foetid fields of evil, + While hard at the nation’s core + Eats the burning rust and weevill + + “Nathless, out beyond the stars + Reigns the Wiser and the Stronger, + Seeing in all strifes and wars + Who the wronged, who the wronger.” + </pre> + <p> + Privately he had spoken thus, but before the world he had given way to no + impulse, in silence finding safety from the temptation to diplomatic + evasion. Looking back over five years, he felt now that the sum of his + accomplishment had been small. + </p> + <p> + He did not realise the truth. When his hand was almost upon the object for + which he had toiled and striven—whether pacifying a tribe, meeting a + loan by honest means, building a barrage, irrigating the land, financing a + new industry, or experimenting in cotton—it suddenly eluded him. + Nahoum had snatched it away by subterranean wires. On such occasions + Nahoum would shrug his shoulders, and say with a sigh, “Ah, my friend, let + us begin again. We are both young; time is with us; and we will flourish + palms in the face of Europe yet. We have our course set by a bright star. + We will continue.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, withal, David was the true altruist. Even now as he walked this road + which led to his old home, dear to him beyond all else, his thoughts kept + flying to the Nile and to the desert. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stopped. He was at the cross-roads. Here he had met Kate + Heaver, here he had shamed his neighbours—and begun his work in + life. He stood for a moment, smiling, as he looked at the stone where he + had sat those years ago, his hand feeling instinctively for his flute. + Presently he turned to the dusty road again. + </p> + <p> + Walking quickly away, he swung into the path of the wood which would bring + him by a short cut to Hamley, past Soolsby’s cottage. Here was the old + peace, the old joy of solitude among the healing trees. Experience had + broadened his life, had given him a vast theatre of work; but the smell of + the woods, the touch of the turf, the whispering of the trees, the song of + the birds, had the ancient entry to his heart. + </p> + <p> + At last he emerged on the hill where Soolsby lived. He had not meant, if + he could help it, to speak to any one until he had entered the garden of + the Red Mansion, but he had inadvertently come upon this place where he + had spent the most momentous days of his life, and a feeling stronger than + he cared to resist drew him to the open doorway. The afternoon sun was + beating in over the threshold as he reached it, and, at his footstep, a + figure started forward from the shadow of a corner. + </p> + <p> + It was Kate Heaver. + </p> + <p> + Surprise, then pain showed in her face; she flushed, was agitated. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry. It’s too bad—it’s hard on him you should see,” she said + in a breath, and turned her head away for an instant; but presently looked + him in the face again, all trembling and eager. “He’ll be sorry enough + to-morrow,” she added solicitously, and drew away from something, she had + been trying to hide. + </p> + <p> + Then David saw. On a bench against a wall lay old Soolsby—drunk. A + cloud passed across his face and left it pale. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said simply, and went over and touched the heaving + shoulders reflectively. “Poor Soolsby!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s been sober four years—over four,” she said eagerly. “When he + knew you’d come again, he got wild, and he would have the drink in spite + of all. Walking from Heddington, I saw him at the tavern, and brought him + home.” + </p> + <p> + “At the tavern—” David said reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “The Fox and Goose, sir.” She turned her face away again, and David’s head + came up with a quick motion. There it was, five years ago, that he had + drunk at the bar, and had fought Jasper Kimber. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” he said again, and listened to Soolsby’s stertorous + breathing, as a physician looks at a patient whose case he cannot control, + does not wholly understand. + </p> + <p> + The hand of the sleeping man was suddenly raised, his head gave a jerk, + and he said mumblingly: “Claridge for ever!” + </p> + <p> + Kate nervously intervened. “It fair beat him, your coming back, sir. It’s + awful temptation, the drink. I lived in it for years, and it’s cruel hard + to fight it when you’re worked up either way, sorrow or joy. There’s a + real pleasure in being drunk, I’m sure. While it lasts you’re rich, and + you’re young, and you don’t care what happens. It’s kind of you to take it + like this, sir, seeing you’ve never been tempted and mightn’t understand.” + David shook his head sadly, and looked at Soolsby in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose he took a quarter what he used to take, but it made him + drunk. ‘Twas but a minute of madness. You’ve saved him right enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not blaming him. I understand—I understand.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her clearly. She was healthy and fine-looking, with large, + eloquent eyes. Her dress was severe and quiet, as became her occupation—a + plain, dark grey, but the shapely fulness of the figure gave softness to + the outlines. It was no wonder Jasper Kimber wished to marry her; and, if + he did, the future of the man was sure. She had a temperament which might + have made her an adventuress—or an opera-singer. She had been + touched in time, and she had never looked back. + </p> + <p> + “You are with Lady Eglington now, I have heard?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It was hard for you in London at first?” + </p> + <p> + She met his look steadily. “It was easy in a way. I could see round me + what was the right thing to do. Oh, that was what was so awful in the old + life over there at Heddington,”—she pointed beyond the hill, “we + didn’t know what was good and what was bad. The poor people in big + working-places like Heddington ain’t much better than heathens, leastways + as to most things that matter. They haven’t got a sensible religion, not + one that gets down into what they do. The parson doesn’t reach them—he + talks about church and the sacraments, and they don’t get at what good + it’s going to do them. And the chapel preachers ain’t much better. They + talk and sing and pray, when what the people want is light, and hot water, + and soap, and being shown how to live, and how to bring up children + healthy and strong, and decent-cooked food. I’d have food-hospitals if I + could, and I’d give the children in the schools one good meal a day. I’m + sure the children of the poor go wrong and bad more through the way they + live than anything. If only they was taught right—not as though they + was paupers! Give me enough nurses of the right sort, and enough good, + plain cooks, and meat three times a week, and milk and bread and rice and + porridge every day, and I’d make a new place of any town in England in a + year. I’d—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped all at once, however, and flushing, said: “I didn’t stop to + think I was talking to you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you speak to me so,” he answered gently. “You and I are both + reformers at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? I’ve done nothing, sir, not any good to anybody or anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to Jasper Kimber?” + </p> + <p> + “You did that, sir; he says so; he says you made him.” + </p> + <p> + A quick laugh passed David’s lips. “Men are not made so easily. I think I + know the trowel and the mortar that built that wall! Thee will marry him, + friend?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes burned as she looked at him. She had been eternally dispossessed + of what every woman has the right to have—one memory possessing the + elements of beauty. Even if it remain but for the moment, yet that moment + is hers by right of her sex, which is denied the wider rights of those + they love and serve. She had tasted the cup of bitterness and drunk of the + waters of sacrifice. Married life had no lure for her. She wanted none of + it. The seed of service had, however, taken root in a nature full of fire + and light and power, undisciplined and undeveloped as it was. She wished + to do something—the spirit of toil, the first habit of the life of + the poor, the natural medium for the good that may be in them, had + possession of her. + </p> + <p> + This man was to her the symbol of work. To have cared for his home, to + have looked after his daily needs, to have sheltered him humbly from + little things, would have been her one true happiness. And this was denied + her. Had she been a man, it would have been so easy. She could have + offered to be his servant; could have done those things which she could do + better than any, since hers would be a heart-service. + </p> + <p> + But even as she looked at him now, she had a flash of insight and + prescience. She had, from little things said or done, from newspapers + marked and a hundred small indications, made up her mind that her + mistress’s mind dwelt much upon “the Egyptian.” The thought flashed now + that she might serve this man, after all; that a day might come when she + could say that she had played a part in his happiness, in return for all + he had done for her. Life had its chances—and strange things had + happened. In her own mind she had decided that her mistress was not happy, + and who could tell what might happen? Men did not live for ever! The + thought came and went, but it left behind a determination to answer David + as she felt. + </p> + <p> + “I will not marry Jasper,” she answered slowly. “I want work, not + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “There would be both,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “With women there is the one or the other, not both.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee could help him. He has done credit to himself, and he can do good + work for England. Thee can help him.” + </p> + <p> + “I want work alone, not marriage, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He would pay thee his debt.” + </p> + <p> + “He owes me nothing. What happened was no fault of his, but of the life we + were born in. He tired of me, and left me. Husbands tire of their wives, + but stay on and beat them.” + </p> + <p> + “He drove thee mad almost, I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Wives go mad and are never cured, so many of them. I’ve seen them die, + poor things, and leave the little ones behind. I had the luck wi’ me. I + took the right turning at the cross-roads yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee must be Jasper’s wife if he asks thee again,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “He will come when I call, but I will not call,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “But still thee will marry him when the heart is ready,” he persisted. “It + shall be ready soon. He needs thee. Good-bye, friend. Leave Soolsby alone. + He will be safe. And do not tell him that I have seen him so.” He stooped + over and touched the old man’s shoulder gently. + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand to her. She took it, then suddenly leaned over and + kissed it. She could not speak. + </p> + <p> + He stepped to the door and looked out. Behind the Red Mansion the sun was + setting, and the far garden looked cool and sweet. He gave a happy sigh, + and stepped out and down. + </p> + <p> + As he disappeared, the woman dropped into a chair, her arms upon a table. + Her body shook with sobs. She sat there for an hour, and then, when the + sun was setting, she left the drunken man sleeping, and made her way down + the hill to the Cloistered House. Entering, she was summoned to her + mistress’s room. “I did not expect my lady so soon,” she said, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “No; we came sooner than we expected. Where have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “At Soolsby’s hut on the hill, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + Kate told her all she knew, and of what had happened that afternoon—but + not all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. “THERE IS NOTHING HIDDEN WHICH SHALL NOT BE REVEALED” + </h2> + <p> + A fortnight had passed since they had come to Hamley—David, + Eglington, and Hylda—and they had all travelled a long distance in + mutual understanding during that time, too far, thought Luke Claridge, who + remained neutral and silent. He would not let Faith go to the Cloistered + House, though he made no protest against David going; because he + recognised in these visits the duty of diplomacy and the business of the + nation—more particularly David’s business, which, in his eyes, + swallowed all. Three times David had gone to the Cloistered House; once + Hylda and he had met in the road leading to the old mill, and once at + Soolsby’s hut. Twice, also, in the garden of his old home he had seen her, + when she came to visit Faith, who had captured her heart at once. + Eglington and Faith had not met, however. He was either busy in his + laboratory, or with his books, or riding over the common and through the + woods, and their courses lay apart. + </p> + <p> + But there came an afternoon when Hylda and David were a long hour together + at the Cloistered House. They talked freely of his work in Egypt. At last + she said: “And Nahoum Pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “He has kept faith.” + </p> + <p> + “He is in high place again?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a good administrator.” + </p> + <p> + “You put him there!” + </p> + <p> + “Thee remembers what I said to him, that night in Cairo?” + </p> + <p> + Hylda closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. Had there been a word + spoken that night when she and David and Nahoum met which had not bitten + into her soul! That David had done so much in Egypt without ruin or death + was a tribute to his power. Nevertheless, though Nahoum had not struck + yet, she was certain he would one day. All that David now told her of the + vicissitudes of his plans, and Nahoum’s sympathy and help, only deepened + this conviction. She could well believe that Nahoum gave David money from + his own pocket, which he replaced by extortion from other sources, while + gaining credit with David for co-operation. Armenian Christian Nahoum + might be, but he was ranged with the East against the West, with the + reactionary and corrupt against advance, against civilisation and freedom + and equality. Nahoum’s Christianity was permeated with Orientalism, the + Christian belief obscured by the theism of the Muslim. David was in a + deadlier struggle than he knew. Yet it could serve no good end to attempt + to warn him now. He had outlived peril so far; might it not be that, after + all, he would win? + </p> + <p> + So far she had avoided Nahoum’s name in talks with David. She could + scarcely tell why she did, save that it opened a door better closed, as it + were; but the restraint had given way at last. + </p> + <p> + “Thee remembers what I said that night?” David repeated slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I remember—I understand. You devise your course and you never + change. It is like building on a rock. That is why nothing happens to you + as bad as might happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing bad ever happens to me.” + </p> + <p> + “The philosophy of the desert,” she commented smiling. “You are living in + the desert even when you are here. This is a dream; the desert and Egypt + only are real. + </p> + <p> + “That is true, I think. I seem sometimes like a sojourner here, like a + spirit ‘revisiting the scenes of life and time.’” He laughed boyishly. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are happy here. I understand now why and how you are what you + are. Even I that have been here so short a time feel the influence upon + me. I breathe an air that, somehow, seems a native air. The spirit of my + Quaker grandmother revives in me. Sometimes I sit hours thinking, scarcely + stirring; and I believe I know now how people might speak to each other + without words. Your Uncle Benn and you—it was so with you, was it + not? You heard his voice speaking to you sometimes; you understood what he + meant to say to you? You told me so long ago.” + </p> + <p> + David inclined his head. “I heard him speak as one might speak through a + closed door. Sometimes, too, in the desert I have heard Faith speak to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “And your grandfather?” + </p> + <p> + “Never my grandfather—never. It would seem as though, in my + thoughts, I could never reach him; as though masses of opaque things lay + between. Yet he and I—there is love between us. I don’t know why I + never hear him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me of your childhood, of your mother. I have seen her grave under + the ash by the Meeting-house, but I want to know of her from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has not Faith told you?” + </p> + <p> + “We have only talked of the present. I could not ask her; but I can ask + you. I want to know of your mother and you together.” + </p> + <p> + “We were never together. When I opened my eyes she closed hers. It was so + little to get for the life she gave. See, was it not a good face?” He drew + from his pocket a little locket which Faith had given him years ago, and + opened it before her. + </p> + <p> + Hylda looked long. “She was exquisite,” she said, “exquisite.” + </p> + <p> + “My father I never knew either. He was a captain of a merchant ship. He + married her secretly while she was staying with an aunt at Portsmouth. He + sailed away, my mother told my grandfather all, and he brought her home + here. The marriage was regular, of course, but my grandfather, after + announcing it, and bringing it before the Elders, declared that she should + never see her husband again. She never did, for she died a few months + after, when I came, and my father died very soon, also. I never saw him, + and I do not know if he ever tried to see me. I never had any feeling + about it. My grandfather was the only father I ever knew, and Faith, who + was born a year before me, became like a sister to me, though she soon + made other pretensions!” He laughed again, almost happily. “To gain an end + she exercised authority as my aunt!” + </p> + <p> + “What was your father’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Fetherdon—James Fetherdon.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetherdon—James Fetherdon!” Involuntarily Hylda repeated the name + after him. Where had she heard the name before—or where had she seen + it? It kept flashing before her eyes. Where had she seen it? For days she + had been rummaging among old papers in the library of the Cloistered + House, and in an old box full of correspondence and papers of the late + countess, who had died suddenly. Was it among them that she had seen the + name? She could not tell. It was all vague, but that she had seen it or + heard it she was sure. + </p> + <p> + “Your father’s people, you never knew them?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “Nor of them. Here was my home—I had no desire to + discover them. We draw in upon ourselves here.” + </p> + <p> + “There is great force in such a life and such a people,” she answered. “If + the same concentration of mind could be carried into the wide life of the + world, we might revolutionise civilisation; or vitalise and advance it, I + mean—as you are doing in Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing in Egypt. I have sounded the bugle—I have not + had my fight.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true in a sense,” she replied. “Your real struggle is before you. + I do not know why I say it, but I do say it; I feel it. Something here”—she + pressed her hand to her heart—“something here tells me that your day + of battle is yet to come.” Her eyes were brimming and full of excitement. + “We must all help you.” She gained courage with each word. “You must not + fight alone. You work for civilisation; you must have civilisation behind + you.” Her hands clasped nervously; there was a catch in her throat. “You + remember then, that I said I would call to you one day, as your Uncle Benn + did, and you should hear and answer me. It shall not be that I will call. + You—you will call, and I will help you if I can. I will help, no + matter what may seem to prevent, if there is anything I can do. I, surely + I, of all the world owe it to you to do what I can, always. + </p> + <p> + “I owe so much—you did so much. Oh, how it haunts me! Sometimes in + the night I wake with a start and see it all—all!” + </p> + <p> + The flood which had been dyked back these years past had broken loose in + her heart. + </p> + <p> + Out of the stir and sweep of social life and duty, of official and + political ambition-heart-hungry, for she had no child; heart-lonely, + though she had scarce recognised it in the duties and excitements round + her—she had floated suddenly into this backwater of a motionless + life in Hamley. Its quiet had settled upon her, the shackles of her spirit + had been loosed, and dropped from her; she had suddenly bathed her heart + and soul in a freer atmosphere than they had ever known before. And David + and Hamley had come together. The old impulses, dominated by a divine + altruism, were swinging her out upon a course leading she knew not, reeked + not, whither—for the moment reeked not. This man’s career, the work + he was set to do, the ideal before him, the vision of a land redeemed, + captured her, carried her panting into a resolve which, however she might + modify her speech or action, must be an influence in her life hereafter. + Must the penance and the redemption be his only? This life he lived had + come from what had happened to her and to him in Egypt. In a deep sense + her life was linked with his. + </p> + <p> + In a flash David now felt the deep significance of their relations. A + curtain seemed suddenly to have been drawn aside. He was blinded for a + moment. Her sympathy, her desire to help, gave him a new sense of hope and + confidence, but—but there was no room in his crusade for any woman; + the dear egotism of a life-dream was masterful in him, possessed him. + </p> + <p> + Yet, if ever his heart might have dwelt upon a woman with thought of the + future, this being before him—he drew himself up with a start!... He + was going to Egypt again in a few days; they might probably never meet + again—would not, no doubt—should not. He had pressed her + husband to go to Egypt, but now he would not encourage it; he must “finish + his journey alone.” + </p> + <p> + He looked again in her eyes, and their light and beauty held him. His own + eyes swam. The exaltation of a great idea was upon them, was a bond of + fate between them. It was a moment of peril not fully realised by either. + David did realise, however, that she was beautiful beyond all women he had + ever seen—or was he now for the first time really aware of the + beauty of woman? She had an expression, a light of eye and face, finely + alluring beyond mere outline of feature. Yet the features were there, too, + regular and fine; and her brown hair waving away from her broad, white + forehead over eyes a greyish violet in colour gave her a classic + distinction. In the quietness of the face there was that strain of the + Quaker, descending to her through three generations, yet enlivened by a + mind of impulse and genius. + </p> + <p> + They stood looking at each other for a moment, in which both had taken a + long step forward in life’s experience. But presently his eyes looked + beyond her, as though at something that fascinated them. + </p> + <p> + “Of what are you thinking? What do you see?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You, leaving the garden of my house in Cairo, I standing by the fire,” he + answered, closing his eyes for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I saw also,” she said breathlessly. “It is what I saw and was + thinking of that instant.” When, as though she must break away from the + cords of feeling drawing her nearer and nearer to him, she said, with a + little laugh, “Tell me again of my Chicago cousin? I have not had a letter + for a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Lacey, he is with me always. I should have done little had it not been + for him. He has remarkable resource; he is never cast down. He has but one + fault.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “He is no respecter of persons. His humour cuts deep. He has a wide heart + for your sex. When leaving the court of the King of Abyssinia he said to + his Majesty: ‘Well, good-bye, King. Give my love to the girls.’” + </p> + <p> + She laughed again. “How absurd and childish he is! But he is true and + able. And how glad you should be that you are able to make true friends, + without an effort. Yesterday I met neighbour Fairley, and another little + old Elder who keeps his chin in his collar and his eyes on the sky. They + did little else but sing your praises. One might have thought that you had + invented the world-or Hamley.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet they would chafe if I were to appear among them without these.” He + glanced down at the Quaker clothes he wore, and made a gesture towards the + broadbrimmed hat reposing on a footstool near by. + </p> + <p> + “It is good to see that you are not changed, not spoiled at all,” she + remarked, smiling. “Though, indeed, how could you be, who always work for + others and never for yourself? All I envy you is your friends. You make + them and keep them so.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, and a shadow came into her eyes suddenly. She was thinking of + Eglington. Did he make friends—true friends? In London—was + there one she knew who would cleave to him for love of him? In England—had + she ever seen one? In Hamley, where his people had been for so many + generations, had she found one? + </p> + <p> + Herself? Yes, she was his true friend. She would do what would she not do + to help him, to serve his interests? What had she not done since she + married Her fortune, it was his; her every waking hour had been filled + with something devised to help him on his way. Had he ever said to her: + “Hylda, you are a help to me”? He had admired her—but was he + singular in that? Before she married there were many—since, there + had been many—who had shown, some with tact and carefulness, others + with a crudeness making her shudder, that they admired her; and, if they + might, would have given their admiration another name with other + manifestations. Had she repelled it all? She had been too sure of herself + to draw her skirts about her; she was too proud to let any man put her at + any disadvantage. She had been safe, because her heart had been untouched. + The Duchess of Snowdon, once beautiful, but now with a face like a mask, + enamelled and rouged and lifeless, had said to her once: “My dear, I ought + to have died at thirty. When I was twenty-three I wanted to squeeze the + orange dry in a handful of years, and then go out suddenly, and let the + dust of forgetfulness cover my bones. I had one child, a boy, and would + have no more; and I squeezed the orange! But I didn’t go at thirty, and + yet the orange was dry. My boy died; and you see what I am—a fright, + I know it; and I dress like a child of twenty; and I can’t help it.” + </p> + <p> + There had been moments, once, when Hylda, too, had wished to squeeze the + orange dry, but something behind, calling to her, had held her back. She + had dropped her anchor in perilous seas, but it had never dragged. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how to make friends—and keep them,” she added gaily. + </p> + <p> + “If it be true I make friends, thee taught me how,” he answered, “for thee + made me a friend, and I forget not the lesson.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “Thee has learnt another lesson too well,” she answered + brightly. “Thee must not flatter. It is not that which makes thee keep + friends. Thee sees I also am speaking as they do in Hamley—am I not + bold? I love the grammarless speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Then use it freely to-day, for this is farewell,” he answered, not + looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “This—is—farewell,” she said slowly, vaguely. Why should it + startle her so? “You are going so soon—where?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow to London, next week to Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + She laid a hand upon herself, for her heart was beating violently. “Thee + is not fair to give no warning—there is so much to say,” she said, + in so low a tone that he could scarcely hear her. “There is the future, + your work, what we are to do here to help. What I am to do. + </p> + <p> + “Thee will always be a friend to Egypt, I know,” he answered. “She needs + friends. Thee has a place where thee can help.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not right be done without my voice?” she asked, her eyes half + closing. “There is the Foreign Office, and English policy, and the + ministers, and—and Eglington. What need of me?” + </p> + <p> + He saw the thought had flashed into her mind that he did not trust her + husband. “Thee knows and cares for Egypt, and knowing and caring make + policy easier to frame,” he rejoined. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a wave of feeling went over her. He whose life had been flung + into this field of labour by an act of her own, who should help him but + herself? + </p> + <p> + But it all baffled her, hurt her, shook her. She was not free to help as + she wished. Her life belonged to another; and he exacted the payment of + tribute to the uttermost farthing. She was blinded by the thought. Yet she + must speak. “I will come to Egypt—we will come to Egypt,” she said + quickly. “Eglington shall know, too; he shall understand. You shall have + his help. You shall not work alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee can work here,” he said. “It may not be easy for Lord Eglington to + come.” + </p> + <p> + “You pressed it on him.” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. She suddenly saw what was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “You know best what will help you most,” she added gently. + </p> + <p> + “You will not come?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I will not say I will not come—not ever,” she answered firmly. “It + may be I should have to come.” Resolution was in her eyes. She was + thinking of Nahoum. “I may have to come,” she added after a pause, “to do + right by you.” + </p> + <p> + He read her meaning. “Thee will never come,” he continued confidently. He + held out his hand. “Perhaps I shall see you in town,” she rejoined, as her + hand rested in his, and she looked away. “When do you start for Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow week, I think,” he answered. “There is much to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we shall meet in town,” she repeated. But they both knew they + would not. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” he said, and picked up his hat. + </p> + <p> + As he turned again, the look in her eyes brought the blood to his face, + then it became pale. A new force had come into his life. + </p> + <p> + “God be good to thee,” he said, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + She watched him leave the room and pass through the garden. + </p> + <p> + “David! David!” she said softly after him. + </p> + <p> + At the other end of the room her husband, who had just entered, watched + her. He heard her voice, but did not hear what she said. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Hylda, and have some music,” he said brusquely. + </p> + <p> + She scrutinised him calmly. His face showed nothing. His look was + enigmatical. + </p> + <p> + “Chopin is the thing for me,” he said, and opened the piano. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. AS IN A GLASS DARKLY + </h2> + <p> + It was very quiet and cool in the Quaker Meeting-house, though outside + there was the rustle of leaves, the low din of the bees, the whistle of a + bird, or the even tread of horses’ hoofs as they journeyed on the London + road. The place was full. For a half-hour the worshippers had sat + voiceless. They were waiting for the spirit to move some one to speak. As + they waited, a lady entered and glided into a seat. Few saw, and these + gave no indication of surprise, though they were little used to strangers, + and none of the name borne by this lady had entered the building for many + years. It was Hylda. + </p> + <p> + At last the silence was broken. The wizened Elder, with eyes upon the + ceiling and his long white chin like ivory on his great collar, began to + pray, sitting where he was, his hands upon his knees. He prayed for all + who wandered “into by and forbidden paths.” He prayed for one whose work + was as that of Joseph, son of Jacob; whose footsteps were now upon the + sea, and now upon the desert; whose way was set among strange gods and + divers heresies—“‘For there must also be heresies, that they which + are approved may be made manifest among the weak.’” A moment more, and + then he added: “He hath been tried beyond his years; do Thou uphold his + hands. Once with a goad did we urge him on, when in ease and sloth he was + among us, but now he spurreth on his spirit and body in too great haste. O + put Thy hand upon the bridle, Lord, that He ride soberly upon Thy + business.” + </p> + <p> + There was a longer silence now, but at last came the voice of Luke + Claridge. + </p> + <p> + “Father of the fatherless,” he said, “my days are as the sands in the + hour-glass hastening to their rest; and my place will soon be empty. He + goeth far, and I may not go with him. He fighteth alone, like him that + strove with wild beasts at Ephesus; do Thou uphold him that he may bring a + nation captive. And if a viper fasten on his hand, as chanced to Paul of + old, give him grace to strike it off without hurt. O Lord, he is to me, + Thy servant, as the one ewe lamb; let him be Thine when Thou gatherest for + Thy vineyard!” + </p> + <p> + “And if a viper fasten on his hand—” David passed his hand across + his forehead and closed his eyes. The beasts at Ephesus he had fought, and + he would fight them again—there was fighting enough to do in the + land of Egypt. And the viper would fasten on his hand—it had + fastened on his hand, and he had struck it off; but it would come again, + the dark thing against which he had fought in the desert. + </p> + <p> + Their prayers had unnerved him, had got into that corner of his nature + where youth and its irresponsibility loitered yet. For a moment he was + shaken, and then, looking into the faces of the Elders, said: “Friends, I + go again upon paths that lead into the wilderness. I know not if I ever + shall return. Howsoe’er that may be, I shall walk with firmer step because + of all ye do for me.” + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes and prayed: “O God, I go into the land of ancient + plagues and present pestilence. If it be Thy will, bring me home to this + good land, when my task is done. If not, by Thy goodness let me be as a + stone set by the wayside for others who come after; and save me from the + beast and from the viper. ‘Thou art faithful, who wilt not suffer us to be + tempted above that we are able; but wilt with the temptation also make a + way of escape, that we may be able to bear it!’” + </p> + <p> + He sat down, and all grew silent again; but suddenly some one sobbed + aloud-sobbed, and strove to stay the sobbing, and could not, and, getting + up, hastened towards the door. + </p> + <p> + It was Faith. David heard, and came quickly after her. As he took her arm + gently, his eyes met those of Hylda. She rose and came out also. + </p> + <p> + “Will thee take her home?” he said huskily. “I can bear no more.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda placed her arm round Faith, and led her out under the trees and into + the wood. As they went, Faith looked back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Davy,” she said softly. + </p> + <p> + Three lights burned in Hamley: one in the Red Mansion, one in the + Cloistered House, and one in Soolsby’s hut upon the hill. In the Red + Mansion old Luke Claridge, his face pale with feeling, his white hair + tumbling about, his head thrust forward, his eyes shining, sat listening, + as Faith read aloud letters which Benn Claridge had written from the East + many years before. One letter, written from Bagdad, he made her read + twice. The faded sheet had in it the glow and glamour of the East; it was + like a heart beating with life; emotion rose and fell in it like the waves + of the sea. Once the old man interrupted Faith. + </p> + <p> + “Davy—it is as though Davy spoke. It is like Davy—both + Claridge, both Claridge,” he said. “But is it not like Davy? Davy is doing + what it was in Benn’s heart to do. Benn showed the way; Benn called, and + Davy came.” + </p> + <p> + He laid both hands upon his knees and raised his eyes. “O Lord, I have + sought to do according to Thy will,” he whispered. He was thinking of a + thing he had long hidden. Through many years he had no doubt, no qualm; + but, since David had gone to Egypt, some spirit of unquiet had worked in + him. He had acted against the prayer of his own wife, lying in her grave—a + quiet-faced woman, who had never crossed him, who had never shown a note + of passion in all her life, save in one thing concerning David. Upon it, + like some prophetess, she had flamed out. With the insight which only + women have where children are concerned, she had told him that he would + live to repent of what he had done. She had died soon after, and was laid + beside the deserted young mother, whose days had budded and blossomed, and + fallen like petals to the ground, while yet it was the spring. + </p> + <p> + Luke Claridge had understood neither, not his wife when she had said: + “Thee should let the Lord do His own work, Luke,” nor his dying daughter + Mercy, whose last words had been: “With love and sorrow I have sowed; he + shall reap rejoicing—my babe. Thee will set him in the garden in the + sun, where God may find him—God will not pass him by. He will take + him by the hand and lead him home.” The old man had thought her touched by + delirium then, though her words were but the parable of a mind fed by the + poetry of life, by a shy spirit, to which meditation gave fancy and + farseeing. David had come by his idealism honestly. The half-mystical + spirit of his Uncle Benn had flowed on to another generation through the + filter of a woman’s sad soul. It had come to David a pure force, a + constructive and practical idealism. + </p> + <p> + Now, as Faith read, there were ringing in the old man’s ears the words + which David’s mother had said before she closed her eyes and passed away: + “Set him in the garden in the sun, where God may find him—God will + not pass him by.” They seemed to weave themselves into the symbolism of + Benn Claridge’s letter, written from the hills of Bagdad. + </p> + <p> + “But,” the letter continued, “the Governor passed by with his suite, the + buckles of the harness of his horses all silver, his carriage shining with + inlay of gold, his turban full of precious stones. When he had passed, I + said to a shepherd standing by, ‘If thou hadst all his wealth, shepherd, + what wouldst thou do?’ and he answered, ‘If I had his wealth, I would sit + on the south side of my house in the sun all day and every day.’ To a + messenger of the Palace, who must ever be ready night and day to run at + his master’s order, I asked the same. He replied, ‘If I had all the + Effendina’s wealth, I would sleep till I died.’ To a blind beggar, shaking + the copper in his cup in the highways, pleading dumbly to those who + passed, I made similar inquisition, and he replied ‘If the wealth of the + exalted one were mine, I would sit on the mastaba by the bake-house, and + eat three times a day, save at Ramadan, when I would bless Allah the + compassionate and merciful, and breakfast at sunset with the flesh of a + kid and a dish of dates.’ To a woman at the door of a tomb hung with + relics of hundreds of poor souls in misery, who besought the buried saint + to intercede for her with Allah, I made the same catechism, and she + answered, ‘Oh, effendi, if his wealth were mine, I would give my son what + he has lost.’ ‘What has he lost, woman?’ said I; and she answered: ‘A + little house with a garden, and a flock of ten goats, a cow and a + dovecote, his inheritance of which he has been despoiled by one who + carried a false debt ‘gainst his dead father.’ And I said to her: ‘But if + thy wealth were as that of the ruler of the city, thy son would have no + need of the little house and garden and the flock of goats, and a cow and + a dovecote.’ Whereupon she turned upon me in bitterness, and said: ‘Were + they not his own as the seed of his father? Shall not one cherish that + which is his own, which cometh from seed to seed? Is it not the law?’ + ‘But,’ said I, ‘if his wealth were thine, there would be herds of cattle, + and flocks of sheep, and carpets spread, and the banquet-tables, and great + orchards.’ But she stubbornly shook her head. ‘Where the eagle built shall + not the young eagle nest? How should God meet me in the way and bless him + who stood not by his birth right? The plot of ground was the lad’s, and + all that is thereon. I pray thee, mock me not.’ God knows I did not mock + her, for her words were wisdom. So did it work upon me that, after many + days, I got for the lad his own again, and there he is happier, and his + mother happier, than the Governor in his palace. Later I did learn some + truths from the shepherd, the messenger, and the beggar, and the woman + with the child; but chiefly from the woman and the child. The material + value has no relation to the value each sets upon that which is his own. + Behind this feeling lies the strength of the world. Here on this hill of + Bagdad I am thinking these things. And, Luke, I would have thee also think + on my story of the woman and the child. There is in it a lesson for thee.” + </p> + <p> + When Luke Claridge first read this letter years before, he had put it from + him sternly. Now he heard it with a soft emotion. He took the letter from + Faith at last and put it in his pocket. With no apparent relevancy, and + laying his hand on Faith’s shoulder, he said: + </p> + <p> + “We have done according to our conscience by Davy—God is our + witness, so!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned her cheek against his hand, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + In Soolsby’s hut upon the hill David sat talking to the old chair-maker. + Since his return he had visited the place several times, only to find + Soolsby absent. The old man, on awaking from his drunken sleep, had been + visited by a terrible remorse, and, whenever he had seen David coming, had + fled into the woods. This evening, however, David came in the dark, and + Soolsby was caught. + </p> + <p> + When David entered first, the old man broke down. He could not speak, but + leaned upon the back of a chair, and though his lips moved, no sound came + forth. But David took him by the shoulders and set him down, and laughed + gently in his face, and at last Soolsby got voice and said: + </p> + <p> + “Egyptian! O Egyptian!” + </p> + <p> + Then his tongue was loosened and his eye glistened, and he poured out + question after question, many pertinent, some whimsical, all frankly + answered by David. But suddenly he stopped short, and his eyes sank before + the other, who had laid a hand upon his knee. + </p> + <p> + “But don’t, Egyptian, don’t! Don’t have aught to do with me. I’m only a + drunken swine. I kept sober four years, as she knows—as the Angel + down yonder in the Red Mansion knows; but the day you came, going out to + meet you, I got drunk—blind drunk. I had only been pretending all + the time. I was being coaxed along—made believe I was a real man, I + suppose. But I wasn’t. I was a pillar of sand. When pressure came I just + broke down—broke down, Egyptian. Don’t be surprised if you hear me + grunt. It’s my natural speech. I’m a hog, a drink-swilling hog. I wasn’t + decent enough to stay sober till you had said ‘Good day,’ and ‘How goes + it, Soolsby?’ I tried it on; it was no good. I began to live like a man, + but I’ve slipped back into the ditch. You didn’t know that, did you?” + </p> + <p> + David let him have his say, and then in a low voice said: “Yes, I knew + thee had been drinking, Soolsby.” He started. “She told you—Kate + Heaver—” + </p> + <p> + “She did not tell me. I came and found you here with her. You were + asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “A drunken sweep!” He spat upon the ground in disgust at himself. + </p> + <p> + “I ought never have comeback here,” he added. “It was no place for me. But + it drew me. I didn’t belong; but it drew me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee belongs to Hamley. Thee is an honour to Hamley, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby’s eyes widened; the blurred look of rage and self-reproach in them + began to fade away. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has made a fight, Soolsby, to conquer a thing that has had thee by + the throat. There’s no fighting like it. It means a watching every hour, + every minute—thee can never take the eye off it. Some days it’s + easy, some days it’s hard, but it’s never so easy that you can say, ‘There + is no need to watch.’ In sleep it whispers and wakes you; in the morning, + when there are no shadows, it casts a shadow on the path. It comes between + you and your work; you see it looking out of the eyes of a friend. And one + day, when you think it has been conquered, that you have worn it down into + oblivion and the dust, and you close your eyes and say, ‘I am master,’ up + it springs with fury from nowhere you can see, and catches you by the + throat; and the fight begins again. But you sit stronger, and the fight + becomes shorter; and after many battles, and you have learned never to be + off guard, to know by instinct where every ambush is, then at last the + victory is yours. It is hard, it is bitter, and sometimes it seems hardly + worth the struggle. But it is—it is worth the struggle, dear old + man.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby dropped on his knees and caught David by the arms. “How did you + know-how did you know?” he asked hoarsely. “It’s been just as you say. + You’ve watched some one fighting?” + </p> + <p> + “I have watched some one fighting—fighting,” answered David clearly, + but his eyes were moist. + </p> + <p> + “With drink, the same as me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, with opium—laudanum.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ve heard that’s worse, that it makes you mad, the wanting it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the man break down like me?” + </p> + <p> + “Only once, but the fight is not yet over with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he—an Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + David inclined his head. “It’s a great thing to have a temptation to + fight, Soolsby. Then we can understand others.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not always true, Egyptian, for you have never had temptation to + fight. Yet you know it all.” + </p> + <p> + “God has been good to me,” David answered, putting a hand on the old man’s + shoulder. “And thee is a credit to Hamley, friend. Thee will never fall + again.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that—you say that to me! Then, by Mary the mother of God, + I never will be a swine again,” he said, getting to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye, Soolsby. I go to-morrow,” David said presently. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby frowned; his lips worked. “When will you come back?” he asked + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + David smiled. “There is so much to do, they may not let me come—not + soon. I am going into the desert again.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby was shaking. He spoke huskily. “Here is your place,” he said. “You + shall come back—Oh, but you shall come back, here, where you + belong.” + </p> + <p> + David shook his head and smiled, and clasped the strong hand again. A + moment later he was gone. From the door of the but Soolsby muttered to + himself: + </p> + <p> + “I will bring you back. If Luke Claridge doesn’t, then I will bring you + back. If he dies, I will bring you—no, by the love of God, I will + bring you back while he lives!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ........................... +</pre> + <p> + Two thousand miles away, in a Nile village, women sat wailing in dark + doorways, dust on their heads, black mantles covering their faces. By the + pond where all the people drank, performed their ablutions, bathed their + bodies and rinsed their mouths, sat the sheikh-el-beled, the village + chief, taking counsel in sorrow with the barber, the holy man, and others. + Now speaking, now rocking their bodies to and fro, in the evening + sunlight, they sat and watched the Nile in flood covering the wide wastes + of the Fayoum, spreading over the land rich deposits of earth from the + mountains of Abyssinia. When that flood subsided there would be fields to + be planted with dourha and onions and sugar-cane; but they whose strong + arms should plough and sow and wield the sickle, the youth, the upstanding + ones, had been carried off in chains to serve in the army of Egypt, + destined for the far Soudan, for hardship, misery, and death, never to see + their kindred any more. Twice during three months had the dread servant of + the Palace come and driven off their best like sheep to the slaughter. The + brave, the stalwart, the bread-winners, were gone; and yet the + tax-gatherer would come and press for every impost—on the + onion-field, the date-palm, the dourha-field, and the clump of sugar-cane, + as though the young men, the toilers, were still there. The old and + infirm, the children, the women, must now double and treble their labour. + The old men must go to the corvee, and mend the banks of the Nile for the + Prince and his pashas, providing their own food, their own tools, their + own housing, if housing there would be—if it was more than sleeping + under a bush by the riverside, or crawling into a hole in the ground, + their yeleks their clothes by day, their only covering at night. + </p> + <p> + They sat like men without hope, yet with the proud, bitter mien of those + who had known good and had lost it, had seen content and now were + desolate. + </p> + <p> + Presently one—a lad—the youngest of them, lifted up his voice + and began to chant a recitative, while another took a small drum and beat + it in unison. He was but just recovered from an illness, or he had gone + also in chains to die for he knew not what, leaving behind without hope + all that he loved: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How has the cloud fallen, and the leaf withered on the tree, + The lemon-tree, that standeth by the door. + The melon and the date have gone bitter to the taste, + The weevil, it has eaten at the core + The core of my heart, the mildew findeth it. + My music, it is but the drip of tears, + The garner empty standeth, the oven hath no fire, + Night filleth me with fears. + O Nile that floweth deeply, hast thou not heard his voice? + His footsteps hast thou covered with thy flood? + He was as one who lifteth up the yoke, + He was as one who taketh off the chain, + As one who sheltereth from the rain, + As one who scattereth bread to the pigeons flying. + His purse was at his side, his mantle was for me, + For any who passeth were his mantle and his purse, + And now like a gourd is he withered from our eyes. + His friendship, it was like a shady wood + Whither has he gone?—Who shall speak for us? + Who shall save us from the kourbash and the stripes? + Who shall proclaim us in the palace? + Who shall contend for us in the gate? + The sakkia turneth no more; the oxen they are gone; + The young go forth in chains, the old waken in the night, + They waken and weep, for the wheel turns backward, + And the dark days are come again upon us— + Will he return no more? + His friendship was like a shady wood, + O Nile that floweth deeply, hast thou not heard his voice? + Hast thou covered up his footsteps with thy flood? + The core of my heart, the mildew findeth it!” + </pre> + <p> + Another-an old man-took up the strain, as the drum kept time to the beat + of the voice with its undulating call and refrain: + </p> + <p> + “When his footsteps were among us there was peace; War entered not the + village, nor the call of war. Now our homes are as those that have no + roofs. As a nest decayed, as a cave forsaken, As a ship that lieth broken + on the beach, Is the house where we were born. Out in the desert did we + bury our gold, We buried it where no man robbed us, for his arm was + strong. Now are the jars empty, gold did not avail To save our young men, + to keep them from the chains. God hath swallowed his voice, or the sea + hath drowned it, Or the Nile hath covered him with its flood; Else would + he come when our voices call. His word was honey in the prince’s ear Will + he return no more?” + </p> + <p> + And now the sheikh-el-beled spoke. “It hath been so since Nahoum Pasha + passed this way four months agone. He hath changed all. War will not + avail. David Pasha, he will come again. His word is as the centre of the + world. Ye have no hope, because ye see the hawks among the starving sheep. + But the shepherd will return from behind the hill, and the hawks will flee + away. + </p> + <p> + “... Behold, once was I in the desert. Listen, for mine are the words of + one who hath travelled far—was I not at Damascus and Palmyra and + Bagdad, and at Medina by the tomb of Mahomet?” + </p> + <p> + Reverently he touched the green turban on his head, evidence of his + journey to Mahomet’s tomb. “Once in the desert I saw afar off an oasis of + wood and water, and flying things, and houses where a man might rest. And + I got me down from my camel, and knelt upon my sheepskin, and gave thanks + in the name of Allah. Thereupon I mounted again and rode on towards that + goodly place. But as I rode it vanished from my sight. Then did I mourn. + Yet once again I saw the trees, and flocks of pigeons and waving fields, + and I was hungry and thirsty, and longed exceedingly. Yet got I down, and, + upon my sheep-skin, once more gave thanks to Allah. And I mounted + thereafter in haste and rode on; but once again was I mocked. Then I cried + aloud in my despair. It was in my heart to die upon the sheep-skin where I + had prayed; for I was burned up within, and there seemed naught to do but + say malaish, and go hence. But that goodly sight came again. My heart + rebelled that I should be so mocked. I bent down my head upon my camel + that I might not see, yet once more I loosed the sheep-skin. Lifting up my + heart, I looked again, and again I took hope and rode on. Farther and + farther I rode, and lo! I was no longer mocked; for I came to a goodly + place of water and trees, and was saved. So shall it be with us. We have + looked for his coming again, and our hearts have fallen and been as ashes, + for that he has not come. Yet there be mirages, and one day soon David + Pasha will come hither, and our pains shall be eased.” + </p> + <p> + “Aiwa, aiwa—yes, yes,” cried the lad who had sung to them. + </p> + <p> + “Aiwa, aiwa,” rang softly over the pond, where naked children stooped to + drink. + </p> + <p> + The smell of the cooking-pots floated out from the mud-houses near by. + </p> + <p> + “Malaish,” said one after another, “I am hungry. He will come + again-perhaps to-morrow.” So they moved towards the houses over the way. + </p> + <p> + One cursed his woman for wailing in the doorway; one snatched the lid from + a cooking-pot; one drew from an oven cakes of dourha, and gave them to + those who had none; one knelt and bowed his forehead to the ground in + prayer; one shouted the name of him whose coming they desired. + </p> + <p> + So was David missed in Egypt. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE TENTS OF CUSHAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction, and the curtains + of the Land of Midian did tremble.” + </pre> + <p> + A Hurdy-Gurdy was standing at the corner, playing with shrill insistence a + medley of Scottish airs. Now “Loch Lomond” pleaded for pennies from the + upper windows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For you’ll tak’ the high road, + and I’ll tak’ the low road, + And I’ll be in Scotland before ye: + But I and my true love will never meet again, + On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond!” + </pre> + <p> + The hurdy-gurdy was strident and insistent, but for a long time no + response came. At last, however, as the strains of “Loch Lomond” ceased, a + lady appeared on the balcony of a drawing-room, and, leaning over a little + forest of flowers and plants, threw a half-crown to the sorry + street-musician. She watched the grotesque thing trundle away, then + entering the house again, took a ‘cello from the corner of the room and + tuned the instrument tenderly. It was Hylda. + </p> + <p> + Something of the peace of Hamley had followed her to London, but the + poignant pain of it had come also. Like Melisande, she had looked into the + quiet pool of life and had seen her own face, its story and its + foreshadowings. Since then she had been “apart.” She had watched life move + on rather than shared in its movement. Things stood still for her. That + apathy of soul was upon her which follows the inward struggle that + exhausts the throb and fret of inward emotions, leaving the mind dominant, + the will in abeyance. + </p> + <p> + She had become conscious that her fate and future were suspended over a + chasm, as, on the trapeze of a balloon, an adventurous aeronaut hangs + uncertain over the hungry sea, waiting for the coming wind which will + either blow the hazardous vessel to its doom or to safe refuge on the + land. + </p> + <p> + She had not seen David after he left Hamley. Their last words had been + spoken at the Meeting-house, when he gave Faith to her care. That scene + came back to her now, and a flush crept slowly over her face and faded + away again. She was recalling, too, the afternoon of that day when she and + David had parted in the drawing-room of the Cloistered House, and + Eglington had asked her to sing. She thought of the hours with Eglington + that followed, first at the piano and afterwards in the laboratory, where + in his long blue smock he made experiments. Had she not been conscious of + something enigmatical in his gaiety that afternoon, in his cheerful yet + cheerless words, she would have been deeply impressed by his appreciation + of her playing, and his keen reflections on the merits of the composers; + by his still keener attention to his subsequent experiments, and his + amusing comments upon them. But, somehow, that very cheerless cheerfulness + seemed to proclaim him superficial. Though she had no knowledge of + science, she instinctively doubted his earnestness even in this work, + which certainly was not pursued for effect. She had put the feeling from + her, but it kept returning. She felt that in nothing did he touch the + depths. Nothing could possess him wholly; nothing inherent could make him + self-effacing. + </p> + <p> + Yet she wondered, too, if she was right, when she saw his fox-terrier + watching him, ever watching him with his big brown eyes as he buoyantly + worked, and saw him stoop to pat its head. Or was this, after all, mere + animalism, mere superficial vitality, love of health and being? She + shuddered, and shut her eyes, for it came home to her that to him she was + just such a being of health, vitality and comeliness, on a little higher + plane. She put the thought from her, but it had had its birth, and it + would not down. He had immense vitality, he was tireless, and abundant in + work and industry; he went from one thing to another with ease and swiftly + changing eagerness. Was it all mere force—mere man and mind? Was + there no soul behind it? There in the laboratory she had laid her hand on + the terrier, and prayed in her heart that she might understand him for her + own good, her own happiness, and his. Above all else she wanted to love + him truly, and to be loved truly, and duty was to her a daily sacrifice, a + constant memorial. She realised to the full that there lay before her a + long race unilluminated by the sacred lamp which, lighted at the altar, + should still be burning beside the grave. + </p> + <p> + Now, as she thought of him, she kept saying to herself: “We should have + worked out his life together. Work together would have brought peace. He + shuts me out—he shuts me out.” + </p> + <p> + At last she drew the bow across the instrument, once, twice, and then she + began to play, forgetful of the world. She had a contralto voice, and she + sang with a depth of feeling and a delicate form worthy of a professional; + on the piano she was effective and charming, but into the ‘cello she + poured her soul. + </p> + <p> + For quite an hour she played with scarce an interruption. At last, with a + sigh, she laid the instrument against her knee and gazed out of the + window. As she sat lost in her dream—a dream of the desert—a + servant entered with letters. One caught her eye. It was from Egypt—from + her cousin Lacey. Her heart throbbed violently, yet she opened the + official-looking envelope with steady fingers. She would not admit even to + her self that news from the desert could move her so. She began to read + slowly, but presently, with a little cry, she hastened through the pages. + It ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE SOUDAN. + + DEAR LADY COUSIN, + + I’m still not certain how I ought to style you, but I thought I’d + compromise as per above. Anyway, it’s a sure thing that I haven’t + bothered you much with country-cousin letters. I figure, however, + that you’ve put some money in Egypt, so to speak, and what happens + to this sandy-eyed foundling of the Nile you would like to know. So + I’ve studied the only “complete letter-writer” I could find between + the tropic of Capricorn and Khartoum, and this is the contemptible + result, as the dagos in Mexico say. This is a hot place by reason + of the sun that shines above us, and likewise it is hot because of + the niggers that swarm around us. I figure, if we get out of this + portion of the African continent inside our skins, that we will have + put up a pretty good bluff, and pulled off a ticklish proposition. + + It’s a sort of early Christian business. You see, David the Saadat + is great on moral suasion—he’s a master of it; and he’s never + failed yet—not altogether; though there have been minutes by a + stop-watch when I’ve thought it wouldn’t stand the strain. Like the + Mississippi steamboat which was so weak that when the whistle blew + the engines stopped! When those frozen minutes have come to us, + I’ve tried to remember the correct religious etiquette, but I’ve not + had much practise since I stayed with Aunt Melissa, and lived on + skim-milk and early piety. When things were looking as bad as they + did for Dives, “Now I lay me down to sleep,” and “For what we are + about to receive,” was all that I could think of. But the Saadat, + he’s a wonder from Wondertown. With a little stick, or maybe his + flute under his arm, he’ll smile and string these heathen along, + when you’d think they weren’t waiting for anybody. A spear took off + his fez yesterday. He never blinked—he’s a jim-dandy at keeping + cool; and when a hundred mounted heathens made a rush down on him + the other day, spears sticking out like quills on a porcupine—2.5 + on the shell-road the chargers were going—did he stir? Say, he + watched ‘em as if they were playing for his benefit. And sure + enough, he was right. They parted either side of him when they were + ten feet away, and there he was quite safe, a blessing in the storm, + a little rock island in the rapids—but I couldn’t remember a proper + hymn of praise to say. + + There’s no getting away from the fact that he’s got a will or + something, a sort of force different from most of us, or perhaps any + of us. These heathen feel it, and keep their hands off him. They + say he’s mad, but they’ve got great respect for mad people, for they + think that God has got their souls above with Him, and that what’s + left behind on earth is sacred. He talks to’em, too, like a father + in Israel; tells ‘em they must stop buying and selling slaves, and + that if they don’t he will have to punish them! And I sit holding + my sides, for we’re only two white men and forty “friendlies” + altogether, and two revolvers among us; and I’ve got the two! And + they listen to his blarneying, and say, “Aiwa, Saadat! aiwa, + Saadat!” as if he had an army of fifty thousand behind him. + Sometimes I’ve sort of hinted that his canoe was carrying a lot of + sail; but my! he believes in it all as if there wasn’t a spear or a + battle-axe or a rifle within a hundred miles of him. We’ve been at + this for two months now, and a lot of ground we covered till we got + here. I’ve ridden the gentle camel at the rate of sixty and seventy + miles a day—sort of sweeping through the land, making treaties, + giving presents, freeing slaves, appointing governors and sheikhs- + el-beled, doing it as if we owned the continent. He mesmerised ‘em, + simply mesmerised ‘em-till we got here. I don’t know what happened + then. Now we’re distinctly rating low, the laugh is on us somehow. + But he—mind it? He goes about talking to the sheikhs as though we + were all eating off the same corn-cob, and it seems to stupefy them; + they don’t grasp it. He goes on arranging for a post here and a + station there, and it never occurs to him that it ain’t really + actual. He doesn’t tell me, and I don’t ask him, for I came along + to wipe his stirrups, so to speak. I put my money on him, and I’m + not going to worry him. He’s so dead certain in what he does, and + what he is, that I don’t lose any sleep guessing about him. It will + be funny if we do win out on this proposition—funnier than + anything. + + Now, there’s one curious thing about it all which ought to be + whispered, for I’m only guessing, and I’m not a good guesser; I + guessed too much in Mexico about three railways and two silvermines. + The first two days after we came here, everything was all right. + Then there came an Egyptian, Halim Bey, with a handful of niggers + from Cairo, and letters for Claridge Pasha. + + From that minute there was trouble. I figure it out this way: Halim + was sent by Nahoum Pasha to bring letters that said one thing to the + Saadat, and, when quite convenient, to say other things to Mustafa, + the boss-sheikh of this settlement. Halim Bey has gone again, but + he has left his tale behind him. I’d stake all I lost, and more + than I ever expect to get out of Mexico on that, and maybe I’ll get + a hatful out of Mexico yet. I had some good mining propositions + down there. The Saadat believes in Nahoum, and has made Nahoum what + he is; and on the surface Nahoum pretends to help him; but he is + running underground all the time. I’d like to help give him a villa + at Fazougli. When the Saadat was in England there was a bad time in + Egypt. I was in Cairo; I know. It was the same bad old game—the + corvee, the kourbash, conscription, a war manufactured to fill the + pockets of a few, while the poor starved and died. It didn’t come + off, because the Saadat wasn’t gone long enough, and he stopped it + when he came back. But Nahoumhe laid the blame on others, and the + Saadat took his word for it, and, instead of a war, there came this + expedition of his own. + + Ten days later.—Things have happened. First, there’s been awful + sickness among the natives, and the Saadat has had his chance. His + medicine-chest was loaded, he had a special camel for it—and he has + fired it off. Night and day he has worked, never resting, never + sleeping, curing most, burying a few. He looks like a ghost now, + but it’s no use saying or doing anything. He says: “Sink your own + will; let it be subject to a higher, and you need take no thought.” + It’s eating away his life and strength, but it has given us our + return tickets, I guess. They hang about him as if he was Moses in + the wilderness smiting the rock. It’s his luck. Just when I get + scared to death, and run down and want a tonic, and it looks as if + there’d be no need to put out next week’s washing, then his luck + steps in, and we get another run. But it takes a heap out of a man, + getting scared. Whenever I look on a lot of green trees and cattle + and horses, and the sun, to say nothing of women and children, and + listen to music, or feel a horse eating up the ground under me, 2.10 + in the sand, I hate to think of leaving it, and I try to prevent it. + Besides, I don’t like the proposition of going, I don’t know where. + That’s why I get seared. But he says that it’s no more than turning + down the light and turning it up again. They used to call me a + dreamer in Mexico, because I kept seeing things that no one else had + thought of, and laid out railways and tapped mines for the future; + but I was nothing to him. I’m a high-and-dry hedge-clipper + alongside. I’m betting on him all the time; but no one seems to be + working to make his dreams come true, except himself. I don’t + count; I’m no good, no real good. I’m only fit to run the + commissariat, and see that he gets enough to eat, and has a safe + camel, and so on. + + Why doesn’t some one else help him? He’s working for humanity. + Give him half a chance, and Haroun-al-Raschid won’t be in it. Kaid + trusts him, depends on him, stands by him, but doesn’t seem to know + how to help him when help would do most good. The Saadat does it + all himself; and if it wasn’t that the poor devil of a fellah sees + what he’s doing, and cottons to him, and the dervishes and Arabs + feel he’s right, he might as well leave. But it’s just there he + counts. There’s something about him, something that’s Quaker in + him, primitive, silent, and perceptive—if that’s a real word—which + makes them feel that he’s honest, and isn’t after anything for + himself. Arabs don’t talk much; they make each other understand + without many words. They think with all their might on one thing at + a time, and they think things into happening—and so does he. He’s + a thousand years old, which is about as old-fashioned as I mean, and + as wise, and as plain to read as though you’d write the letters of + words as big as a date-palm. That’s where he makes the running with + them, and they can read their title clear to mansions in the skies! + + You should hear him talk with Ebn Ezra Bey—perhaps you don’t know + of Ezra? He was a friend of his Uncle Benn, and brought the news of + his massacre to England, and came back with the Saadat. Well, three + days ago Ebn Ezra came, and there came with him, too, Halim Bey, the + Egyptian, who had brought the letters to us from Cairo. Elm Ezra + found him down the river deserted by his niggers, and sick with this + new sort of fever, which the Saadat is knocking out of time. And + there he lies, the Saadat caring for him as though he was his + brother. But that’s his way; though, now I come to think of it, the + Saadat doesn’t suspect what I suspect, that Halim Bey brought word + from Nahoum to our sheikhs here to keep us here, or lose us, or do + away with us. Old Ebn Ezra doesn’t say much himself, doesn’t say + anything about that; but he’s guessing the same as me. And the + Saadat looks as though he was ready for his grave, but keeps going, + going, going. He never seems to sleep. What keeps him alive I + don’t know. Sometimes I feel clean knocked out myself with the + little I do, but he’s a travelling hospital all by his lonesome. + + Later.—I had to stop writing, for things have been going on— + several. I can see that Ebn Ezra has told the Saadat things that + make him want to get away to Cairo as soon as possible. That it’s + Nahoum Pasha and others—oh, plenty of others, of course—I’m + certain; but what the particular game is I don’t know. Perhaps you + know over in England, for you’re nearer Cairo than we are by a few + miles, and you’ve got the telegraph. Perhaps there’s a revolution, + perhaps there’s been a massacre of Europeans, perhaps Turkey is + kicking up a dust, perhaps Europe is interfering—all of it, all at + once. + + Later still.—I’ve found out it’s a little of all, and the Saadat is + ready to go. I guess he can go now pretty soon, for the worst of + the fever is over. But something has happened that’s upset him— + knocked him stony for a minute. Halim Bey was killed last night—by + order of the sheikhs, I’m told; but the sheikhs won’t give it away. + When the Saadat went to them, his eyes blazing, his face pale as a + sheet, and as good as swore at them, and treated them as though he’d + string them up the next minute, they only put their hands on their + heads, and said they were “the fallen leaves for his foot to + scatter,” the “snow on the hill for his breath to melt”; but they + wouldn’t give him any satisfaction. So he came back and shut + himself up in his tent, and he sits there like a ghost all + shrivelled up for want of sleep, and his eyes like a lime-kiln + burning; for now he knows this at least, that Halim Bey had brought + some word from Kaid’s Palace that set these Arabs against him, and + nearly stopped my correspondence. You see, there’s a widow in + Cairo—she’s a sister of the American consul, and I’ve promised to + take her with a party camping in the Fayoum—cute as she can be, and + plays the guitar. But it’s all right now, except that the Saadat is + running too close and fine. If he has any real friends in England + among the Government people, or among those who can make the + Government people sit up, and think what’s coming to Egypt and to + him, they’ll help him now when he needs it. He’ll need help real + bad when he gets back to Cairo—if we get that far. It isn’t yet a + sure thing, for we’ve got to fight in the next day or two—I forgot + to tell you that sooner. There’s a bull-Arab on the rampage with + five thousand men, and he’s got a claim out on our sheikh, Mustafa, + for ivory he has here, and there’s going to be a scrimmage. We’ve + got to make for a better position to-morrow, and meet Abdullah, the + bull-Arab, further down the river. That’s one reason why Mustafa + and all our friends here are so sweet on us now. They look on the + Saadat as a kind of mascot, and they think that he can wipe out the + enemy with his flute, which they believe is a witch-stick to work + wonders. + + He’s just sent for me to come, and I must stop soon. Say, he hasn’t + had sleep for a fortnight. It’s too much; he can’t stand it. I + tried it, and couldn’t. It wore me down. He’s killing himself for + others. I can’t manage him; but I guess you could. I apologise, + dear Lady Cousin. I’m only a hayseed, and a failure, but I guess + you’ll understand that I haven’t thought only of myself as I wrote + this letter. The higher you go in life the more you’ll understand; + that’s your nature. I’ll get this letter off by a nigger to-morrow, + with those the Saadat is sending through to Cairo by some + friendlies. It’s only a chance; but everything’s chance here now. + Anyhow, it’s safer than leaving it till the scrimmage. If you get + this, won’t you try and make the British Government stand by the + Saadat? Your husband, the lord, could pull it off, if he tried; and + if you ask him, I guess he’d try. I must be off now. David Pasha + will be waiting. Well, give my love to the girls! + + Your affectionate cousin, + + TOM LACEY. + + P. S.—I’ve got a first-class camel for our scrimmage day after + to-morrow. Mustafa sent it to me this morning. I had a fight on + mules once, down at Oaxaca, but that was child’s play. This will be + “slaughter in the pan,” if the Saadat doesn’t stop it somehow. + Perhaps he will. If I wasn’t so scared I’d wish he couldn’t stop + it, for it will be a way-up Barbarian scrap, the tongs and the + kettle, a bully panjandrum. It gets mighty dull in the desert when + you’re not moving. But “it makes to think,” as the French say. + Since I came out here I’ve had several real centre thoughts, sort of + main principles-key-thoughts, that’s it. What I want now is a sort + of safety-ring to string ‘em on and keep ‘em safe; for I haven’t a + good memory, and I get mighty rattled sometimes. Thoughts like + these are like the secret of a combination lock; they let you into + the place where the gold and securities and title-deeds of life are. + Trouble is, I haven’t got a safety-ring, and I’m certain to lose + them. I haven’t got what you’d call an intellectual memory. Things + come in flashes to me out of experiences, and pull me up short, and + I say, “Yes, that’s it—that’s it; I understand.” I see why it’s + so, and what it means, and where it leads, and how far it spreads. + It’s five thousand years old. Adam thought it after Cain killed + Abel, or Abel thought it just before he died, or Eve learned it from + Lilith, or it struck Abraham when he went to sacrifice Isaac. + Sometimes things hit me deep like that here in the desert. Then I + feel I can see just over on the horizon the tents of Moab in the + wilderness; that yesterday and to-day are the same; that I’ve + crossed the prairies of the everlasting years, and am playing about + with Ishmael in the wild hills, or fighting with Ahab. Then the + world and time seem pretty small potatoes. + + You see how it is. I never was trained to think, and I get stunned + by thoughts that strike me as being dug right out of the centre. + Sometimes I’d like to write them down; but I can’t write; I can only + talk as I’m talking to you. If you weren’t so high up, and so much + cleverer than I am, and such a thinker, I’d like you to be my + safety-ring, if you would. I could tell the key-thoughts to you + when they came to me, before I forgot them with all their bearings; + and by-and-by they’d do me a lot of good when I got away from this + influence, and back into the machinery of the Western world again. + If you could come out here, if you could feel what I feel here—and + you would feel a thousand times as much—I don’t know what you + wouldn’t do. + + It’s pretty wonderful. The nights with the stars so white and + glittering, and so near that you’d think you could reach up and hand + them down; the dark, deep, blue beyond; such a width of life all + round you, a sort of never-ending space, that everything you ever + saw or did seems little, and God so great in a kind of hovering + sense like a pair of wings; and all the secrets of time coming out + of it all, and sort of touching your face like a velvet wind. I + expect you’ll think me sentimental, a first-class squash out of the + pumpkin-garden; but it’s in the desert, and it gets into you and + saturates you, till you feel that this is a kind of middle space + between the world of cities, and factories, and railways, and + tenement-houses, and the quiet world to come—a place where they + think out things for the benefit of future generations, and convey + them through incarnations, or through the desert. Say, your + ladyship, I’m a chatterer, I’m a two-cent philosopher, I’m a baby; + but you are too much like your grandmother, who was the daughter of + a Quaker like David Pasha, to laugh at me. + + I’ve got a suit of fine chain-armour which I bought of an Arab down + by Darfur. I’m wondering if it would be too cowardly to wear it in + the scrap that’s coming. I don’t know, though, but what I’ll wear + it, I get so scared. But it will be a frightful hot thing under my + clothes, and it’s hot enough without that, so I’m not sure. It + depends how much my teeth chatter when I see “the dawn of battle.” + + I’ve got one more thing before I stop. I’m going to send you a + piece of poetry which the Saadat wrote, and tore in two, and threw + away. He was working off his imagination, I guess, as you have to + do out here. I collected it and copied it, and put in the + punctuation—he didn’t bother about that. Perhaps he can’t + punctuate. I don’t understand quite what the poetry means, but + maybe you will. Anyway, you’ll see that it’s a real desert piece. + Here it is: + + “THE DESERT ROAD + + “In the sands I lived in a hut of palm, + There was never a garden to see; + There was never a path through the desert calm, + Nor a way through its storms for me. + + “Tenant was I of a lone domain; + The far pale caravans wound + To the rim of the sky, and vanished again; + My call in the waste was drowned. + + “The vultures came and hovered and fled; + And once there stole to my door + A white gazelle, but its eyes were dread + With the hurt of the wounds it bore. + + “It passed in the dusk with a foot of fear, + And the white cold mists rolled in; + + “And my heart was the heart of a stricken deer, + Of a soul in the snare of sin. + + “My days they withered like rootless things, + And the sands rolled on, rolled wide; + Like a pelican I, with broken wings, + Like a drifting barque on the tide. + + “But at last, in the light of a rose-red day, + In the windless glow of the morn, + From over the hills and from far away, + You came—ah, the joy of the morn! + + “And wherever your footsteps fell, there crept + A path—it was fair and wide: + A desert road which no sands have swept, + Where never a hope has died. + + “I followed you forth, and your beauty held + My heart like an ancient song; + By that desert road to the blossoming plains + I came-and the way was long! + + “So I set my course by the light of your eyes; + I care not what fate may send; + On the road I tread shine the love-starred skies— + The road with never an end.” + + Not many men can do things like that, and the other things, too, + that he does. Perhaps he will win through, by himself, but is it + fair to have him run the risk? If he ever did you a good turn, as + you once said to me he did, won’t you help him now? You are on the + inside of political things, and if you make up your mind to help, + nothing will stop you—that was your grandmother’s way. He ought to + get his backing pretty soon, or it won’t be any good.... I + hear him at his flute. I expect he’s tired waiting for me. Well, + give my love to the girls! + T. L. +</pre> + <p> + As Hylda read, she passed through phases of feeling begotten of new + understanding which shook her composure. She had seen David and all that + David was doing; Egypt, and all that was threatening the land through the + eyes of another who told the whole truth—except about his own + cowardice, which was untrue. She felt the issues at stake. While the + mention of David’s personal danger left her sick for a moment, she saw the + wider peril also to the work he had set out to do. + </p> + <p> + What was the thing without the man? It could not exist—it had no + meaning. Where was he now? What had been the end of the battle? He had + saved others, had he saved himself? The most charmed life must be pierced + by the shaft of doom sooner or later; but he was little more than a youth + yet, he had only just begun! + </p> + <p> + “And the Saadat looks as though he was ready for his grave—but keeps + going, going, going!” The words kept ringing in her ears. Again: “And he + sits there like a ghost all shrivelled up for want of sleep, and his eyes + like a lime-kiln burning.... He hasn’t had sleep for a fortnight.... He’s + killing himself for others.” + </p> + <p> + Her own eyes were shining with a dry, hot light, her lips were quivering, + but her hands upon the letter were steady and firm. What could she do? + </p> + <p> + She went to a table, picked up the papers, and scanned them hurriedly. Not + a word about Egypt. She thought for a moment, then left the drawing-room. + Passing up a flight of stairs to her husband’s study, she knocked and + entered. It was empty; but Eglington was in the house, for a red + despatch-box lay open on his table. Instinctively she glanced at the + papers exposed in the box, and at the letters beside it. The document on + the top of the pile in the box related to Cyprus—the name caught her + eye. Another document was half-exposed beneath it. Her hand went to her + heart. She saw the words, “Soudan” and “Claridge Pasha.” She reached for + it, then drew back her hand, and her eyes closed as though to shut it out + from her sight. Why should she not see it? They were her husband’s papers, + husband and wife were one. Husband and wife one! She shrank back. Were + they one? An overmastering desire was on her. It seemed terrible to wait, + when here before her was news of David, of life or death. Suddenly she put + out her hand and drew the Cyprus paper over the Egyptian document, so that + she might not see it. + </p> + <p> + As she did so the door opened on her, and Eglington entered. He had seen + the swift motion of her hand, and again a look peculiar to him crossed his + face, enigmatical, cynical, not pleasant to see. + </p> + <p> + She turned on him slowly, and he was aware of her inward distress to some + degree, though her face was ruled to quietness. + </p> + <p> + He nodded at her and smiled. She shrank, for she saw in his nod and his + smile that suggestion of knowing all about everything and everybody, and + thinking the worst, which had chilled her so often. Even in their short + married life it had chilled those confidences which she would gladly have + poured out before him, if he had been a man with an open soul. Had there + been joined to his intellect and temperament a heart capable of true + convictions and abiding love, what a man he might have been! But his + intellect was superficial, and his temperament was dangerous, because + there were not the experiences of a soul of truth to give the deeper hold + upon the meaning of life. She shrank now, as, with a little laugh and + glancing suggestively at the despatch-box, he said: + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of it all?” + </p> + <p> + She felt as though something was crushing her heart within its grasp, and + her eyes took on a new look of pain. “I did not read the papers,” she + answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I saw them in your fingers. What creatures women are—so + dishonourable in little things,” he said ironically. + </p> + <p> + She laid a hand on his. “I did not read them, Harry,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + He smiled and patted her arm. “There, there, it doesn’t matter,” he + laughed. He watched her narrowly. “It matters greatly,” she answered + gently, though his words had cut her like a knife. “I did not read the + papers. I only saw the word ‘Cyprus’ on the first paper, and I pushed it + over the paper which had the word ‘Egypt’ on it ‘Egypt’ and ‘Claridge,’ + lest I should read it. I did not wish to read it. I am not dishonourable, + Harry.” + </p> + <p> + He had hurt her more than he had ever done; and only the great matter at + stake had prevented the lesser part of her from bursting forth in + indignation, from saying things which she did not wish to say. She had + given him devotion—such devotion, such self-effacement in his career + as few women ever gave. Her wealth—that was so little in comparison + with the richness of her nature—had been his; and yet his vast + egotism took it all as his right, and she was repaid in a kind of tyranny, + the more galling and cruel because it was wielded by a man of intellect + and culture, and ancient name and tradition. If he had been warned that he + was losing his wife’s love, he would have scouted the idea, his + self-assurance was so strong, his vanity complete. If, however, he had + been told that another man was thinking of his wife, he would have + believed it, as he believed now that David had done; and he cherished that + belief, and let resentment grow. He was the Earl of Eglington, and no + matter what reputation David had reached, he was still a member of a + Quaker trader’s family, with an origin slightly touched with scandal. + Another resentment, however, was steadily rising in him. It galled him + that Hylda should take so powerful an interest in David’s work in Egypt; + and he knew now that she had always done so. It did not ease his vexed + spirit to know that thousands of others of his fellow-countrymen did the + same. They might do so, but she was his wife, and his own work was the sun + round which her mind and interest should revolve. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you be so keen about Egypt and Claridge Pasha?” he said to her + now. + </p> + <p> + Her face hardened a little. Had he the right to torture her so? To suspect + her? She could read it in his eyes. Her conscience was clear. She was no + man’s slave. She would not be any man’s slave. She was master of her own + soul. What right had he to catechise her—as though she were a + servant or a criminal? But she checked the answer on her tongue, because + she was hurt deeper than words could express, and she said, composedly: + </p> + <p> + “I have here a letter from my cousin Lacey, who is with Claridge Pasha. It + has news of him, of events in the Soudan. He had fever, there was to be a + fight, and I wished to know if you had any later news. I thought that + document there might contain news, but I did not read it. I realised that + it was not yours, that it belonged to the Government, that I had no right. + Perhaps you will tell me if you have news. Will you?” She leaned against + the table wearily, holding her letter. + </p> + <p> + “Let me read your letter first,” he said wilfully. + </p> + <p> + A mist seemed to come before her eyes; but she was schooled to + self-command, and he did not see he had given her a shock. Her first + impulse was to hand the letter over at once; then there came the + remembrance of all it contained, all it suggested. Would he see all it + suggested? She recalled the words Lacey had used regarding a service which + David had once done her. If Eglington asked, what could she say? It was + not her secret alone, it was another’s. Would she have the right, even if + she wished it, to tell the truth, or part of the truth? Or, would she be + entitled to relate some immaterial incident which would evade the real + truth? What good could it do to tell the dark story? What could it serve? + Eglington would horribly misunderstand it—that she knew. There were + the verses also. They were more suggestive than anything else, though, + indeed, they might have referred to another woman, or were merely + impersonal; but she felt that was not so. And there was Eglington’s innate + unbelief in man and woman! Her first impulse held, however. She would act + honestly. She would face whatever there was to face. She would not shelter + herself; she would not give him the right in the future to say she had not + dealt fairly by him, had evaded any inquest of her life or mind which he + might make. + </p> + <p> + She gave him the letter, her heart standing still, but she was filled with + a regnant determination to defend herself, to defend David against any + attack, or from any consequences. + </p> + <p> + All her life and hopes seemed hanging in the balance, as he began to read + the letter. With fear she saw his face cloud over, heard an impatient + exclamation pass his lips. She closed her eyes to gather strength for the + conflict which was upon her. He spoke, and she vaguely wondered what + passage in the letter had fixed his attention. His voice seemed very far + away. She scarcely understood. But presently it pierced the clouds of + numbness between them, and she realised what he was saying: + </p> + <p> + “Vulgar fellow—I can’t congratulate you upon your American cousin. + So, the Saadat is great on moral suasion, master of it—never failed + yet—not altogether—and Aunt Melissa and skim-milk and early + piety!’ And ‘the Saadat is a wonder from Wondertown’—like a + side-show to a circus, a marvel on the flying trapeze! Perhaps you can + give me the sense of the letter, if there is any sense in it. I can’t read + his writing, and it seems interminable. Would you mind?” + </p> + <p> + A sigh of relief broke from her. A weight slipped away from her heart and + brain. It was as though one in armour awaited the impact of a heavy, + cruel, overwhelming foe, who suddenly disappeared, and the armour fell + from the shoulders, and breath came easily once again. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind?” he repeated drily, as he folded up the letter slowly. + </p> + <p> + He handed it back to her, the note of sarcasm in his voice pricking her + like the point of a dagger. She felt angered with herself that he could + rouse her temper by such small mean irony. She had a sense of bitter + disappointment in him—or was it a deep hurt?—that she had not + made him love her, truly love her. If he had only meant the love that he + swore before they had married! Why had he deceived her? It had all been in + his hands, her fate and future; but almost before the bridal flowers had + faded, she had come to know two bitter things: that he had married with a + sordid mind; that he was incapable of the love which transmutes the + half-comprehending, half-developed affection of the maid into the + absorbing, understanding, beautiful passion of the woman. She had married + not knowing what love and passion were; uncomprehending, and innocent + because uncomprehending; with a fine affection, but capable of loving + wholly. One thing had purified her motives and her life—the desire + to share with Eglington his public duty and private hopes, to be his + confidante, his friend, his coadjutor, proud of him, eager for him, + determined to help him. But he had blocked the path to all inner + companionship. He did no more than let her share the obvious and outer + responsibilities of his life. From the vital things, if there were vital + things, she was shut out. What would she not give for one day of simple + tenderness and quiet affection, a true day with a true love! + </p> + <p> + She was now perfectly composed. She told him the substance of the letter, + of David’s plight, of the fever, of the intended fight, of Nahoum Pasha, + of the peril to David’s work. He continued to interrogate her, while she + could have shrieked out the question, “What is in yonder document? What do + you know? Have you news of his safety?” Would he never stop his + questioning? It was trying her strength and patience beyond endurance. At + last he drew the document slowly from the despatch-box, and glanced up and + down it musingly. “I fancy he won the battle,” he said slowly, “for they + have news of him much farther down the river. But from this letter I take + it he is not yet within the zone of safety—so Nahoum Pasha says.” He + flicked the document upwards with his thumb. + </p> + <p> + “What is our Government doing to help him?” she asked, checking her + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + His heart had gradually hardened towards Egypt. Power had emphasised a + certain smallness in him. Personal considerations informed the policy of + the moment. He was not going to be dragged at the chariot-wheels of the + Quaker. To be passive, when David in Egypt had asked for active interest; + to delay, when urgency was important to Claridge Pasha; to speak coldly on + Egyptian affairs to his chief, the weak Foreign Secretary, this was the + policy he had begun. + </p> + <p> + So he answered now: “It is the duty of the Egyptian Government to help him—of + Prince Kaid, of Nahoum Pasha, who is acting for him in his absence, who + governs finance, and therefore the army. Egypt does not belong to + England.” + </p> + <p> + “Nahoum Pasha is his enemy. He will do nothing to help, unless you force + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I know Nahoum Pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you know Nahoum?” + </p> + <p> + “In Egypt, years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Your acquaintance is more varied than I thought,” he said sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not speak to me like that!” she returned, in a low, indignant + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do not patronise me; do not be sarcastic.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be so sensitive,” he answered unemotionally. + </p> + <p> + “You surely do not mean that you—that the Government will not help + him? He is doing the work of Europe, of civilisation, of Christianity + there. He is sacrificing himself for the world. Do you not see it? Oh, but + you do! You would realise his work if you knew Egypt as I have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “Expediency must govern the policy of nations,” he answered critically. + </p> + <p> + “But, if through your expediency he is killed like a rat in a trap, and + his work goes to pieces—all undone! Is there no right in the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “In affairs of state other circumstances than absolute ‘right’ enter. Here + and there the individual is sacrificed who otherwise would be saved—if + it were expedient.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Eglington! He is of your own county, of your own village, is your + neighbour, a man of whom all England should be proud. You can intervene if + you will be just, and say you will. I know that intervention has been + discussed in the Cabinet.” + </p> + <p> + “You say he is of my county. So are many people, and yet they are not + county people. A neighbour he was, but more in a Scriptural than social + sense.” He was hurting her purposely. + </p> + <p> + She made a protesting motion of her hand. “No, no, no, do not be so small. + This is a great matter. Do a great thing now; help it to be done for your + own honour, for England’s honour—for a good man’s sake, for your + country’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + There came a knock at the door. An instant afterwards a secretary entered. + “A message from the Prime Minister, sir.” He handed over a paper. + </p> + <p> + “Will you excuse me?” he asked Hylda suavely, in his eyes the enigmatical + look that had chilled her so often before. She felt that her appeal had + been useless. She prepared to leave the room. He took her hand, kissed it + gallantly, and showed her out. It was his way—too civil to be real. + </p> + <p> + Blindly she made her way to her room. Inside, she suddenly swayed and sank + fainting to the ground, as Kate Heaver ran forward to her. Kate saw the + letter in the clinched hand. Loosening it, she read two or three sentences + with a gasp. They contained Tom Lacey’s appeal for David. She lifted + Hylda’s head to her shoulder with endearing words, and chafed the cold + hands, murmuring to herself the while. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE QUESTIONER + </h2> + <h3> + “What has thee come to say?” + </h3> + <p> + Sitting in his high-backed chair, Luke Claridge seemed a part of its + dignified severity. In the sparsely furnished room with its uncarpeted + floor, its plain teak table, its high wainscoting and undecorated walls, + the old man had the look of one who belonged to some ancient consistory, a + judge whose piety would march with an austerity that would save a human + soul by destroying the body, if need be. + </p> + <p> + A crisis had come, vaguely foreseen, sombrely eluded. A questioner was + before him who, poor, unheeded, an ancient victim of vice, could yet wield + a weapon whose sweep of wounds would be wide. Stern and masterful as he + looked in his arid isolation, beneath all was a shaking anxiety. + </p> + <p> + He knew well what the old chair-maker had come to say, but, in the + prologue of the struggle before him, he was unwittingly manoeuvring for + position. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” he added presently, as Soolsby fumbled in his great loose + pockets, and drew forth a paper. “What has thee to say?” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, Soolsby handed over the paper, but the other would not + take it. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, his lips growing pale. “Read—if thee can + read.” + </p> + <p> + The gibe in the last words made the colour leap into Soolsby’s face, and a + fighting look came. He too had staved off this inevitable hour, had + dreaded it, but now his courage shot up high. + </p> + <p> + “Doost think I have forgotten how to read since the day I put my hand to a + writing you’ve hid so long from them it most concerns? Ay, I can read, and + I can write, and I will prove that I can speak too before I’ve done.” + </p> + <p> + “Read—read,” rejoined the old man hoarsely, his hands tightly + gripping the chair-arm. + </p> + <p> + “The fever caught him at Shendy—that is the place—” + </p> + <p> + “He is not dead—David is not dead?” came the sharp, pained + interruption. The old man’s head strained forward, his eyes were misty and + dazed. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby’s face showed no pity for the other’s anxiety; it had a kind of + triumph in it. “Nay, he is living,” he answered. “He got well of the + fever, and came to Cairo, but he’s off again into the desert. It’s the + third time. You can’t be tempting Providence for ever. This paper here + says it’s too big a job for one man—like throwing a good life away. + Here in England is his place, it says. And so say I; and so I have come to + say, and to hear you say so, too. What is he there? One man against a + million. What put it in his head that he thinks he can do it?” + </p> + <p> + His voice became lower; he fixed his eyes meaningly on the other. “When a + man’s life got a twist at the start, no wonder it flies off madlike to do + the thing that isn’t to be done, and leave undone the thing that’s here + for it to do. Doost think a straight line could come from the crooked line + you drew for him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is safe—he is well and strong again?” asked the old man + painfully. Suddenly he reached out a hand for the paper. “Let me read,” he + said, in a voice scarce above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + He essayed to take the paper calmly, but it trembled in his hands. He + spread it out and fumbled for his glasses, but could not find them, and he + gazed helplessly at the page before him. Soolsby took the paper from him + and read slowly: + </p> + <p> + “... Claridge Pasha has done good work in Egypt, but he is a generation + too soon, it may be two or three too soon. We can but regard this fresh + enterprise as a temptation to Fate to take from our race one of the most + promising spirits and vital personalities which this generation has + produced. It is a forlorn hope. Most Englishmen familiar with Claridge + Pasha’s life and aims will ask—” + </p> + <p> + An exclamation broke from the old man. In the pause which followed he + said: “It was none of my doing. He went to Egypt against my will.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, so many a man’s said that’s not wanted to look his own acts straight + in the face. If Our Man had been started different, if he’d started in the + path where God A’mighty dropped him, and not in the path Luke Claridge + chose, would he have been in Egypt to-day wearing out his life? He’s not + making carpets there, he’s only beating them.” + </p> + <p> + The homely illustration drawn from the business in which he had been + interested so many years went home to Claridge’s mind. He shrank back, and + sat rigid, his brows drawing over the eyes, till they seemed sunk in + caverns of the head. Suddenly Soolsby’s voice rose angrily. Luke Claridge + seemed so remorseless and unyielding, so set in his vanity and self-will! + Soolsby misread the rigid look in the face, the pale sternness. He did not + know that there had suddenly come upon Luke Claridge the full + consciousness of an agonising truth—that all he had done where David + was concerned had been a mistake. The hard look, the sternness, were the + signals of a soul challenging itself. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you’ve had your own will,” cried Soolsby mercilessly. “You’ve said to + God A’mighty that He wasn’t able to work out to a good end what He’d let + happen; and so you’d do His work for Him. You kept the lad hid away from + the people that belonged to him, you kept him out of his own, and let + others take his birthright. You put a shame upon him, hiding who his + father and his father’s people were, and you put a shame upon her that + lies in the graveyard—as sweet a lass, as good, as ever lived on + earth. Ay, a shame and a scandal! For your eyes were shut always to the + sidelong looks, your ears never heard the things people said—‘A + good-for-nothing ship-captain, a scamp and a ne’er-do-weel, one that had a + lass at every port, and, maybe, wives too; one that none knew or ever had + seen—a pirate maybe, or a slave-dealer, or a jail-bird, for all they + knew! Married—oh yes, married right enough, but nothing else—not + even a home. Just a ring on the finger, and then, beyond and away!’ Around + her life that brought into the world our lad yonder you let a cloud draw + down; and you let it draw round his, too, for he didn’t even bear his + father’s name—much less knew who his father was—or live in his + father’s home, or come by his own in the end. You gave the lad shame and + scandal. Do you think, he didn’t feel it, was it much or little? He wasn’t + walking in the sun, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! Mercy!” broke in the old man, his hand before his eyes. He was + thinking of Mercy, his daughter, of the words she had said to him when she + died, “Set him in the sun, father, where God can find him,” and her name + now broke from his lips. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby misunderstood. “Ay, there’ll be mercy when right’s been done Our + Man, and not till then. I’ve held my tongue for half a lifetime, but I’ll + speak now and bring him back. Ay, he shall come back and take the place + that is his, and all that belongs to him. That lordship yonder—let + him go out into the world and make his place as the Egyptian did. He’s had + his chance to help Our Man, and he has only hurt, not helped him. We’ve + had enough of his second-best lordship and his ways.” + </p> + <p> + The old man’s face was painful in its stricken stillness now. He had + regained control of himself, his brain had recovered greatly from its + first suffusion of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “How does thee know my lord yonder has hurt and not helped him?” he asked + in an even voice, his lips tightening, however. “How does thee know it + surely?” + </p> + <p> + “From Kate Heaver, my lady’s maid. My lady’s illness—what was it? + Because she would help Our Man, and, out of his hatred, yonder second son + said that to her which no woman can bear that’s a true woman; and then, + what with a chill and fever, she’s been yonder ailing these weeks past. + She did what she could for him, and her husband did what he could against + him.” + </p> + <p> + The old man settled back in his chair again. “Thee has kept silent all + these years? Thee has never told any that lives?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave my word to her that died—to our Egyptian’s mother—that + I would never speak unless you gave me leave to speak, or if you should + die before me. It was but a day before the lad was born. So have I kept my + word. But now you shall speak. Ay, then, but you shall speak, or I’ll + break my word to her, to do right by her son. She herself would speak if + she was here, and I’ll answer her, if ever I see her after Purgatory, for + speaking now.” + </p> + <p> + The old man drew himself up in his chair as though in pain, and said very + slowly, almost thickly: “I shall answer also for all I did. The spirit + moved me. He is of my blood—his mother was dead—in his veins + is the blood that runs in mine. His father—aristocrat, spendthrift, + adventurer, renegade, who married her in secret, and left her, bidding her + return to me, until he came again, and she to bear him a child—was + he fit to bring up the boy?” + </p> + <p> + He breathed heavily, his face became wan and haggard, as he continued: + “Restless on land or sea, for ever seeking some new thing, and when he + found it, and saw what was therein, he turned away forgetful. God put it + into my heart to abjure him and the life around him. The Voice made me + rescue the child from a life empty and bare and heartless and proud. When + he returned, and my child was in her grave, he came to me in secret; he + claimed the child of that honest lass whom he had married under a false + name. I held my hand lest I should kill him, man of peace as I am. Even + his father—Quaker though he once became—did we not know ere + the end that he had no part or lot with us, that he but experimented with + his soul, as with all else? Experiment—experiment—experiment, + until at last an Eglington went exploring in my child’s heart, and sent + her to her grave—the God of Israel be her rest and refuge! What + should such high-placed folk do stooping out of their sphere to us who + walk in plain paths? What have we in common with them? My soul would have + none of them—masks of men, the slaves of riches and titles, and + tyrants over the poor.” + </p> + <p> + His voice grew hoarse and high, and his head bent forward. He spoke as + though forgetful of Soolsby’s presence: “As the East is from the West, so + were we separate from these lovers of this world, the self-indulgent, the + hard-hearted, the proud. I chose for the child that he should stay with me + and not go to him, to remain among his own people and his own class. He + was a sinister, an evil man. Was the child to be trusted with him?” + </p> + <p> + “The child was his own child,” broke in Soolsby. “Your daughter was his + lady—the Countess of Eglington! Not all the Quakers in heaven or + earth could alter that. His first-born son is Earl of Eglington, and has + been so these years past; and you, nor his second-best lordship there, nor + all the courts in England can alter that.... Ay, I’ve kept my peace, but I + will speak out now. I was with the Earl—James Fetherdon he called + himself—when he married her that’s gone to heaven, if any ever went + to heaven; and I can prove all. There’s proof aplenty, and ‘tis a pity, + ay, God’s pity! that ‘twas not used long ago. Well I knew, as the years + passed, that the Earl’s heart was with David, but he had not the courage + to face it all, so worn away was the man in him. Ah, if the lad had always + been with him—who can tell?—he might have been different! + Whether so or not, it was the lad’s right to take his place his mother + gave him, let be whatever his father was. ‘Twas a cruel thing done to him. + His own was his own, to run his race as God A’mighty had laid the hurdles, + not as Luke Claridge willed. I’m sick of seeing yonder fellow in Our Man’s + place, he that will not give him help, when he may; he that would see him + die like a dog in the desert, brother or no brother—” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know—Lord Eglington does not know the truth?” + interposed the old man in a heavy whisper. “He does not know, but, if he + knew, would it matter to him! So much the more would he see Our Man die + yonder in the sands. I know the breed. I know him yonder, the skim-milk + lord. There is no blood of justice, no milk of kindness in him. Do you + think his father that I friended in this thing—did he ever give me a + penny, or aught save that hut on the hill that was not worth a pound a + year? Did he ever do aught to show that he remembered?—Like father + like son. I wanted naught. I held my peace, not for him, but for her—for + the promise I made her when she smiled at me and said: ‘If I shouldn’t be + seeing thee again, Soolsby, remember; and if thee can ever prove a friend + to the child that is to be, prove it.’ And I will prove it now. He must + come back to his own. Right’s right, and I will have it so. More brains + you may have, and wealth you have, but not more common sense than any + common man like me. If the spirit moved you to hold your peace, it moves + me to make you speak. With all your meek face you’ve been a hard, + stiff-necked man, a tyrant too, and as much an aristocrat to such as me as + any lord in the land. But I’ve drunk the mug of silence to the bottom. + I’ve—” He stopped short, seeing a strange look come over the other’s + face, then stepped forward quickly as the old man half rose from his + chair, murmuring thickly: + </p> + <p> + “Mercy—David, my lord, come—!” he muttered, and staggered, and + fell into Soolsby’s arms. + </p> + <p> + His head dropped forward on his breast, and with a great sigh he sank into + unconsciousness. Soolsby laid him on a couch, and ran to the door and + called aloud for help. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + .......................... +</pre> + <p> + The man of silence was silent indeed now. In the room where paralysis had + fallen on him a bed was brought, and he lay nerveless on the verge of a + still deeper silence. The hours went by. His eyes opened, he saw and + recognised them all, but his look rested only on Faith and Soolsby; and, + as time went on, these were the only faces to which he gave an answering + look of understanding. Days wore away, but he neither spoke nor moved. + </p> + <p> + People came and went softly, and he gave no heed. There was ever a trouble + in his eyes when they were open. Only when Soolsby came did it seem to + lessen. Faith saw this, and urged Soolsby to sit by him. She had + questioned much concerning what had happened before the stroke fell, but + Soolsby said only that the old man had been greatly troubled about David. + Once Lady Eglington, frail and gentle and sympathetic, came, but the + trouble deepened in his eyes, and the lids closed over them, so that he + might not see her face. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone, Soolsby, who had been present and had interpreted the + old man’s look according to a knowledge all his own, came over to the bed, + leaned down and whispered: “I will speak now.” + </p> + <p> + Then the eyes opened, and a smile faintly flickered at the mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I will speak now,” Soolsby said again into the old man’s ear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE VOICE THROUGH THE DOOR + </h2> + <p> + That night Soolsby tapped at the door of the lighted laboratory of the + Cloistered House where Lord Eglington was at work; opened it, peered in, + and stepped inside. + </p> + <p> + With a glass retort in his hand Eglington faced him. “What’s this—what + do you want?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I want to try an experiment,” answered Soolsby grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, a scientific turn!” rejoined Eglington coolly—looking at him + narrowly, however. He was conscious of danger of some kind. + </p> + <p> + Then for a minute neither spoke. Now that Soolsby had come to the moment + for which he had waited for so many years, the situation was not what he + had so often prefigured. The words he had chosen long ago were gone from + his memory; in his ignorance of what had been a commonplace to Soolsby’s + dark reflection so long, the man he had meant to bring low stood up before + him on his own ground, powerful and unabashed. + </p> + <p> + Eglington wore a blue smock, and over his eyes was a green shade to + protect them from the light, but they peered sharply out at the + chair-maker, and were boldly alive to the unexpected. He was no physical + coward, and, in any case, what reason had he for physical fear in the + presence of this man weakened by vice and age? Yet ever since he was a boy + there had existed between them an antagonism which had shown itself in + many ways. There had ever been something sinister in Soolsby’s attitude to + his father and himself. + </p> + <p> + Eglington vaguely knew that now he was to face some trial of mind and + nerve, but with great deliberation he continued dropping liquid from a + bottle into the glass retort he carried, his eyes, however, watchful of + his visitor, who involuntarily stared around the laboratory. + </p> + <p> + It was fifteen years since Soolsby had been in this room; and then he had + faced this man’s father with a challenge on his tongue such as he meant to + speak now. The smell of the chemicals, the carboys filled with acids, the + queer, tapering glasses with engraved measurements showing against the + coloured liquids, the great blue bottles, the mortars and pestles, the + microscopic instruments—all brought back the far-off, acrid scene + between the late Earl and himself. Nothing had changed, except that now + there were wires which gave out hissing sparks, electrical instruments + invented since the earlier day; except that this man, gently dropping + acids into the round white bottle upon a crystal which gave off musty + fumes, was bolder, stronger, had more at stake than the other. + </p> + <p> + Slowly Eglington moved back to put the retort on a long table against the + wall, and Soolsby stepped forward till he stood where the electric sparks + were gently hissing about him. Now Eglington leaned against the table, + poured some alcohol on his fingers to cleanse the acid from them, and + wiped them with a piece of linen, while he looked inquiringly at Soolsby. + Still, Soolsby did not speak. Eglington lit a cigarette, and took away the + shade from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, what is your experiment?” he asked, “and why bring it here? + Didn’t you know the way to the stables or the scullery?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew my way better here,” answered Soolsby, steadying himself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you’ve been here often?” asked Eglington nonchalantly, yet feeling + for the cause of this midnight visit. + </p> + <p> + “It is fifteen years since I was here, my lord. Then I came to see the + Earl of Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + “And so history repeats itself every fifteen years! You came to see the + Earl of Eglington then; you come to see the Earl of Eglington again—after + fifteen years!” + </p> + <p> + “I come to speak with him that’s called the Earl of Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington’s eyes half closed, as though the light hurt them. “That sounds + communistic, or is it pure Quakerism? I believe they used to call my + father Friend Robert till he backslided. But you are not a Quaker, + Soolsby, so why be too familiar? Or is it merely the way of the old family + friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew your father before you were born, my lord—he troosted me + then.” + </p> + <p> + “So long? And fifteen years ago—here?” He felt a menace, vague and + penetrating. His eyes were hard and cruel. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t a question of troost then; ‘twas one of right or wrong—naught + else.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—and who was right, and what was wrong?” At that moment there + came a tap at the door leading into the living part of the house, and the + butler entered. “The doctor—he has used up all his oxygen, my lord. + He begs to know if you can give him some for Mr. Claridge. Mr. Claridge is + bad to-night.” + </p> + <p> + A sinister smile passed over Eglington’s face. “Who brings the message, + Garry?” + </p> + <p> + “A servant—Miss Claridge’s, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + An ironical look came into Eglington’s eyes; then they softened a little. + In a moment he placed a jar of oxygen in the butler’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Miss Claridge, and I am happy to find my laboratory of + use at last to my neighbours,” he said, and the door closed upon the man. + </p> + <p> + Then he came back thoughtfully. Soolsby had not moved. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what oxygen’s for, Soolsby?” he asked quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, I’ve never heerd tell of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you brought the top of Ben Lomond to the bottom of a coal-mine—breath + to the breathless—that’s it. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve been doing that to Mr. Claridge, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “A little oxygen more or less makes all the difference to a man—it + probably will to neighbour Claridge, Soolsby; and so I’ve done him a good + turn.” + </p> + <p> + A grim look passed over Soolsby’s face. “It’s the first, I’m thinking, my + lord, and none too soon; and it’ll be the last, I’m thinking, too. It’s + many a year since this house was neighbourly to that.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington’s eyes almost closed, as he studied the other’s face; then he + said: “I asked you a little while ago who was right and what was wrong + when you came to see my father here fifteen years ago. Well?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a thought flashed into his eyes, and it seemed to course through + his veins like some anaesthetic, for he grew very still, and a minute + passed before he added quietly: “Was it a thing between my father and Luke + Claridge? There was trouble—well, what was it?” All at once he + seemed to rise above the vague anxiety that possessed him, and he fingered + inquiringly a long tapering glass of acids on the bench beside him. + “There’s been so much mystery, and I suppose it was nothing, after all. + What was it all about? Or do you know—eh? Fifteen years ago you came + to see my father, and now you have come to see me—all in the light + o’ the moon, as it were; like a villain in a play. Ah, yes, you said it + was to make an experiment—yet you didn’t know what oxygen was! It’s + foolish making experiments, unless you know what you are playing with, + Soolsby. See, here are two glasses.” He held them up. “If I poured one + into the other, we’d have an experiment—and you and I would be + picked up in fragments and carried away in a basket. And that wouldn’t be + a successful experiment, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not so sure of that, my lord. Some things would be put right then.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m, there would be a new Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And Claridge Pasha would come back from Egypt, my lord,” was the sharp + interjection. Suddenly Soolsby’s anger flared up, his hands twitched. “You + had your chance to be a friend to him, my lord. You promised her yonder at + the Red Mansion that you would help him—him that never wronged you, + him you always wronged, and you haven’t lifted hand to help him in his + danger. A moment since you asked me who was right and what was wrong. You + shall know. If you had treated him right, I’d have held my peace, and kept + my word to her that’s gone these thirty-odd years. I’ll hold it no more, + and so I told Luke Claridge. I’ve been silent, but not for your father’s + sake or yours, for he was as cruel as you, with no heart, and a conscience + like a pin’s head, not big enough for use... Ay, you shall know. You are + no more the Earl of Eglington than me. + </p> + <p> + “The Earl of Eglington is your elder brother, called David Claridge.” + </p> + <p> + As Soolsby’s words poured forth passionately, weighty, Eglington listened + like one in a dream. Since this man entered the laboratory fifty reasons + for his coming had flashed across his mind; he had prepared himself at + many corners for defence, he had rallied every mental resource, he had + imagined a dozen dangerous events which his father and Luke Claridge + shared—with the balance against his father; but this thing was + beyond all speculation. Yet on the instant the words were said he had a + conviction of their inevitable truth. Even as they were uttered, + kaleidoscopic memories rushed in, and David’s face, figure, personal + characteristics, flashed before him. He saw, he felt, the likeness to his + father and himself; a thousand things were explained that could only be + explained by this fatal fact launched at him without warning. It was as + though, fully armed for his battle of life, he had suddenly been stripped + of armour and every weapon, and left naked on the field. But he had the + mind of the gamester, and the true gamester’s self-control. He had taken + chances so often that the tornado of ill-luck left him standing. + </p> + <p> + “What proof have you?” he asked quietly. Soolsby’s explicit answer left no + ground for doubt. He had not asked the question with any idea of finding + gaps in the evidence, but rather to find if there were a chance for + resistance, of escape, anywhere. The marriage certificate existed; + identification of James Fetherdon with his father could be established by + Soolsby and Luke Claridge. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby and Luke Claridge! Luke Claridge—he could not help but smile + cynically, for he was composed and calculating now. A few minutes ago he + had sent a jar of oxygen to keep Luke Claridge alive! But for it one enemy + to his career, to his future, would be gone. He did not shrink from the + thought. Born a gentleman, there were in him some degenerate + characteristics which heart could not drown or temperament refine. + Selfishness was inwoven with every fibre of his nature. + </p> + <p> + Now, as he stood with eyes fixed on Soolsby, the world seemed to narrow + down to this laboratory. It was a vacuum where sensation was suspended, + and the million facts of ordinary existence disappeared into inactivity. + There was a fine sense of proportion in it all. Only the bare essential + things that concerned him remained: David Claridge was the Earl of + Eglington, this man before him knew, Luke Claridge knew; and there was one + thing yet to know! When he spoke his voice showed no excitement—the + tones were even, colourless. + </p> + <p> + “Does he know?” In these words he acknowledged that he believed the tale + told him. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby had expected a different attitude; he was not easier in mind + because his story had not been challenged. He blindly felt working in the + man before him a powerful mind, more powerful because it faced the truth + unflinchingly; but he knew that this did not mean calm acceptance of the + consequences. He, not Eglington, was dazed and embarrassed, was not equal + to the situation. He moved uneasily, changed his position. + </p> + <p> + “Does he know?” Eglington questioned again quietly. There was no need for + Eglington to explain who he was. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he does not know—I said so. If he knew, do you think he’d + be in Egypt and you here, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + Eglington was very quiet. His intellect more than his passions were now at + work. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure. You never can tell. This might not mean much to him. He + has got his work cut out; he wasn’t brought up to this. What he has done + is in line with the life he has lived as a pious Quaker. What good would + it do to bring him back? I have been brought up to it; I am used to it; I + have worked things out ‘according to the state of life to which I was + called.’ Take what I’ve always had away from me, and I am crippled; give + him what he never had, and it doesn’t work into his scheme. It would do + him no good and me harm—Where’s the use? Besides, I am still my + father’s son. Don’t you see how unreasonable you are? Luke Claridge was + right. He knew that he and his belonged to a different sphere. He didn’t + speak. Why do you speak now after all these years when we are all set in + our grooves? It’s silly to disturb us, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + The voice was low, persuasive, and searching; the mind was working as it + had never worked before, to achieve an end by peaceful means, when war + seemed against him. And all the time he was fascinated by the fact that + Soolsby’s hand was within a few inches of a live electric wire, which, if + he touched, would probably complete “the experiment” he had come to make; + and what had been the silence of a generation would continue indefinitely. + It was as though Fate had deliberately tempted him and arranged the + necessary conditions, for Soolsby’s feet were in a little pool of liquid + which had been spilled on the floor—the experiment was exact and + real. + </p> + <p> + For minutes he had watched Soolsby’s hand near the wire-had watched as he + talked, and his talk was his argument for non-interference against warning + the man who had come to destroy him and his career. Why had Fate placed + that hand so near the wire there, and provided the other perfect + conditions for tragedy? Why should he intervene? It would never have + crossed his mind to do Soolsby harm, yet here, as the man’s arm was + stretched out to strike him, Fate offered an escape. Luke Claridge was + stricken with paralysis, no doubt would die; Soolsby alone stood in his + way. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Soolsby, it has gone on too long,” he added, in a low, + penetrating tone. “It would be a crime to alter things now. Give him the + earldom and the estates, and his work in Egypt goes to pieces; he will be + spoiled for all he wants to do. I’ve got my faults, but, on the whole, I’m + useful, and I play my part here, as I was born to it, as well as most. + Anyhow, it’s no robbery for me to have what has been mine by every right + except the accident of being born after him. I think you’ll see that you + will do a good thing to let it all be. Luke Claridge, if he was up and + well, wouldn’t thank you for it—have you got any right to give him + trouble, too? Besides, I’ve saved his life to-night, and... and perhaps I + might save yours, Soolsby, if it was in danger.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby’s hand had moved slightly. It was only an inch from the wire. For + an instant the room was terribly still. + </p> + <p> + An instant, and it might be too late. An instant, and Soolsby would be + gone. Eglington watched the hand which had been resting on the table turn + slowly over to the wire. Why should he intervene? Was it his business? + This thing was not his doing. Destiny had laid the train of circumstance + and accident, and who was stronger than Destiny? In spite of himself his + eyes fixed themselves on Soolsby’s hand. It was but a hair’s breadth from + the wire. The end would come now. Suddenly a voice was heard outside the + door. “Eglington!” it called. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby started, his hand drew spasmodically away from the wire, and he + stepped back quickly. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Hylda entered. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Claridge is dead, Eglington,” she said. Destiny had decided. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. “I OWE YOU NOTHING” + </h2> + <p> + Beside the grave under the willow-tree another grave had been made. It was + sprinkled with the fallen leaves of autumn. In the Red Mansion Faith’s + delicate figure moved forlornly among relics of an austere, beloved figure + vanished from the apricot-garden and the primitive simplicity of wealth + combined with narrow thought. + </p> + <p> + Since her father’s death, the bereaved girl had been occupied by matters + of law and business, by affairs of the estate; but the first pressure was + over, long letters had been written to David which might never reach him; + and now, when the strain was withdrawn, the gentle mind was lost in a grey + mist of quiet suffering. In Hamley there were but two in whom she had any + real comfort and help—Lady Eglington and the old chair-maker. Of an + afternoon or evening one or the other was to be seen in the long + high-wainscoted room, where a great fire burned, or in the fruitless + garden where the breeze stirred the bare branches. + </p> + <p> + Almost as deep a quiet brooded in the Cloistered House as in the home + where mourning enjoined movement in a minor key. Hylda had not recovered + wholly from the illness which had stricken her down on that day in London + when she had sought news of David from Eglington, at such cost to her + peace and health and happiness. Then had come her slow convalescence in + Hamley, and long days of loneliness, in which Eglington seemed to retreat + farther and farther from her inner life. Inquiries had poured in from + friends in town, many had asked to come and see her; flowers came from one + or two who loved her benignly, like Lord Windlehurst; and now and then she + had some cheerful friend with her who cared for music or could sing; and + then the old home rang; but she was mostly alone, and Eglington was kept + in town by official business the greater part of each week. She did not + gain strength as quickly as she ought to have done, and this was what + brought the Duchess of Snowdon down on a special mission one day of early + November. + </p> + <p> + Ever since the night she had announced Luke Claridge’s death to Eglington, + had discovered Soolsby with him, had seen the look in her husband’s face + and caught the tension of the moment on which she had broken, she had been + haunted by a hovering sense of trouble. What had Soolsby been doing in the + laboratory at that time of night? What was the cause of this secret + meeting? All Hamley knew—she had long known—how Luke Claridge + had held the Cloistered House in abhorrence, and she knew also that + Soolsby worshipped David and Faith, and, whatever the cause of the family + antipathy, championed it. She was conscious of a shadow somewhere, and + behind it all was the name of David’s father, James Fetherdon. That last + afternoon when she had talked with him, and he had told her of his life, + she had recalled the name as one she had seen or heard, and it had floated + into her mind at last that she had seen it among the papers and letters of + the late Countess of Eglington. + </p> + <p> + As the look in Eglington’s face the night she came upon him and Soolsby in + the laboratory haunted her, so the look in her own face had haunted + Soolsby. Her voice announcing Luke Claridge’s death had suddenly opened up + a new situation to him. It stunned him; and afterwards, as he saw Hylda + with Faith in the apricot-garden, or walking in the grounds of the + Cloistered House hour after hour alone or with her maid, he became vexed + by a problem greater than had yet perplexed him. It was one thing to turn + Eglington out of his lands and home and title; it was another thing to + strike this beautiful being, whose smile had won him from the first, whose + voice, had he but known, had saved his life. Perhaps the truth in some dim + way was conveyed to him, for he came to think of her a little as he + thought of Faith. + </p> + <p> + Since the moment when he had left the laboratory and made his way to the + Red Mansion, he and Eglington had never met face to face; and he avoided a + meeting. He was not a blackmailer, he had no personal wrongs to avenge, he + had not sprung the bolt of secrecy for evil ends; and when he saw the + possible results of his disclosure, he was unnerved. His mind had seen one + thing only, the rights of “Our Man,” the wrong that had been done him and + his mother; but now he saw how the sword of justice, which he had kept by + his hand these many years, would cut both ways. His mind was troubled, + too, that he had spoken while yet Luke Claridge lived, and so broken his + word to Mercy Claridge. If he had but waited till the old man died—but + one brief half-hour—his pledge would have been kept. Nothing had + worked out wholly as he expected. The heavens had not fallen. The + “second-best lordship” still came and went, the wheels went round as + usual. There was no change; yet, as he sat in his hut and looked down into + the grounds of the Cloistered House, he kept saying to himself. + </p> + <p> + “It had to be told. It’s for my lord now. He knows the truth. I’ll wait + and see. It’s for him to do right by Our Man that’s beyond and away.” + </p> + <p> + The logic and fairness of this position, reached after much thinking, + comforted him. He had done his duty so far. If, in the end, the + “second-best lordship” failed to do his part, hid the truth from the + world, refused to do right by his half-brother, the true Earl, then would + be time to act again. Also he waited for word out of Egypt; and he had a + superstitious belief that David would return, that any day might see him + entering the door of the Red Mansion. + </p> + <p> + Eglington himself was haunted by a spectre which touched his elbow by day, + and said: “You are not the Earl of Eglington,” and at night laid a clammy + finger on his forehead, waking him, and whispering in his ear: “If Soolsby + had touched the wire, all would now be well!” And as deep as thought and + feeling in him lay, he felt that Fate had tricked him—Fate and + Hylda. If Hylda had not come at that crucial instant, the chairmaker’s but + on the hill would be empty. Why had not Soolsby told the world the truth + since? Was the man waiting to see what course he himself would take? Had + the old chair-maker perhaps written the truth to the Egyptian—to his + brother David. + </p> + <p> + His brother! The thought irritated every nerve in him. No note of kindness + or kinship or blood stirred in him. If, before, he had had innate + antagonism and a dark, hovering jealousy, he had a black repugnance now—the + antipathy of the lesser to the greater nature, of the man in the wrong to + the man in the right. + </p> + <p> + And behind it all was the belief that his wife had set David above him—by + how much or in what fashion he did not stop to consider; but it made him + desire that death and the desert would swallow up his father’s son and + leave no trace behind. + </p> + <p> + Policy? His work in the Foreign Office now had but one policy so far as + Egypt was concerned. The active sophistry in him made him advocate + non-intervention in Egyptian affairs as diplomatic wisdom, though it was + but personal purpose; and he almost convinced himself that he was acting + from a national stand-point. Kaid and Claridge Pasha pursued their course + of civilisation in the Soudan, and who could tell what danger might not + bring forth? If only Soolsby held his peace yet a while! + </p> + <p> + Did Faith know? Luke Claridge was gone without speaking, but had Soolsby + told Faith? How closely had he watched the faces round him at Luke + Claridge’s funeral, to see if they betrayed any knowledge! + </p> + <p> + Anxious days had followed that night in the laboratory. His boundless + egotism had widened the chasm between Hylda and himself, which had been + made on the day when she fell ill in London, with Lacey’s letter in her + hand. It had not grown less in the weeks that followed. He nursed a + grievance which had, so far as he knew, no foundation in fact; he was + vaguely jealous of a man—his brother—thousands of miles away; + he was not certain how far Hylda had pierced the disguise of sincerity + which he himself had always worn, or how far she understood him. He + thought that she shrank from what she had seen of his real self, much or + little, and he was conscious of so many gifts and abilities and attractive + personal qualities that he felt a sense of injury. Yet what would his + position be without her? Suppose David should return and take the estates + and titles, and suppose that she should close her hand upon her fortune + and leave him, where would he be? + </p> + <p> + He thought of all this as he sat in his room at the Foreign Office and + looked over St. James’s Park, his day’s work done. He was suddenly seized + by a new-born anxiety, for he had been so long used to the open purse and + the unchecked stream of gold, had taken it so much as a matter of course, + as not to realise the possibility of its being withdrawn. He was conscious + of a kind of meanness and ugly sordidness in the suggestion; but the stake—his + future, his career, his position in the world—was too high to allow + him to be too chivalrous. His sense of the real facts was perverted. He + said to himself that he must be practical. + </p> + <p> + Moved by the new thought, he seized a time-table and looked up the trains. + He had been ten days in town, receiving every morning a little note from + Hylda telling of what she had done each day; a calm, dutiful note, written + without pretence, and out of a womanly affection with which she surrounded + the man who, it seemed once—such a little while ago—must be + all in all to her. She had no element of pretence in her. What she could + give she gave freely, and it was just what it appeared to be. He had taken + it all as his due, with an underlying belief that, if he chose to make + love to her again, he could blind her to all else in the world. Hurt + vanity and egotism and jealousy had prevented him from luring her back to + that fine atmosphere in which he had hypnotised her so few years ago. But + suddenly, as he watched the swans swimming in the pond below, a new sense + of approaching loss, all that Hylda had meant in his march and progress, + came upon him; and he hastened to return to Hamley. + </p> + <p> + Getting out of the train at Heddington, he made up his mind to walk home + by the road that David had taken on his return from Egypt, and he left + word at the station that he would send for his luggage. + </p> + <p> + His first objective was Soolsby’s hut, and, long before he reached it, + darkness had fallen. From a light shining through the crack of the blind + he knew that Soolsby was at home. He opened the door and entered without + knocking. Soolsby was seated at a table, a map and a newspaper spread out + before him. Egypt and David, always David and Egypt! + </p> + <p> + Soolsby got to his feet slowly, his eyes fixed inquiringly on his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t knock,” said Eglington, taking off his greatcoat and reaching + for a chair; then added, as he seated himself: “Better sit down, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment he continued: “Do you mind my smoking?” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby did not reply, but sat down again. He watched Eglington light a + cigar and stretch out his hands to the wood fire with an air of comfort. + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. Eglington appeared to forget the other’s presence, and + to occupy himself with thoughts that glimmered in the fire. + </p> + <p> + At last Soolsby said moodily: “What have you come for, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am my lord still, am I?” Eglington returned lazily. “Is it a + genealogical tree you are studying there?” He pointed to the map. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve studied your family tree with care, as you should know, my lord; and + a map of Egypt”—he tapped the parchment before him—“goes well + with it. And see, my lord, Egypt concerns you too. Lord Eglington is + there, and ‘tis time he was returning-ay, ‘tis time.” + </p> + <p> + There was a baleful look in Soolsby’s eyes. Whatever he might think, + whatever considerations might arise at other times, a sinister feeling + came upon him when Eglington was with him. + </p> + <p> + “And, my lord,” he went on, “I’d be glad to know that you’ve sent for him, + and told him the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” Eglington flicked the ash from his cigar, speaking coolly. + </p> + <p> + Soolsby looked at him with his honest blue eyes aflame, and answered + deliberately: “I was not for taking your place, my lord. ‘Twas my duty to + tell you, but the rest was between you and the Earl of Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + “That was thoughtful of you, Soolsby. And Miss Claridge?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you that night, my lord, that only her father and myself knew; and + what was then is now.” + </p> + <p> + A look of relief stole across Eglington’s face. “Of course—of + course. These things need a lot of thought, Soolsby. One must act with + care—no haste, no flurry, no mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not wait too long, my lord, or be too careful.” There was menace + in the tone. + </p> + <p> + “But if you go at things blind, you’re likely to hurt where you don’t mean + to hurt. When you’re mowing in a field by a school-house, you must look + out for the children asleep in the grass. Sometimes the longest way round + is the shortest way home.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to do it or not, my lord? I’ve left it to you as a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s going to upset more than you think, Soolsby. Suppose he, out there + in Egypt”—he pointed again to the map—“doesn’t thank me for + the information. Suppose he says no, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Right’s right. Give him the chance, my lord. How can you know, unless you + tell him the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like living, Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to kill me, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + There was a dark look in Eglington’s face. “But answer me, do you want to + live?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to live long enough to see the Earl of Eglington in his own + house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve made that possible. The other night when you were telling me + your little story, you were near sending yourself into eternity—as + near as I am knocking this ash off my cigar.” His little finger almost + touched the ash. “Your hand was as near touching a wire charged with + death. I saw it. It would have been better for me if you had gone; but I + shut off the electricity. Suppose I hadn’t, could I have been blamed? It + would have been an accident. Providence did not intervene; I did. You owe + me something, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby stared at him almost blindly for a moment. A mist was before his + eyes; but through the mist, though he saw nothing of this scene in which + he now was, he saw the laboratory, and himself and Eglington, and + Eglington’s face as it peered at him, and, just before the voice called + outside, Eglington’s eyes fastened on his hand. It all flashed upon him + now, and he saw himself starting back at the sound of the voice. + </p> + <p> + Slowly he got up now, went to the door, and opened it. “My lord, it is not + true,” he said. “You have not spoken like a gentleman. It was my lady’s + voice that saved me. This is my castle, my lord—you lodge yonder.” + He pointed down into the darkness where the lights of the village shone. + “I owe you nothing. I pay my debts. Pay yours, my lord, to him that’s + beyond and away.” + </p> + <p> + Eglington kept his countenance as he drew on his great-coat and slowly + passed from the house. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have let you die, Soolsby. Y’ou’ll think better of this soon. + But it’s quite right to leave the matter to me. It may take a little time, + but everything will come right. Justice shall be done. Well, good night, + Soolsby. You live too much alone, and imagination is a bad thing for the + lonely. Good night-good night.” + </p> + <p> + Going down the hill quickly, he said to himself: “A sort of second sight + he had about that wire. But time is on my side, time and the Soudan—and + ‘The heathen in his blindness....’ I will keep what is mine. I will keep + it!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE AWAKENING + </h2> + <p> + In her heart of hearts Hylda had not greatly welcomed the Duchess of + Snowdon to Hamley. There was no one whose friendship she prized more; but + she was passing through a phase of her life when she felt that she was + better apart, finding her own path by those intuitions and perceptions + which belonged to her own personal experience. She vaguely felt, what all + realise sooner or later, that we must live our dark hours alone. + </p> + <p> + Yet the frank downright nature of the once beautiful, now faded, Duchess, + the humorous glimmer in the pale-blue eyes, the droll irony and dry truth + of her speech, appealed to Hylda, made her smile a warm greeting when she + would rather have been alone. For, a few days before, she had begun a + quest which had absorbed her, fascinated her. The miner, finding his way + across the gap of a reef to pick up the vein of quartz at some distant and + uncertain point, could not have been more lost to the world than was the + young wife searching for a family skeleton, indefinitely embodied in her + imagination by the name, James Fetherdon. + </p> + <p> + Pile after pile of papers and letters of the late Earl and his Countess + had passed through her hands from chaos to order. As she had read, hour + after hour, the diaries of the cold, blue-eyed woman, Sybil Eglington, who + had lived without love of either husband or son, as they, in turn, lived + without love of each other, she had been overwhelmed by the revelation of + a human heart, whose powers of expression were smothered by a shy and + awkward temperament. The late Countess’s letters were the unclothing of a + heart which had never expanded to the eyes of those whose love would have + broken up a natural reserve, which became at last a proud coldness, and + gave her a reputation for lack of feeling that she carried to her grave. + </p> + <p> + In the diaries which Hylda unearthed—the Countess had died suddenly—was + the muffled cry of a soul tortured through different degrees of + misunderstanding; from the vague pain of suffered indifference, of being + left out of her husband’s calculations, to the blank neglect narrowing her + life down to a tiny stream of duty, which was finally lost in the sands. + She had died abroad, and alone, save for her faithful maid, who, knowing + the chasm that lay between her mistress and her lord, had brought her + letters and papers back to the Cloistered House, and locked them away with + all the other papers and correspondence which the Countess had + accumulated. + </p> + <p> + Among these papers was a letter to the late Lord Eglington written the day + before she died. In the haste and confusion ensuing on her death, the maid + had not seen it. It had never reached his hands, but lay in a pocket of + the dead woman’s writing-portfolio, which Hylda had explored without + discovering. Only a few hours, however, before the Duchess of Snowdon + came, Hylda had found again an empty envelope on which was written the + name, James Fetherdon. The writing on the envelope was that of Sybil Lady + Eglington. + </p> + <p> + When she discovered the envelope, a sense of mystery and premonition + possessed her. What was the association between the Countess of Eglington + and James Fetherdon, the father of David Claridge? In vain she searched + among the voluminous letters and papers, for it would seem that the dead + woman had saved every letter she received, and kept copies of numberless + letters she had written. But she had searched without avail. Even the + diaries, curiously frank and without reserve, never mentioned the name, so + far as she could find, though here and there were strange allusive + references, hints of a trouble that weighed her down, phrases of + exasperation and defiance. One phrase, or the idea in it, was, however, + much repeated in the diaries during the course of years, and towards the + last almost feverishly emphasised—“Why should I bear it for one who + would bear nothing for me, for his sake, who would do nothing for my sake? + Is it only the mother in me, not the love in me?” + </p> + <p> + These words were haunting Hylda’s brain when the telegram from the Duchess + of Snowdon came. They followed her to Heddington, whither she went in the + carriage to bring her visitor to Hamley, and kept repeating themselves at + the back of her mind through the cheerful rallying of the Duchess, who + spread out the wings of good-humour and motherly freedom over her. + </p> + <p> + After all, it was an agreeable thing to be taken possession of, and “put + in her proper place,” as the Duchess said; made to understand that her own + affairs were not so important, after all; and that it was far more + essential to hear the charming gossip about the new and most popular + Princess of Wales, or the quarrel between Dickens and Thackeray. Yet, + after dinner, in the little sitting-room, where the Duchess, in a white + gown with great pink bows, fitter for a girl fresh from Confirmation, and + her cheeks with their fixed colour, which changed only at the discretion + of her maid, babbled of nothing that mattered, Hylda’s mind kept turning + to the book of life an unhappy woman had left behind her. The sitting-room + had been that of the late Countess also, and on the wall was an + oil-painting of her, stately and distant and not very alluring, though the + mouth had a sweetness which seemed unable to break into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “What was she really like—that wasn’t her quite, was it?” asked + Hylda, at last, leaning her chin on the hand which held the ‘cello she had + been playing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it’s Sybil Eglington, my dear, but done in wood; and she wasn’t + the graven image that makes her out to be. That’s as most people saw her; + as the fellow that painted her saw her; but she had another side to her. + She disapproved of me rather, because I was squeezing the orange dry, and + trying to find yesterday’s roses in to-morrow’s garden. But she didn’t + shut her door in my face—it’s hard to do that to a Duchess; which is + one of the few advantages of living naked in the street, as it were, with + only the strawberry leaves to clothe you. No, Sybil Eglington was a woman + who never had her chance. Your husband’s forbears were difficult, my dear. + They didn’t exactly draw you out. She needed drawing out; and her husband + drove her back into her corner, where she sulked rather till she died—died + alone at Wiesbaden, with a German doctor, a stray curate, and a stuttering + maid to wish her bon voyage. Yet I fancy she went glad enough, for she had + no memories, not even an affaire to repent of, and to cherish. La, la! she + wasn’t so stupid, Sybil there, and she was an ornament to her own sex and + the despair of the other. His Serene Highness Heinrich of Saxe-Gunden + fancied the task of breaking that ice, and he was an adept and an Apollo, + but it broke his reputation instead. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt she is happy now. I shall probably never see!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of the poignant nature of the talk, Hylda could not but smile at + the last words. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t despair,” she rejoined; “one star differeth from another star in + glory, but that is no reason why they should not be on visiting terms.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you may laugh—you may laugh, but I am sixty-five, and I am + not laughing at the idea of what company I may be obliged to keep + presently. In any case I’m sure I shall not be comfortable. If I’m where + she is, I shall be dull; if I’m where her husband is, I’ll have no + reputation; and if there is one thing I want, it is a spotless reputation—sometime.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda laughed—the manner and the voice were so droll—but her + face saddened too, and her big eyes with the drooping lashes looked up + pensively at the portrait of her husband’s mother. + </p> + <p> + “Was it ever a happy family, or a lucky family?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It’s lucky now, and it ought to be happy now,” was the meaning reply. + </p> + <p> + Hylda made no answer, but caught the strings of the ‘cello lightly, and + shook her head reprovingly, with a smile meant to be playful. For a moment + she played, humming to herself, and then the Duchess touched the hand that + was drawing the bow softly across the strings. She had behind her + garishness a gift for sympathy and a keen intuition, delicacy, and + allusiveness. She knew what to say and what to leave unsaid, when her + heart was moved. + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” she said now, “you are not quite happy; but that is because + you don’t allow yourself to get well. You’ve never recovered from your + attack last summer; and you won’t, until you come out into the world again + and see people. This autumn you ought to have been at Homburg or at Aix, + where you’d take a little cure of waters and a great deal of cure of + people. You were born to bask in friendship and the sun, and to draw from + the world as much as you deserve, a little from many, for all you give in + return. Because, dearest, you are a very agreeable person, with enough wit + and humanity to make it worth the world’s while to conspire to make you do + what will give it most pleasure, and let yourself get most—and + that’s why I’ve come.” + </p> + <p> + “What a person of importance I am!” answered Hylda, with a laugh that was + far from mirthful, though she caught the plump, wrinkled little hand of + the Duchess and pressed it. “But really I’m getting well here fast. I’m + very strong again. It is so restful, and one’s days go by so quietly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, I’m not sure that it’s rest you want. I don’t think it is. You want + tonics—men and women and things. Monte Carlo would do you a world of + good—I’d go with you. Eglington gambles here”—she watched + Hylda closely—“why shouldn’t you gamble there?” + </p> + <p> + “Eglington gambles?” Hylda’s face took on a frightened look, then it + cleared again, and she smiled. “Oh, of course, with international affairs, + you mean. Well, I must stay here and be the croupier.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Eglington is his own croupier. Besides, he is so much in + London, and you so much here. You sit with the distaff; he throws the + dice.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda’s lips tightened a little. Her own inner life, what Eglington was to + her or she to Eglington, was for the ears of no human being, however + friendly. She had seen little of him of late, but in one sense that had + been a relief, though she would have done anything to make that feeling + impossible. His rather precise courtesy and consideration, when he was + with her, emphasised the distance between “the first fine careless + rapture” and this grey quiet. And, strange to say, though in the first + five years after the Cairo days and deeds, Egypt seemed an infinite space + away, and David a distant, almost legendary figure, now Egypt seemed but + beyond the door—as though, opening it, she would stand near him who + represented the best of all that she might be capable of thinking. Yet all + the time she longed for Eglington to come and say one word, which would be + like touching the lever of the sluice-gates of her heart, to let loose the + flood. As the space grew between her and Eglington, her spirit trembled, + she shrank back, because she saw that sea towards which she was drifting. + </p> + <p> + As she did not answer the last words of the Duchess, the latter said + presently: “When do you expect Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till the week-end; it is a busy week with him,” Hylda answered; then + added hastily, though she had not thought of it till this moment: “I shall + probably go up to town with you to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know that Eglington was already in the house, and had given + orders to the butler that she was not to be informed of his arrival for + the present. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you get that far, will you come with me to the Riviera, or to + Florence, or Sicily—or Cairo?” the other asked, adjusting her + gold-brown wig with her babyish hands. + </p> + <p> + Cairo! Cairo! A light shot up into Hylda’s eyes. The Duchess had spoken + without thought, but, as she spoke, she watched the sudden change in + Hylda. What did it mean? Cairo—why should Cairo have waked her so? + Suddenly she recalled certain vague references of Lord Windlehurst, and, + for the first time, she associated Hylda with Claridge Pasha in a way + which might mean much, account for much, in this life she was leading. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps! Perhaps!” answered Hylda abstractedly, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess got to her feet. She had made progress. She would let her + medicine work. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to bed, my dear. I’m sixty-five, and I take my sleep when I can + get it. Think it over, Sicily—Cairo!” + </p> + <p> + She left the room, saying to herself that Eglington was a fool, and that + danger was ahead. “But I hold a red light—poor darling!” she said + aloud, as she went up the staircase. She did not know that Eglington, + standing in a deep doorway, heard her, and seized upon the words eagerly + and suspiciously, and turned them over in his mind. + </p> + <p> + Below, at the desk where Eglington’s mother used to write, Hylda sat with + a bundle of letters before her. For some moments she opened, glanced + through them, and put them aside. Presently she sat back in her chair, + thinking—her mind was invaded by the last words of the Duchess; and + somehow they kept repeating themselves with the words in the late + Countess’s diary: “Is it only the mother in me, not the love in me?” + Mechanically her hand moved over the portfolio of the late Countess, and + it involuntarily felt in one of its many pockets. Her hand came upon a + letter. This had remained when the others had been taken out. It was + addressed to the late Earl, and was open. She hesitated a moment, then, + with a strange premonition and a tightening of her heart-strings, she + spread it out and read it. + </p> + <p> + At first she could scarcely see because of the mist in her eyes; but + presently her sight cleared, and she read quickly, her cheeks burning with + excitement, her heart throbbing violently. The letter was the last + expression of a disappointed and barren life. The slow, stammering tongue + of an almost silent existence had found the fulness of speech. The + fountains of the deep had been broken up, and Sybil Eglington’s repressed + emotions, undeveloped passions, tortured by mortal sufferings, and refined + and vitalised by the atmosphere blown in upon her last hours from the + Hereafter, were set free, given voice and power at last. + </p> + <p> + The letter reviewed the life she had lived with her husband during + twenty-odd years, reproved herself for not speaking out and telling him + his faults at the beginning, and for drawing in upon herself, when she + might have compelled him to a truer understanding; and, when all that was + said, called him to such an account as only the dying might make—the + irrevocable, disillusionising truth which may not be altered, the poignant + record of failure and its causes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “... I could not talk well, I never could, as a girl,” the + letter ran; “and you could talk like one inspired, and so + speciously, so overwhelmingly, that I felt I could say nothing in + disagreement, not anything but assent; while all the time I felt how + hollow was so much you said—a cloak of words to cover up the real + thought behind. Before I knew the truth, I felt the shadow of + secrecy in your life. When you talked most, I felt you most + secretive, and the feeling slowly closed the door upon all frankness + and sympathy and open speech between us. I was always shy and self- + conscious and self-centred, and thought little of myself; and I + needed deep love and confidence and encouragement to give out what + was in me. I gave nothing out, nothing to you that you wanted, or + sought for, or needed. You were complete, self-contained. Harry, + my beloved babe Harry, helped at first; but, as the years went on, + he too began to despise me for my little intellect and slow + intelligence, and he grew to be like you in all things—and + secretive also, though I tried so hard to be to him what a mother + should be. Oh, Bobby, Bobby—I used to call you that in the days + before we were married, and I will call you that now when all is + over and done—why did you not tell me all? Why did you not tell me + that my boy, my baby Harry, was not your only child, that there had + been another wife, and that your eldest son was alive? + + “I know all. I have known all for years. The clergyman who married + you to Mercy Claridge was a distant relative of my mother’s, and + before he died he told me. When you married her, he knew you only + as James Fetherdon, but, years afterwards, he saw and recognised + you. He held his peace then, but at last he came to me. And I did + not speak. I was not strong enough, nor good enough, to face the + trouble of it all. I could not endure the scandal, to see my own + son take the second place—he is so brilliant and able and + unscrupulous, like yourself; but, oh, so sure of winning a great + place in the world, surer than yourself ever was, he is so + calculating and determined and ambitious! And though he loves me + little, as he loves you little, too, yet he is my son, and for what + he is we are both responsible, one way or another; and I had not the + courage to give him the second place, and the Quaker, David + Claridge, the first place. Why Luke Claridge, his grandfather, + chose the course he did, does not concern me, no more than why you + chose secrecy, and kept your own firstborn legitimate son, of whom + you might well be proud, a stranger to you and his rights all these + years. Ah, Eglington, you never knew what love was, you never had + a heart—experiment, subterfuge, secrecy, ‘reaping where you had + not sowed, and gathering where you had not strawed.’ Always, + experiment, experiment, experiment! + + “I shall be gone in a few hours—I feel it, but before I go I must + try to do right, and to warn you. I have had such bad dreams about + you and Harry—they haunt me—that I am sure you will suffer + terribly, will have some awful tragedy, unless you undo what was + done long ago, and tell the truth to the world, and give your titles + and estates where they truly belong. Near to death, seeing how + little life is, and how much right is in the end, I am sure that I + was wrong in holding my peace; for Harry cannot prosper with this + black thing behind him, and you cannot die happy if you smother up + the truth. Night after night I have dreamed of you in your + laboratory, a vague, dark, terrifying dream of you in that + laboratory which I have hated so. It has always seemed to me the + place where some native evil and cruelty in your blood worked out + its will. I know I am an ignorant woman, with no brain, but God has + given me clear sight at the last, and the things I see are true + things, and I must warn you. Remember that....” + </pre> + <p> + The letter ended there. She had been interrupted or seized with illness, + and had never finished it, and had died a few hours afterwards; and the + letter was now, for the first time, read by her whom it most concerned, + into whose heart and soul the words sank with an immitigable pain and + agonised amazement. A few moments with this death-document had transformed + Hylda’s life. + </p> + <p> + Her husband and—and David, were sons of the same father; and the + name she bore, the home in which she was living, the estates the title + carried, were not her husband’s, but another’s—David’s. She fell + back in her chair, white and faint, but, with a great effort, she + conquered the swimming weakness which blinded her. Sons of the same + father! The past flashed before her, the strange likeness she had + observed, the trick of the head, the laugh, the swift gesture, the + something in the voice. She shuddered as she had done in reading the + letter. But they were related only in name, in some distant, + irreconcilable way—in a way which did not warrant the sudden scarlet + flush that flooded her face. Presently she recovered herself. She—what + did she suffer, compared with her who wrote this revelation of a lifetime + of pain, of bitter and torturing knowledge! She looked up at the picture + on the wall, at the still, proud, emotionless face, the conventional, + uninspired personality, behind which no one had seen, which had agonised + alone till the last. With what tender yet pitiless hand had she laid bare + the lives of her husband and her son! How had the neglected mother told + the bitter truth of him to whom she had given birth! “So brilliant and + able, and unscrupulous, like yourself; but, oh, sure of winning a great + place in the world... so calculating and determined and ambitious.... That + laboratory which I have hated so. It has always seemed to me the place + where some native evil and cruelty in your blood worked out its will....” + </p> + <p> + With a deep-drawn sigh Hylda said to herself: “If I were dying to-morrow, + would I say that? She loved them so—at first must have loved them + so; and yet this at the last! And I—oh, no, no, no!” She looked at a + portrait of Eglington on the table near, touched it caressingly, and + added, with a sob in her voice: “Oh, Harry, no, it is not true! It is not + native evil and cruelty in your blood. It has all been a mistake. You will + do right. We will do right, Harry. You will suffer, it will hurt, the + lesson will be hard—to give up what has meant so much to you; but we + will work it out together, you and I, my very dear. Oh, say that we shall, + that....” She suddenly grew silent. A tremor ran through her, she became + conscious of his presence near her, and turned, as though he were behind + her. There was nothing. Yet she felt him near, and, as she did so, the + soul-deep feeling with which she had spoken to the portrait fled. Why was + it that, so often, when absent from him, her imagination helped her to + make excuses for him, inspired her to press the real truth out of sight, + and to make believe that he was worthy of a love which, but through some + inner fault of her own, might be his altogether, and all the love of which + he was capable might be hers? + </p> + <p> + She felt him near her, and the feelings possessing her a moment before + slowly chilled and sank away. Instinctively her eyes glanced towards the + door. She saw the handle turn, and she slipped the letter inside the + portfolio again. + </p> + <p> + The door opened briskly now, and Eglington entered with what his enemies + in the newspaper press had called his “professional smile”—a + criticism which had angered his wife, chiefly because it was so near the + truth. He smiled. Smiling was part of his equipment, and was for any one + at any time that suited him. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met his, and he noted in her something that he had never seen + before. Something had happened. The Duchess of Snowdon was in the house; + had it anything to do with her? Had she made trouble? There was trouble + enough without her. He came forward, took Hylda’s hand and kissed it, then + kissed her on the cheek. As he did so, she laid a hand on his arm with a + sudden impulse, and pressed it. Though his presence had chilled the high + emotions of a few moments before, yet she had to break to him a truth + which would hurt him, dismay him, rob his life of so much that helped it; + and a sudden protective, maternal sense was roused in her, reached out to + shelter him as he faced his loss and the call of duty. + </p> + <p> + “You have just come?” she said, in a voice that, to herself, seemed far + away. + </p> + <p> + “I have been here some hours,” he answered. Secrecy again—always the + thing that had chilled the dead woman, and laid a cold hand upon herself—“I + felt the shadow of secrecy in your life. When you talked most I felt you + most secretive, and the feeling slowly closed the door upon all frankness + and sympathy and open speech between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not see me—dine with me?” she asked. “What can the + servants think?” Even in such a crisis the little things had place—habit + struck its note in the presence of her tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “You had the Duchess of Snowdon, and we are not precisely congenial; + besides, I had much to do in the laboratory. I’m working for that new + explosive of which I told you. There’s fame and fortune in it, and I’m on + the way. I feel it coming”—his eyes sparkled a little. “I made it + right with the servants; so don’t be apprehensive.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen you for nearly a week. It doesn’t seem—friendly.” + </p> + <p> + “Politics and science are stern masters,” he answered gaily. + </p> + <p> + “They leave little time for your mistress,” she rejoined meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “Who is my mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not greatly your wife,” she replied. “I have the dregs of your + life. I help you—I am allowed to help you—so little, to share + so little in the things that matter to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that’s imagination and misunderstanding,” he rejoined. “It has + helped immensely your being such a figure in society, and entertaining so + much, and being so popular, at any rate until very lately.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not misunderstand,” she answered gravely. “I do not share your real + life. I do not help you where your brain works, in the plans and purposes + and hopes that lie behind all that you do—oh, yes, I know your + ambitions and what positions you are aiming for; but there is something + more than that. There is the object of it all, the pulse of it, the + machinery down, down deep in your being that drives it all. Oh, I am not a + child! I have some intellect, and I want—I want that we should work + it out together.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of all that had come and gone, in spite of the dead mother’s + words and all her own convictions, seeing trouble coming upon him, she + wanted to make one last effort for what might save their lives—her + life—from shipwreck in the end. If she failed now, she foresaw a + bitter, cynical figure working out his life with a narrowing soul, a hard + spirit unrelieved by the softening influence of a great love—even + yet the woman in her had a far-off hope that, where the law had made them + one by book and scrip, the love which should consecrate such a union, lift + it above an almost offensive relation, might be theirs. She did not know + how much of her heart, of her being, was wandering over the distant sands + of Egypt, looking for its oasis. Eglington had never needed or wanted more + than she had given him—her fortune, her person, her charm, her + ability to play an express and definite part in his career. It was this + material use to which she was so largely assigned, almost involuntarily + but none the less truly, that had destroyed all of the finer, dearer, more + delicate intimacy invading his mind sometimes, more or less vaguely, where + Faith was concerned. So extreme was his egotism that it had never occurred + to him, as it had done to the Duchess of Snowdon and Lord Windlehurst, + that he might lose Hylda herself as well as her fortune; that the day + might come when her high spirit could bear it no longer. As the Duchess of + Snowdon had said: “It would all depend upon the other man, whoever he + might be.” + </p> + <p> + So he answered her with superficial cheerfulness now; he had not the depth + of soul to see that they were at a crisis, and that she could bear no + longer the old method of treating her as though she were a child, to be + humoured or to be dominated. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see all there is,” he answered; “you are so imaginative, crying + for some moon there never was in any sky.” + </p> + <p> + In part he had spoken the truth. He had no high objects or ends or + purposes. He wanted only success somehow or another, and there was no + nobility of mind or aspiration behind it. In her heart of hearts she knew + it; but it was the last cry of her soul to him, seeking, though in vain, + for what she had never had, could never have. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing?” he added, looking at the desk where she had + sat, glancing round the room. “Has the Duchess left any rags on the + multitude of her acquaintances? I wonder that you can make yourself + contented here with nothing to do. You don’t look much stronger. I’m sure + you ought to have a change. My mother was never well here; though, for the + matter of that, she was never very well anywhere. I suppose it’s the + laboratory that attracts me here, as it did my father, playing with the + ancient forces of the world in these Arcadian surroundings—Arcady + without beauty or Arcadians.” He glanced up at his mother’s picture. “No, + she never liked it—a very silent woman, secretive almost.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly her eyes flared up. Anger possessed her. She choked it down. + Secretive—the poor bruised soul who had gone to her grave with a + broken heart! + </p> + <p> + “She secretive? No, Eglington,” she rejoined gravely, “she was congealed. + She lived in too cold an air. She was not secretive, but yet she kept a + secret—another’s.” + </p> + <p> + Again Eglington had the feeling which possessed him when he entered the + room. She had changed. There was something in her tone, a meaning, he had + never heard before. He was startled. He recalled the words of the Duchess + as she went up the staircase. + </p> + <p> + What was it all about? + </p> + <p> + “Whose secrets did she keep?” he asked, calmly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Your father’s, yours, mine,” she replied, in a whisper almost. + </p> + <p> + “Secret? What secret? Good Lord, such mystery!” He laughed mirthlessly. + </p> + <p> + She came close to him. “I am sorry—sorry, Harry,” she said with + difficulty. “It will hurt you, shock you so. It will be a blow to you, but + you must bear it.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to speak further, but her heart was beating so violently that + she could not. She turned quickly to the portfolio on the desk, drew forth + the fatal letter, and, turning to the page which contained the truth + concerning David, handed it to him. “It is there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He had great self-control. Before looking at the page to which she had + directed his attention, he turned the letter over slowly, fingering the + pages one by one. “My mother to my father,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Instinctively he knew what it contained. “You have been reading my + mother’s correspondence,” he added in cold reproof. + </p> + <p> + “Do you forget that you asked me to arrange her papers?” she retorted, + stung by his suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Your imagination is vivid,” he exclaimed. Then he bethought himself that, + after all, he might sorely need all she could give, if things went against + him, and that she was the last person he could afford to alienate; “but I + do remember that I asked you that,” he added—“no doubt foolishly.” + </p> + <p> + “Read what is there,” she broke in, “and you will see that it was not + foolish, that it was meant to be.” He felt a cold dead hand reaching out + from the past to strike him; but he nerved himself, and his eyes searched + the paper with assumed coolness-even with her he must still be acting. The + first words he saw were: “Why did you not tell me that my boy, my baby + Harry, was not your only child, and that your eldest son was alive?” + </p> + <p> + So that was it, after all. Even his mother knew. Master of his nerves as + he was, it blinded him for a moment. Presently he read on—the whole + page—and lingered upon the words, that he might have time to think + what he must say to Hylda. Nothing of the tragedy of his mother touched + him, though he was faintly conscious of a revelation of a woman he had + never known, whose hungering caresses had made him, as a child, rather + peevish, when a fit of affection was not on him. Suddenly, as he read the + lines touching himself, “Brilliant and able and unscrupulous.... and + though he loves me little, as he loves you little too,” his eye lighted up + with anger, his face became pale—yet he had borne the same truths + from Faith without resentment, in the wood by the mill that other year. + For a moment he stood infuriated, then, going to the fireplace, he dropped + the letter on the coals, as Hylda, in horror, started forward to arrest + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Eglington—but no—no! It is not honourable. It is proof of + all!” + </p> + <p> + He turned upon her slowly, his face rigid, a strange, cold light in his + eyes. “If there is no more proof than that, you need not vex your mind,” + he said, commanding his voice to evenness. + </p> + <p> + A bitter anger was on him. His mother had read him through and through—he + had not deceived her even; and she had given evidence against him to + Hylda, who, he had ever thought, believed in him completely. Now there was + added to the miserable tale, that first marriage, and the rights of David—David, + the man who, he was convinced, had captured her imagination. Hurt vanity + played a disproportionate part in this crisis. + </p> + <p> + The effect on him had been different from what Hylda had anticipated. She + had pictured him stricken and dumfounded by the blow. It had never + occurred to her, it did not now, that he had known the truth; for, of + course, to know the truth was to speak, to restore to David his own, to + step down into the second and unconsidered place. After all, to her mind, + there was no disgrace. The late Earl had married secretly, but he had been + duly married, and he did not marry again until Mercy Claridge was dead. + The only wrong was to David, whose grandfather had been even more to blame + than his own father. She had looked to help Eglington in this moment, and + now there seemed nothing for her to do. He was superior to the situation, + though it was apparent in his pale face and rigid manner that he had been + struck hard. + </p> + <p> + She came near to him, but there was no encouragement to her to play that + part which is a woman’s deepest right and joy and pain in one—to + comfort her man in trouble, sorrow, or evil. Always, always, he stood + alone, whatever the moment might be, leaving her nothing to do—“playing + his own game with his own weapons,” as he had once put it. Yet there was + strength in it too, and this came to her mind now, as though in excuse for + whatever else there was in the situation which, against her will, repelled + her. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry for you,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To lose all that has been yours so long.” + </p> + <p> + This was their great moment. The response to this must be the touchstone + of their lives. A—half dozen words might alter all the future, might + be the watch word to the end of all things. Involuntarily her heart + fashioned the response he ought to give—“I shall have you left, + Hylda.” + </p> + <p> + The air seemed to grow oppressive, and the instant’s silence a torture, + and, when he spoke, his words struck a chill to her heart—rough + notes of pain. “I have not lost yet,” were his words. + </p> + <p> + She shrank. “You will not hide it. You will do right by—by him,” she + said with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Let him establish his claim to the last item of fact,” he said with + savage hate. + </p> + <p> + “Luke Claridge knew. The proofs are but just across the way, no doubt,” + she answered, almost coldly, so had his words congealed her heart. + </p> + <p> + Their great moment had passed. It was as though a cord had snapped that + held her to him, and in the recoil she had been thrown far off from him. + Swift as his mind worked, it had not seen his opportunity to win her to + his cause, to asphyxiate her high senses, her quixotic justice, by that + old flood of eloquence and compelling persuasion of the emotions with + which he had swept her to the altar—an altar of sacrifice. He had + not even done what he had left London to do—make sure of her, by an + alluring flattery and devotion, no difficult duty with one so beautiful + and desirable; though neither love of beauty nor great desire was strong + enough in him to divert him from his course for an hour, save by his own + initiative. His mother’s letter had changed it all. A few hours before he + had had a struggle with Soolsby, and now another struggle on the same + theme was here. Fate had dealt illy with him, who had ever been its + spoiled child and favourite. He had not learned yet the arts of defence + against adversity. + </p> + <p> + “Luke Claridge is dead,” he answered sharply. “But you will tell—him, + you will write to Egypt and tell your brother?” she said, the conviction + slowly coming to her that he would not. + </p> + <p> + “It is not my duty to displace myself, to furnish evidence against myself—” + </p> + <p> + “You have destroyed the evidence,” she intervened, a little scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “If there were no more than that—” He shrugged his shoulders + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know there is more?” she asked searchingly. “In whose interests + are you speaking?” he rejoined, with a sneer. A sudden fury possessed him. + Claridge Pasha—she was thinking of him! + </p> + <p> + “In yours—your conscience, your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “There is over thirty years’ possession on my side,” he rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “It is not as if it were going from your family,” she argued. + </p> + <p> + “Family—what is he to me!” + </p> + <p> + “What is any one to you?” she returned bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to unravel a mystery in order to facilitate the cutting of + my own throat.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be worth while to do something once for another’s sake than your + own—it would break the monotony,” she retorted, all her sense + tortured by his words, and even more so by his manner. + </p> + <p> + Long ago Faith had said in Soolsby’s but that he “blandished” all with + whom he came in contact; but Hylda realised with a lacerated heart that he + had ceased to blandish her. Possession had altered that. Yet how had he + vowed to her in those sweet tempestuous days of his courtship when the + wind of his passion blew so hard! Had one of the vows been kept? + </p> + <p> + Even as she looked at him now, words she had read some days before flashed + through her mind—they had burnt themselves into her brain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Broken faith is the crown of evils, + Broken vows are the knotted thongs + Set in the hands of laughing devils, + To scourge us for deep wrongs. + + “Broken hearts, when all is ended, + Bear the better all after-stings; + Bruised once, the citadel mended, + Standeth through all things.” + </pre> + <p> + Suddenly he turned upon her with aggrieved petulance. “Why are you so + eager for proof?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have,” she said, with a sudden flood of tears in her voice, though + her eyes were dry—“I have the feeling your mother had, that nothing + will be well until you undo the wrong your father did. I know it was not + your fault. I feel for you—oh, believe me, I feel as I have never + felt, could never feel, for myself. It was brought on you by your father, + but you must be the more innocent because he was so guilty. You have had + much out of it, it has helped you on your way. It does not mean so much + now. By-and-by another—an English-peerage may be yours by your own + achievement. Let it go. There is so much left, Harry. It is a small thing + in a world of work. It means nothing to me.” Once again, even when she had + given up all hope, seeing what was the bent of his mind—once again + she made essay to win him out of his selfishness. If he would only say, “I + have you left,” how she would strive to shut all else out of her life! + </p> + <p> + He was exasperated. His usual prescience and prudence forsook him. It + angered him that she should press him to an act of sacrifice for the man + who had so great an influence upon her. Perversity possessed him. Lifelong + egotism was too strong for wisdom, or discretion. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he caught her hands in both of his and said hoarsely: “Do you + love me—answer me, do you love me with all your heart and soul? The + truth now, as though it were your last word on earth.” + </p> + <p> + Always self. She had asked, if not in so many words, for a little love, + something for herself to feed on in the darkening days for him, for her, + for both; and he was thinking only of himself. + </p> + <p> + She shrank, but her hands lay passive in his. “No, not with all my heart + and soul—but, oh—!” + </p> + <p> + He flung her hands from him. “No, not with all your heart and soul—I + know! You are willing to sacrifice me for him, and you think I do not + understand.” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. “You + understand nothing—nothing. If you had ever understood me, or any + human being, or any human heart, you would not have ruined all that might + have given you an undying love, something that would have followed you + through fire and flood to the grave. You cannot love. You do not + understand love. Self—self, always self. Oh, you are mad, mad, to + have thrown it all away, all that might have given happiness! All that I + have, all that I am, has been at your service; everything has been bent + and tuned to your pleasure, for your good. All has been done for you, with + thought of you and your position and your advancement, and now—now, + when you have killed all that might have been yours, you cry out in anger + that it is dying, and you insinuate what you should kill another for + insinuating. Oh, the wicked, cruel folly of it all! You suggest—you + dare! I never heard a word from David Claridge that might not be written + on the hoardings. His honour is deeper than that which might attach to the + title of Earl of Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to tower above him. For an instant she looked him in the eyes + with frigid dignity, but a great scorn in her face. Then she went to the + door—he hastened to open it for her. + </p> + <p> + “You will be very sorry for this,” he said stubbornly. He was too + dumfounded to be discreet, too suddenly embarrassed by the turn affairs + had taken. He realised too late that he had made a mistake, that he had + lost his hold upon her. + </p> + <p> + As she passed through, there suddenly flashed before her mind the scene in + the laboratory with the chairmaker. She felt the meaning of it now. + </p> + <p> + “You do not intend to tell him—perhaps Soolsby has done so,” she + said keenly, and moved on to the staircase. + </p> + <p> + He was thunderstruck at her intuition. “Why do you want to rob yourself?” + he asked after her vaguely. She turned back. “Think of your mother’s + letter that you destroyed,” she rejoined solemnly and quietly. “Was it + right?” + </p> + <p> + He shut the door, and threw himself into a chair. “I will put it straight + with her to-morrow,” he said helplessly. + </p> + <p> + He sat for a half-hour silent, planning his course. + </p> + <p> + At last there came a tap at the door, and the butler appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Some one from the Foreign Office, my lord,” he said. A moment afterwards + a young official, his subordinate, entered. “There’s the deuce to pay in + Egypt, sir; I’ve brought the despatch,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW + </h2> + <p> + Laughing to himself, Higli Pasha sat with the stem of a narghileh in his + mouth. His big shoulders kept time to the quivering of his fat stomach. He + was sitting in a small court-yard of Nahoum Pasha’s palace, waiting for + its owner to appear. Meanwhile he exercised a hilarious patience. The + years had changed him little since he had been sent on that expedition + against the southern tribes which followed hard on David’s appointment to + office. As David had expected, few of the traitorous officers returned. + Diaz had ignominiously died of the bite of a tarantula before a blow had + been struck, but Higli had gratefully received a slight wound in the first + encounter, which enabled him to beat a safe retreat to Cairo. He alone of + the chief of the old conspirators was left. Achmet was still at the Place + of Lepers, and the old nest of traitors was scattered for ever. + </p> + <p> + Only Nahoum and Higli were left, and between these two there had never + been partnership or understanding. Nahoum was not the man to trust to + confederates, and Higli Pasha was too contemptible a coadjutor. Nahoum had + faith in no one save Mizraim the Chief Eunuch, but Mizraim alone was + better than a thousand; and he was secret—and terrible. Yet Higli + had a conviction that Nahoum’s alliance with David was a sham, and that + David would pay the price of misplaced confidence one day. More than once + when David’s plans had had a set-back, Higli had contrived a meeting with + Nahoum, to judge for himself the true position. + </p> + <p> + For his visit to-day he had invented a reason—a matter of finance; + but his real reason was concealed behind the malevolent merriment by which + he was now seized. So absorbed was he that he did not heed the approach of + another visitor down an angle of the court-yard. He was roused by a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s tickling you so, pasha?” + </p> + <p> + The voice was drawling, and quite gentle; but at the sound of it, Higli’s + laugh stopped short, and the muscles of his face contracted. If there was + one man of whom he had a wholesome fear—why, he could not tell—it + was this round-faced, abrupt, imperturbable American, Claridge Pasha’s + right-hand man. Legends of resourcefulness and bravery had gathered round + his name. “Who’s been stroking your chin with a feather, pasha?” he + continued, his eye piercing the other like a gimlet. + </p> + <p> + “It was an amusing tale I heard at Assiout, effendi,” was Higli’s abashed + and surly reply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, at Assiout!” rejoined Lacey. “Yes, they tell funny stories at + Assiout. And when were you at Assiout, pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “Two days ago, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you thought you’d tell the funny little story to Nahoum as quick + as could be, eh? He likes funny stories, same as you—damn, nice, + funny little stories, eh?” + </p> + <p> + There was something chilly in Lacey’s voice now, which Higli did not like; + something much too menacing and contemptuous for a mere man-of-all-work to + the Inglesi. Higli bridled up, his eyes glared sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “It is but my own business if I laugh or if I curse, effendi,” he replied, + his hand shaking a little on the stem of the narghileh. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, my diaphanous polyandrist; but it isn’t quite your own affair + what you laugh at—not if I know it!” + </p> + <p> + “Does the effendi think I was laughing at him?” + </p> + <p> + “The effendi thinks not. The effendi knows that the descendant of a + hundred tigers was laughing at the funny little story, of how the two + cotton-mills that Claridge Pasha built were burned down all in one night, + and one of his steamers sent down the cataract at Assouan. A knock-down + blow for Claridge Pasha, eh? That’s all you thought of, wasn’t it? And it + doesn’t matter to you that the cotton-mills made thousands better off, and + started new industries in Egypt. No, it only matters to you that Claridge + Pasha loses half his fortune, and that you think his feet are in the + quicksands, and ‘ll be sucked in, to make an Egyptian holiday. Anything to + discredit him here, eh? I’m not sure what else you know; but I’ll find + out, my noble pasha, and if you’ve had your hand in it—but no, you + ain’t game-cock enough for that! But if you were, if you had a hand in the + making of your funny little story, there’s a nutcracker that ‘d break the + shell of that joke—” + </p> + <p> + He turned round quickly, seeing a shadow and hearing a movement. Nahoum + was but a few feet away. There was a bland smile on his face, a look of + innocence in his magnificent blue eye. As he met Lacey’s look, the smile + left his lips, a grave sympathy appeared to possess them, and he spoke + softly: + </p> + <p> + “I know the thing that burns thy heart, effendi, to whom be the flowers of + hope and the fruits of merit. It is even so, a great blow has fallen. Two + hours since I heard. I went at once to see Claridge Pasha, but found him + not. Does he know, think you?” he added sadly. + </p> + <p> + “May your heart never be harder than it is, pasha, and when I left the + Saadat an hour ago, he did not know. His messenger hadn’t a steamer like + Higli Pasha there. But he was coming to see you; and that’s why I’m here. + I’ve been brushing the flies off this sore on the hump of Egypt while + waiting.” He glanced with disdain at Higli. + </p> + <p> + A smile rose like liquid in the eye of Nahoum and subsided, then he turned + to Higli inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I have come on business, Excellency; the railway to Rosetta, and—” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow—or the next day,” responded Nahoum irritably, and turned + again to Lacey. + </p> + <p> + As Higli’s huge frame disappeared through a gateway, Nahoum motioned Lacey + to a divan, and summoned a slave for cooling drinks. Lacey’s eyes now + watched him with an innocence nearly as childlike as his own. Lacey well + knew that here was a foe worthy of the best steel. That he was a foe, and + a malignant foe, he had no doubt whatever; he had settled the point in his + mind long ago; and two letters he had received from Lady Eglington, in + which she had said in so many words, “Watch Nahoum!” had made him vigilant + and intuitive. He knew, meanwhile, that he was following the trail of a + master-hunter who covered up his tracks. Lacey was as certain as though he + had the book of Nahoum’s mind open in his hand, that David’s work had been + torn down again—and this time with dire effect—by this + Armenian, whom David trusted like a brother. But the black doors that + closed on the truth on every side only made him more determined to unlock + them; and, when he faltered as to his own powers, he trusted Mahommed + Hassan, whose devotion to David had given him eyes that pierced dark + places. + </p> + <p> + “Surely the God of Israel has smitten Claridge Pasha sorely. My heart will + mourn to look upon his face. The day is insulting in its brightness,” + continued Nahoum with a sigh, his eyes bent upon Lacey, dejection in his + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Lacey started. “The God of Israel!” How blasphemous it sounded from the + lips of Nahoum, Oriental of Orientals, Christian though he was also! + </p> + <p> + “I think, perhaps, you’ll get over it, pasha. Man is born to trouble, and + you’ve got a lot of courage. I guess you could see other people bear a + pile of suffering, and never flinch.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum appeared not to notice the gibe. “It is a land of suffering, + effendi,” he sighed, “and one sees what one sees.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea, any real sensible idea, how those cotton-mills got + afire?” Lacey’s eyes were fixed on Nahoum’s face. + </p> + <p> + The other met his gaze calmly. “Who can tell! An accident, perhaps, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Or some one set the mills on fire in several places at once—they + say the buildings flamed out in every corner; and it was the only time in + a month they hadn’t been running night and day. Funny, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like the work of an enemy, effendi.” Nahoum shook his head + gravely. “A fortune destroyed in an hour, as it were. But we shall get the + dog. We shall find him. There is no hole deep enough to hide him from us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn’t go looking in holes for him, pasha. + </p> + <p> + “He isn’t any cave-dweller, that incendiary; he’s an artist—no + palace is too unlikely for him. No, I wouldn’t go poking in mud-huts to + find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou dost not think that Higli Pasha—” Nahoum seemed startled out + of equanimity by the thought. Lacey eyed him meditatively, and said + reflectively: “Say, you’re an artist, pasha. You are a guesser of the + first rank. But I’d guess again. Higli Pasha would have done it, if it had + ever occurred to him; and he’d had the pluck. But it didn’t, and he + hadn’t. What I can’t understand is that the artist that did it should have + done it before Claridge Pasha left for the Soudan. Here we were just about + to start; and if we’d got away south, the job would have done more harm, + and the Saadat would have been out of the way. No, I can’t understand why + the firebug didn’t let us get clean away; for if the Saadat stays here, + he’ll be where he can stop the underground mining.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum’s self-control did not desert him, though he fully realised that + this man suspected him. On the surface Lacey was right. It would have + seemed better to let David go, and destroy his work afterwards, but he had + been moved by other considerations, and his design was deep. His own + emissaries were in the Soudan, announcing David’s determination to abolish + slavery, secretly stirring up feeling against him, preparing for the final + blow to be delivered, when he went again among the southern tribes. He had + waited and waited, and now the time was come. Had he, Nahoum, not agreed + with David that the time had come for the slave-trade to go? Had he not + encouraged him to take this bold step, in the sure belief that it would + overwhelm him, and bring him an ignominious death, embittered by total + failure of all he had tried to do? + </p> + <p> + For years he had secretly loosened the foundations of David’s work, and + the triumph of Oriental duplicity over Western civilisation and integrity + was sweet in his mouth. And now there was reason to believe that, at last, + Kaid was turning against the Inglesi. Everything would come at once. If + all that he had planned was successful, even this man before him should + aid in his master’s destruction. + </p> + <p> + “If it was all done by an enemy,” he said, in answer to Lacey, at last, + “would it all be reasoned out like that? Is hatred so logical? Dost thou + think Claridge Pasha will not go now? The troops are ready at Wady-Halfa, + everything is in order; the last load of equipment has gone. Will not + Claridge Pasha find the money somehow? I will do what I can. My heart is + moved to aid him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you’d do what you could, pasha,” Lacey rejoined enigmatically, “but + whether it would set the Saadat on his expedition or not is a question. + But I guess, after all, he’s got to go. He willed it so. People may try to + stop him, and they may tear down what he does, but he does at last what he + starts to do, and no one can prevent him—not any one. Yes, he’s + going on this expedition; and he’ll have the money, too.” There was a + strange, abstracted look in his face, as though he saw something which + held him fascinated. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as if with an effort, he rose to his feet, took the red fez + from his head, and fanned himself with it for a moment. “Don’t you forget + it, pasha; the Saadat will win. He can’t be beaten, not in a thousand + years. Here he comes.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum got to his feet, as David came quickly through the small gateway of + the court-yard, his head erect, his lips smiling, his eyes sweeping the + place. He came forward briskly to them. It was plain he had not heard the + evil news. + </p> + <p> + “Peace be to thee, Saadat, and may thy life be fenced about with safety!” + said Nahoum. + </p> + <p> + David laid a hand on Lacey’s arm and squeezed it, smiling at him with such + friendship that Lacey’s eyes moistened, and he turned his head away. + </p> + <p> + There was a quiet elation in David’s look. “We are ready at last,” he + said, looking from one to the other. “Well, well,” he added, almost + boyishly, “has thee nothing to say, Nahoum?” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum turned his head away as though overcome. David’s face grew + instantly grave. He turned to Lacey. Never before had he seen Lacey’s face + with a look like this. He grasped Lacey’s arm. “What is it?” he asked + quietly. “What does thee want to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + But Lacey could not speak, and David turned again to Nahoum. “What is + there to say to me?” he asked. “Something has happened—what is + it?... Come, many things have happened before. This can be no worse. Do + thee speak,” he urged gently. + </p> + <p> + “Saadat,” said Nahoum, as though under the stress of feeling, “the + cotton-mills at Tashah and Mini are gone—burned to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment David looked at him without sight in his eyes, and his face + grew very pale. “Excellency, all in one night, the besom of destruction + was abroad,” he heard Nahoum say, as though from great depths below him. + He slowly turned his head to look at Lacey. “Is this true?” he asked at + last in an unsteady voice. Lacey could not speak, but inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + David’s figure seemed to shrink for a moment, his face had a withered + look, and his head fell forward in a mood of terrible dejection. + </p> + <p> + “Saadat! Oh, my God, Saadat, don’t take it so!” said Lacey brokenly, and + stepped between David and Nahoum. He could not bear that the stricken face + and figure should be seen by Nahoum, whom he believed to be secretly + gloating. “Saadat,” he said brokenly, “God has always been with you; He + hasn’t forgotten you now. + </p> + <p> + “The work of years,” David murmured, and seemed not to hear. + </p> + <p> + “When God permits, shall man despair?” interposed Nahoum, in a voice that + lingered on the words. Nahoum accomplished what Lacey had failed to do. + His voice had pierced to some remote corner in David’s nature, and roused + him. Was it that doubt, suspicion, had been wakened at last? Was some + sensitive nerve touched, that this Oriental should offer Christian comfort + to him in his need—to him who had seen the greater light? Or was it + that some unreality in the words struck a note which excited a new and + subconscious understanding? Perhaps it was a little of all three. He did + not stop to inquire. In crises such as that through which he was passing, + the mind and body act without reason, rather by the primal instinct, the + certain call of the things that were before reason was. + </p> + <p> + “God is with the patient,” continued Nahoum; and Lacey set his teeth to + bear this insult to all things. But Nahoum accomplished what he had not + anticipated. David straightened himself up, and clasped his hands behind + him. By a supreme effort of the will he controlled himself, and the colour + came back faintly to his face. “God’s will be done,” he said, and looked + Nahoum calmly in the eyes. “It was no accident,” he added with conviction. + “It was an enemy of Egypt.” Suddenly the thing rushed over him again, + going through his veins like a poisonous ether, and clamping his heart as + with iron. “All to do over again!” he said brokenly, and again he caught + Lacey’s arm. + </p> + <p> + With an uncontrollable impulse Lacey took David’s hand in his own warm, + human grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Once I thought I lost everything in Mexico, Saadat, and I understand what + you feel. But all wasn’t lost in Mexico, as I found at last, and I got + something, too, that I didn’t put in. Say, let us go from here. God is + backing you, Saadat. Isn’t it all right—same as ever?” + </p> + <p> + David was himself again. “Thee is a good man,” he said, and through the + sadness of his eyes there stole a smile. “Let us go,” he said. Then he + added in a businesslike way: “To-morrow at seven, Nahoum. There is much to + do.” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the gate with Lacey, where the horses waited. Mahommed + Hassan met them as they prepared to mount. He handed David a letter. It + was from Faith, and contained the news of Luke Claridge’s death. + Everything had come at once. He stumbled into the saddle with a moan. + </p> + <p> + “At last I have drawn blood,” said Nahoum to himself with grim + satisfaction, as they disappeared. “It is the beginning of the end. It + will crush him-I saw it in his eyes. God of Israel, I shall rule again in + Egypt!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THE RECOIL + </h2> + <p> + It was a great day in the Muslim year. The Mahmal, or Sacred Carpet, was + leaving Cairo on its long pilgrimage of thirty-seven days to Mecca and + Mahomet’s tomb. Great guns boomed from the Citadel, as the gorgeous + procession, forming itself beneath the Mokattam Hills, began its slow + march to where, seated in the shade of an ornate pavilion, Prince Kaid + awaited its approach to pay devout homage. Thousands looked down at the + scene from the ramparts of the Citadel, from the overhanging cliffs, and + from the tops of the houses that hung on the ledges of rock rising + abruptly from the level ground, to which the last of the famed Mamelukes + leaped to their destruction. + </p> + <p> + Now to Prince Kaid’s ears there came from hundreds of hoarse throats the + cry: “Allah! Allah! May thy journey be with safety to Arafat!” mingling + with the harsh music of the fifes and drums. + </p> + <p> + Kaid looked upon the scene with drawn face and lowering brows. His retinue + watched him with alarm. A whisper had passed that, two nights before, the + Effendina had sent in haste for a famous Italian physician lately come to + Cairo, and that since his visit Kaid had been sullen and depressed. It was + also the gossip of the bazaars that he had suddenly shown favour to those + of the Royal House and to other reactionaries, who had been enemies to the + influence of Claridge Pasha. + </p> + <p> + This rumour had been followed by an official proclamation that no + Europeans or Christians would be admitted to the ceremony of the Sacred + Carpet. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Kaid looked out on a vast multitude of Muslims, in which + not one European face showed, and from lip to lip there passed the word, + “Harrik—Harrik—remember Harrik! Kaid turns from the infidel!” + </p> + <p> + They crowded near the great pavilion—as near as the mounted Nubians + would permit—to see Kaid’s face; while he, with eyes wandering over + the vast assemblage, was lost in dark reflections. For a year he had + struggled against a growing conviction that some obscure disease was + sapping his strength. He had hid it from every one, until, at last, + distress and pain had overcome him. The verdict of the Italian expert was + that possible, but by no means certain, cure might come from an operation + which must be delayed for a month or more. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the world had grown unfamiliar to him; he saw it from afar; but + his subconscious self involuntarily registered impressions, and he moved + mechanically through the ceremonies and duties of the immediate present. + Thrown back upon himself, to fight his own fight, with the instinct of + primary life his mind involuntarily drew for refuge to the habits and + predispositions of youth; and for two days he had shut himself away from + the activities with which David and Nahoum were associated. Being deeply + engaged with the details of the expedition to the Soudan, David had not + gone to the Palace; and he was unaware of the turn which things had taken. + </p> + <p> + Three times, with slow and stately steps, the procession wound in a circle + in the great square, before it approached the pavilion where the Effendina + sat, the splendid camels carrying the embroidered tent wherein the Carpet + rested, and that which bore the Emir of the pilgrims, moving gracefully + like ships at sea. Naked swordsmen, with upright and shining blades, were + followed by men on camels bearing kettle-drums. After them came Arab + riders with fresh green branches fastened to the saddles like plumes, + while others carried flags and banners emblazoned with texts and symbols. + Troops of horsemen in white woollen cloaks, sheikhs and Bedouins with + flowing robes and huge turbans, religious chiefs of the great sects, + imperturbable and statuesque, were in strange contrast to the shouting + dervishes and camel-drivers and eager pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + At last the great camel with its sacred burden stopped in front of Kaid + for his prayer and blessing. As he held the tassels, lifted the + gold-fringed curtain, and invoked Allah’s blessing, a half-naked sheikh + ran forward, and, raising his hand high above his head, cried shrilly: + “Kaid, Kaid, hearken!” + </p> + <p> + Rough hands caught him away, but Kaid commanded them to desist; and the + man called a blessing on him; and cried aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Listen, O Kaid, son of the stars and the light of day. God hath exalted + thee. Thou art the Egyptian of all the Egyptians. In thy hand is power. + But thou art mortal even as I. Behold, O Kaid, in the hour that I was born + thou wast born, I in the dust without thy Palace wall, thou amid the + splendid things. But thy star is my star. Behold, as God ordains, the Tree + of Life was shaken on the night when all men pray and cry aloud to God—even + the Night of the Falling Leaves. And I watched the falling leaves; and I + saw my leaf, and it was withered, but only a little withered, and so I + live yet a little. But I looked for thy leaf, thou who wert born in that + moment when I waked to the world. I looked long, but I found no leaf, + neither green nor withered. But I looked again upon my leaf, and then I + saw that thy name now was also upon my leaf, and that it was neither green + nor withered; but was a leaf that drooped as when an evil wind has passed + and drunk its life. Listen, O Kaid! Upon the tomb of Mahomet I will set my + lips, and it may be that the leaf of my life will come fresh and green + again. But thou—wilt thou not come also to the lord Mahomet’s tomb? + Or”—he paused and raised his voice—“or wilt thou stay and lay + thy lips upon the cross of the infidel? Wilt thou—” + </p> + <p> + He could say no more, for Kaid’s face now darkened with anger. He made a + gesture, and, in an instant, the man was gagged and bound, while a sullen + silence fell upon the crowd. Kaid suddenly became aware of this change of + feeling, and looked round him. Presently his old prudence and subtlety + came back, his face cleared a little, and he called aloud, “Unloose the + man, and let him come to me.” An instant after, the man was on his knees, + silent before him. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy name?” Kaid asked. + </p> + <p> + “Kaid Ibrahim, Effendina,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast misinterpreted thy dream, Kaid Ibrahim,” answered the + Effendina. “The drooping leaf was token of the danger in which thy life + should be, and my name upon thy leaf was token that I should save thee + from death. Behold, I save thee. Inshallah, go in peace! There is no God + but God, and the Cross is the sign of a false prophet. Thou art mad. God + give thee a new mind. Go.” + </p> + <p> + The man was presently lost in the sweltering, half-frenzied crowd; but he + had done his work, and his words rang in the ears of Kaid as he rode away. + </p> + <p> + A few hours afterwards, bitter and rebellious, murmuring to himself, Kaid + sat in a darkened room of his Nile Palace beyond the city. So few years on + the throne, so young, so much on which to lay the hand of pleasure, so + many millions to command; and yet the slave at his door had a surer hold + on life and all its joys and lures than he, Prince Kaid, ruler of Egypt! + There was on him that barbaric despair which has taken dreadful toll of + life for the decree of destiny. Across the record of this day, as across + the history of many an Eastern and pagan tyrant, was written: “He would + not die alone.” That the world should go on when he was gone, that men + should buy and sell and laugh and drink, and flaunt it in the sun, while + he, Prince Kaid, would be done with it all. + </p> + <p> + He was roused by the rustling of a robe. Before him stood the Arab + physician, Sharif Bey, who had been in his father’s house and his own for + a lifetime. It was many a year since his ministrations to Kaid had ceased; + but he had remained on in the Palace, doing service to those who received + him, and—it was said by the evil-tongued—granting certificates + of death out of harmony with dark facts, a sinister and useful figure. His + beard was white, his face was friendly, almost benevolent, but his eyes + had a light caught from no celestial flame. + </p> + <p> + His look was confident now, as his eyes bent on Kaid. He had lived long, + he had seen much, he had heard of the peril that had been foreshadowed by + the infidel physician; and, by a sure instinct, he knew that his own + opportunity had come. He knew that Kaid would snatch at any offered + comfort, would cherish any alleviating lie, would steal back from science + and civilisation and the modern palace to the superstition of the fellah’s + hut. Were not all men alike when the neboot of Fate struck them down into + the terrible loneliness of doom, numbing their minds? Luck would be with + him that offered first succour in that dark hour. Sharif had come at the + right moment for Sharif. + </p> + <p> + Kaid looked at him with dull yet anxious eyes. “Did I not command that + none should enter?” he asked presently in a thick voice. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not thy physician, Effendina, to whom be the undying years? When the + Effendina is sick, shall I not heal? Have I not waited like a dog at thy + door these many years, till that time would come when none could heal thee + save Sharif?” + </p> + <p> + “What canst thou give me?” + </p> + <p> + “What the infidel physician gave thee not—I can give thee hope. Hast + thou done well, oh, Effendina, to turn from thine own people? Did not + thine own father, and did not Mehemet Ali, live to a good age? Who were + their physicians? My father and I, and my father’s father, and his + father’s father.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou canst cure me altogether?” asked Kaid hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Wilt thou not have faith in one of thine own race? Will the infidel love + thee as do we, who are thy children and thy brothers, who are to thee as a + nail driven in the wall, not to be moved? Thou shalt live—Inshallah, + thou shalt have healing and length of days!” + </p> + <p> + He paused at a gesture from Kaid, for a slave had entered and stood + waiting. + </p> + <p> + “What dost thou here? Wert thou not commanded?” asked Kaid. + </p> + <p> + “Effendina, Claridge Pasha is waiting,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Kaid frowned, hesitated; then, with a sudden resolve, made a gesture of + dismissal to Sharif Bey, and nodded David’s admittance to the slave. + </p> + <p> + As David entered, he passed Sharif Bey, and something in the look on the + Arab physician’s face—a secret malignancy and triumph—struck + him strangely. And now a fresh anxiety and apprehension rose in his mind + as he glanced at Kaid. The eye was heavy and gloomy, the face was clouded, + the lips once so ready to smile at him were sullen and smileless now. + David stood still, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect thee till to-morrow, Saadat,” said Kaid moodily at last. + </p> + <p> + “The business is urgent?” + </p> + <p> + “Effendina,” said David, with every nerve at tension, yet with outward + self-control, “I have to report—” He paused, agitated; then, in a + firm voice, he told of the disaster which had befallen the cotton-mills + and the steamer. + </p> + <p> + As David spoke, Kaid’s face grew darker, his fingers fumbled vaguely with + the linen of the loose white robe he wore. When the tale was finished he + sat for a moment apparently stunned by the news, then he burst out + fiercely: + </p> + <p> + “Bismillah, am I to hear only black words to-day? Hast thou naught to say + but this—the fortune of Egypt burned to ashes!” + </p> + <p> + David held back the quick retort that came to his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Half my fortune is in the ashes,” he answered with dignity. “The rest + came from savings never made before by this Government. Is the work less + worthy in thy sight, Effendina, because it has been destroyed? Would thy + life be less great and useful because a blow took thee from behind?” + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s face turned black. David had bruised an open wound. + </p> + <p> + “What is my life to thee—what is thy work to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Thy life is dear to Egypt, Effendina,” urged David soothingly, “and my + labour for Egypt has been pleasant in thine eyes till now.” + </p> + <p> + “Egypt cannot be saved against her will,” was the moody response. “What + has come of the Western hand upon the Eastern plough?” His face grew + blacker; his heart was feeding on itself. + </p> + <p> + “Thou, the friend of Egypt, hast come of it, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “Harrik was right, Harrik was right,” Kaid answered, with stubborn gloom + and anger. “Better to die in our own way, if we must die, than live in the + way of another. Thou wouldst make of Egypt another England; thou wouldst + civilise the Soudan—bismillah, it is folly!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way Mehemet Ali thought, nor Ibrahim. Nor dost thou think + so, Effendina,” David answered gravely. “A dark spirit is on thee. Wouldst + thou have me understand that what we have done together, thou and I, was + ill done, that the old bad days were better?” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to thine own land,” was the surly answer. “Nation after nation + ravaged Egypt, sowed their legions here, but the Egyptian has lived them + down. The faces of the fellaheen are the faces of Thotmes and Seti. Go + back. Egypt will travel her own path. We are of the East; we are Muslim. + What is right to you is wrong to us. Ye would make us over—give us + cotton beds and wooden floors and fine flour of the mill, and cleanse the + cholera-hut with disinfectants, but are these things all? How many of your + civilised millions would die for their prophet Christ? Yet all Egypt would + rise up from the mud-floor, the dourha-field and the mud-hut, and would + come out to die for Mahomet and Allah—ay, as Harrik knew, as Harrik + knew! Ye steal into corners, and hide behind the curtains of your beds to + pray; we pray where the hour of prayer finds us—in the street, in + the market-place, where the house is building, the horse being shod, or + the money-changers are. Ye hear the call of civilisation, but we heap the + Muezzin—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and searched mechanically for his watch. “It is the hour the + Muezzin calls,” said David gently. “It is almost sunset. Shall I open the + windows that the call may come to us?” he added. + </p> + <p> + While Kaid stared at him, his breast heaving with passion, David went to a + window and opened the shutters wide. + </p> + <p> + The Palace faced the Nile, which showed like a tortuous band of blue and + silver a mile or so away. Nothing lay between but the brown sand, and here + and there a handful of dark figures gliding towards the river, or a little + train of camels making for the bare grey hills from the ghiassas which had + given them their desert loads. The course of the Nile was marked by a wide + fringe of palms showing blue and purple, friendly and ancient and + solitary. Beyond the river and the palms lay the grey-brown desert, + faintly touched with red. So clear was the sweet evening air that the + irregular surface of the desert showed for a score of miles as plainly as + though it were but a step away. Hummocks of sand—tombs and fallen + monuments gave a feeling as of forgotten and buried peoples; and the two + vast pyramids of Sakkarah stood up in the plaintive glow of the evening + skies, majestic and solemn, faithful to the dissolved and absorbed races + who had built them. Curtains of mauve and saffron-red were hung behind + them, and through a break of cloud fringing the horizon a yellow glow + poured, to touch the tips of the pyramids with poignant splendour. But + farther over to the right, where Cairo lay, there hung a bluish mist, + palpable and delicate, out of which emerged the vast pyramids of Cheops; + and beside it the smiling inscrutable Sphinx faced the changeless + centuries. Beyond the pyramids the mist deepened into a vast deep cloud of + blue and purple, which seemed the end to some mystic highway untravelled + by the sons of men. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there swept over David a wave of feeling such as had passed over + Kaid, though of a different nature. Those who had built the pyramids were + gone, Cheops and Thotmes and Amenhotep and Chefron and the rest. There had + been reformers in those lost races; one age had sought to better the last, + one man had toiled to save—yet there only remained offensive bundles + of mummied flesh and bone and a handful of relics in tombs fifty centuries + old. Was it all, then, futile? Did it matter, then, whether one man + laboured or a race aspired? + </p> + <p> + Only for a moment these thoughts passed through his mind; and then, as the + glow through the broken cloud on the opposite horizon suddenly faded, and + veils of melancholy fell over the desert and the river and the palms, + there rose a call, sweetly shrill, undoubtingly insistent. Sunset had + come, and, with it, the Muezzin’s call to prayer from the minaret of a + mosque hard by. + </p> + <p> + David was conscious of a movement behind him—that Kaid was praying + with hands uplifted; and out on the sands between the window and the river + he saw kneeling figures here and there, saw the camel-drivers halt their + trains, and face the East with hands uplifted. The call went on—“La + ilaha illa-llah!” + </p> + <p> + It called David, too. The force and searching energy and fire in it stole + through his veins, and drove from him the sense of futility and + despondency which had so deeply added to his trouble. There was something + for him, too, in that which held infatuated the minds of so many millions. + </p> + <p> + A moment later Kaid and he faced each other again. “Effendina,” he said, + “thou wilt not desert our work now?” + </p> + <p> + “Money—for this expedition? Thou hast it?” Kaid asked ironically. + </p> + <p> + “I have but little money, and it must go to rebuild the mills, Effendina. + I must have it of thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them remain in their ashes.” + </p> + <p> + “But thousands will have no work.” + </p> + <p> + “They had work before they were built, they will have work now they are + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Effendina, I stayed in Egypt at thy request. The work is thy work. Wilt + thou desert it?” + </p> + <p> + “The West lured me—by things that seemed. Now I know things as they + are.” + </p> + <p> + “They will lure thee again to-morrow,” said David firmly, but with a + weight on his spirit. His eyes sought and held Kaid’s. “It is too late to + go back; we must go forward or we shall lose the Soudan, and a Mahdi and + his men will be in Cairo in ten years.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Kaid was startled. The old look of energy and purpose + leaped up into his eye; but it faded quickly again. If, as the Italian + physician more than hinted, his life hung by a thread, did it matter + whether the barbarian came to Cairo? That was the business of those who + came after. If Sharif was right, and his life was saved, there would be + time enough to set things right. + </p> + <p> + “I will not pour water on the sands to make an ocean,” he answered. “Will + a ship sail on the Sahara? Bismillah, it is all a dream! Harrik was right. + But dost thou think to do with me as thou didst with Harrik?” he sneered. + “Is it in thy mind?” + </p> + <p> + David’s patience broke down under the long provocation. “Know then, + Effendina,” he said angrily, “that I am not thy subject, nor one beholden + to thee, nor thy slave. Upon terms well understood, I have laboured here. + I have kept my obligations, and it is thy duty to keep thy obligations, + though the hand of death were on thee. I know not what has poisoned thy + mind, and driven thee from reason and from justice. I know that, Prince + Pasha of Egypt as thou art, thou art as bound to me as any fellah that + agrees to tend my door or row my boat. Thy compact with me is a compact + with England, and it shall be kept, if thou art an honest man. Thou mayst + find thousands in Egypt who will serve thee at any price, and bear thee in + any mood. I have but one price. It is well known to thee. I will not be + the target for thy black temper. This is not the middle ages; I am an + Englishman, not a helot. The bond must be kept; thou shalt not play fast + and loose. Money must be found; the expedition must go. But if thy purpose + is now Harrik’s purpose, then Europe should know, and Egypt also should + know. I have been thy right hand, Effendina; I will not be thy old shoe, + to be cast aside at thy will.” + </p> + <p> + In all the days of his life David had never flamed out as he did now. + Passionate as his words were, his manner was strangely quiet, but his + white and glistening face and his burning eyes showed how deep was his + anger. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Kaid sank upon the divan. Never had he been challenged so. + With his own people he had ever been used to cringing and abasement, and + he had played the tyrant, and struck hard and cruelly, and he had been + feared; but here, behind David’s courteous attitude, there was a scathing + arraignment of his conduct which took no count of consequence. In other + circumstances his vanity would have shrunk under this whip of words, but + his native reason and his quick humour would have justified David. In this + black distemper possessing him, however, only outraged egotism prevailed. + His hands clenched and unclenched, his lips were drawn back on his teeth + in rage. + </p> + <p> + When David had finished, Kaid suddenly got to his feet and took a step + forward with a malediction, but a faintness seized him and he staggered + back. When he raised his head again David was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. LACEY MOVES + </h2> + <p> + If there was one glistening bead of sweat on the bald pate of Lacey of + Chicago there were a thousand; and the smile on his face was not less + shining and unlimited. He burst into the rooms of the palace where David + had residence, calling: “Oyez! Oyez! Saadat! Oh, Pasha of the Thousand + Tails! Oyez! Oyez!” + </p> + <p> + Getting no answer, he began to perform a dance round the room, which in + modern days is known as the negro cake-walk. It was not dignified, but it + would have been less dignified still performed by any other living man of + forty-five with a bald head and a waist-band ten inches too large. Round + the room three times he went, and then he dropped on a divan. He gasped, + and mopped his face and forehead, leaving a little island of moisture on + the top of his head untouched. After a moment, he gained breath and + settled down a little. Then he burst out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Are you coming to my party, O effendi? + There’ll be high jinks, there’ll be welcome, there’ll be room; + For to-morrow we are pulling stakes for Shendy. + Are you coming to my party, O Nahoum?” + </pre> + <p> + “Say, I guess that’s pretty good on the spur of the moment,” he wheezed, + and, taking his inseparable note book from his pocket, wrote the impromptu + down. “I guess She’ll like that-it rings spontaneous. She’ll be tickled, + tickled to death, when she knows what’s behind it.” He repeated it with + gusto. “She’ll dote on it,” he added—the person to whom he referred + being the sister of the American Consul, the little widow, “cute as she + can be,” of whom he had written to Hylda in the letter which had brought a + crisis in her life. As he returned the note-book to his pocket a door + opened. Mahommed Hassan slid forward into the room, and stood still, + impassive and gloomy. Lacey beckoned, and said grotesquely: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Come hither, come hither, my little daughter, + And do not tremble so!’” + </pre> + <p> + A sort of scornful patience was in Mahommed’s look, but he came nearer and + waited. + </p> + <p> + “Squat on the ground, and smile a smile of mirth, Mahommed,” Lacey said + riotously. “‘For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ + the May!’” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed’s face grew resentful. “O effendi, shall the camel-driver laugh + when the camels are lost in the khamsin and the water-bottle is empty?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, O son of the spreading palm; but this is not a desert, nor + a gaudy caravan. This is a feast of all angels. This is the day when + Nahoum the Nefarious is to be buckled up like a belt, and ridden in a + ring. Where is the Saadat?” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone, effendi! Like a mist on the face of the running water, so was + his face; like eyes that did not see, so was his look. ‘Peace be to thee, + Mahommed, thou art faithful as Zaida,’ he said, and he mounted and rode + into the desert. I ran after till he was come to the edge of the desert; + but he sent me back, saying that I must wait for thee; and this word I was + to say, that Prince Kaid had turned his face darkly from him, and that the + finger of Sharif—” + </p> + <p> + “That fanatical old quack—Harrik’s friend!” + </p> + <p> + “—that the finger of Sharif was on his pulse; but the end of all was + in the hands of God.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, exactly, the finger of Sharif on his pulse! The old story-the + return to the mother’s milk, throwing back to all the Pharaohs. Well, what + then?” he added cheerfully, his smile breaking out again. “Where has he + gone, our Saadat?” + </p> + <p> + “To Ebn Ezra Bey at the Coptic Monastery by the Etl Tree, where your + prophet Christ slept when a child.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey hummed to himself meditatively. “A sort of last powwow—Rome + before the fall. Everything wrong, eh? Kaid turned fanatic, Nahoum on the + tiles watching for the Saadat to fall, things trembling for want of hard + cash. That’s it, isn’t it, Mahommed?” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed nodded, but his look was now alert, and less sombre. He had + caught at something vital and confident in Lacey’s tone. He drew nearer, + and listened closely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, my gentle gazelle, listen unto me,” continued Lacey. He + suddenly leaned forward, and spoke in subdued but rapid tones. “Say, + Mahommed, once upon a time there was an American man, with a shock of red + hair, and a nature like a spring-lock. He went down to Mexico, with a + million or two of his own money got honestly by an undisputed will from an + undisputed father—you don’t understand that, but it doesn’t matter—and + with a few millions of other people’s money, for to gamble in mines and + railways and banks and steamship companies—all to do with Mexico + what the Saadat has tried to do in Egypt with less money; but not for the + love of Allah, same as him. This American was going to conquer like + Cortez, but his name was Thomas Tilman Lacey, and he had a lot of gall. + After years of earnest effort, he lost his hair and the millions of the + Infatuated Conquistadores. And by-and-by he came to Cairo with a + thimbleful of income, and began to live again. There was a civil war going + on in his own country, but he thought that one out of forty millions would + not be strictly missed. So he stayed in Egypt; and the tale of his days in + Egypt, is it not written with a neboot of domwood in the book of Mahommed + Hassan the scribe?” + </p> + <p> + He paused and beamed upon the watchful Mahommed, who, if he did not + understand all that had been said, was in no difficulty as to the drift + and meaning of the story. + </p> + <p> + “Aiwa, effendi,” he urged impatiently. “It is a long ride to the Etl Tree, + and the day is far spent.” + </p> + <p> + “Inshallah, you shall hear, my turtle-dove! One day there came to Cairo, + in great haste, a man from Mexico, looking for the foolish one called T. + T. Lacey, bearing glad news. And the man from Mexico blew his trumpet, and + straightway T. T. Lacey fell down dismayed. The trumpet said that a + million once lost in Mexico was returned, with a small flock of other + millions; for a mine, in which it was sunk, had burst forth with a stony + stream of silver. And behold! Thomas Tilman Lacey, the despised waster of + his patrimony and of other people’s treasure, is now, O son of the + fig-flower, richer than Kaid Pasha and all his eunuchs.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mahommed Hassan leaned forward, then backward, and, after the + fashion of desert folk, gave a shrill, sweet ululation that seemed to fill + the palace. + </p> + <p> + “Say, that’s A1,” Lacey said, when Mahommed’s voice sank to a whisper of + wild harmony. “Yes, you can lick my boots, my noble sheikh of Manfaloot,” + he added, as Mahommed caught his feet and bent his head upon them. “I + wanted to do something like that myself. Kiss ‘em, honey; it’ll do you + good.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment, Mahommed drew back and squatted before him in an attitude + of peace and satisfaction. “The Saadat—you will help him? You will + give him money?” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s put it in this way, Mahommed: I’ll invest in an expedition out of + which I expect to get something worth while—concessions for mines + and railways, et cetera.” He winked a round, blue eye. “Business is + business, and the way to get at the Saadat is to talk business; but you + can make up your mind that, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘To-morrow, we are pulling stakes for Shendy! + Are you coming to my party, O Nahoum?’” + </pre> + <p> + “By the prophet Abraham, but the news is great news,” said Mahommed with a + grin. “But the Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll try and square the Effendina,” answered Lacey. “Perhaps the + days of backsheesh aren’t done in Egypt, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “And Nahoum Pasha?” asked Mahommed, with a sinister look. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we’ll try and square him, too, but in another way.” + </p> + <p> + “The money, it is in Egypt?” queried Mahommed, whose idea was that money + to be real must be seen. “Something that’s as handy and as marketable,” + answered Lacey. “I can raise half a million to-morrow; and that will do a + lot of what we want. How long will it take to ride to the monastery?” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed told him. + </p> + <p> + Lacey was about to leave the room, when he heard a voice outside. + “Nahoum!” he said, and sat down again on the divan. “He has come to see + the Saadat, I suppose; but it’ll do him good to see me, perhaps. Open the + sluices, Mahommed.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, Nahoum would be glad to see the effendi, since Claridge Pasha was not + in Cairo. When would Claridge Pasha return? If, then, the effendi expected + to see the Saadat before his return to Cairo, perhaps he would convey a + message. He could not urge his presence on the Saadat, since he had not + been honoured with any communication since yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s good-mannered, anyhow, pasha,” said Lacey with cheerful + nonchalance. “People don’t always know when they’re wanted or not wanted.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum looked at him guardedly, sighed and sat down. “Things have grown + worse since yesterday,” he said. “Prince Kaid received the news badly.” He + shook his head. “He has not the gift of perfect friendship. That is a + Christian characteristic; the Muslim does not possess it. It was too + strong to last, maybe—my poor beloved friend, the Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it will last all right,” rejoined Lacey coolly. “Prince Kaid has got + a touch of jaundice, I guess. He knows a thing when he finds it, even if + he hasn’t the gift of ‘perfect friendship,’ same as Christians like you + and me. But even you and me don’t push our perfections too far—I + haven’t noticed you going out of your way to do things for your ‘poor + beloved friend, the Saadat’.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given him time, energy, experience—money.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey nodded. “True. And I’ve often wondered why, when I’ve seen the + things you didn’t give and the things you took away.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum’s eyes half closed. Lacey was getting to close quarters with + suspicion and allusion; but it was not his cue to resent them yet. + </p> + <p> + “I had come now to offer him help; to advance him enough to carry through + his expedition.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that sounds generous, but I guess he would get on without it, + pasha. He would not want to be under any more obligations to you.” + </p> + <p> + “He is without money. He must be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + “He cannot go to the treasury, and Prince Kaid has refused. Why should he + decline help from his friend?” Suddenly Lacey changed his tactics. He had + caught a look in Nahoum’s eyes which gave him a new thought. “Well, if + you’ve any proposition, pasha, I’ll take it to him. I’ll be seeing him + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I can give him fifty thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t enough to save the situation, pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “It will help him over the first zareba.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any conditions?” + </p> + <p> + “There are no conditions, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “And interest?” + </p> + <p> + “There would be no interest in money.” + </p> + <p> + “Other considerations?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, other considerations, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “If they were granted, would there be enough still in the stocking to help + him over a second zareba—or a third, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be possible, even likely, I think. Of course we speak in + confidence, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “The confidence of the ‘perfect friendship.’” + </p> + <p> + “There may be difficulty, because the Saadat is sensitive; but it is the + only way to help him. I can get the money from but one source; and to get + it involves an agreement.” + </p> + <p> + “You think his Excellency would not just jump at it—that it might + hurt some of his prejudices, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “So, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “And me—where am I in it, pasha?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast great influence with his Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “I am his servant—I don’t meddle with his prejudices, pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “But if it were for his own good, to save his work here.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey yawned almost ostentatiously. “I guess if he can’t save it himself + it can’t be saved, not even when you reach out the hand of perfect + friendship. You’ve been reaching out for a long time, pasha, and it didn’t + save the steamer or the cotton-mills; and it didn’t save us when we were + down by Sobat a while ago, and you sent Halim Bey to teach us to be + patient. We got out of that nasty corner by sleight of hand, but not your + sleight of hand, pasha. Your hand is a quick hand, but a sharp eye can see + the trick, and then it’s no good, not worth a button.” + </p> + <p> + There was something savage behind Nahoum’s eyes, but they did not show it; + they blinked with earnest kindness and interest. The time would come when + Lacey would go as his master should go, and the occasion was not far off + now; but it must not be forced. Besides, was this fat, amorous-looking + factotum of Claridge Pasha’s as Spartan-minded as his master? Would he be + superior to the lure of gold? He would see. He spoke seriously, with + apparent solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “Thou dost not understand, effendi. Claridge Pasha must have money. + Prestige is everything in Egypt, it is everything with Kaid. If Claridge + Pasha rides on as though nothing has happened—and money is the only + horse that can carry him—Kaid will not interfere, and his black mood + may pass; but any halting now and the game is done.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want the game to go on right bad, don’t you? Well, I guess you’re + right. Money is the only winner in this race. He’s got to have money, + sure. How much can you raise? Oh, yes, you told me! Well, I don’t think + it’s enough; he’s got to have three times that; and if he can’t get it + from the Government, or from Kaid, it’s a bad lookout. What’s the bargain + you have in your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “That the slave-trade continue, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey did not wink, but he had a shock of surprise. On the instant he saw + the trap—for the Saadat and for himself. + </p> + <p> + “He would not do it—not for money, pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “He would not be doing it for money. The time is not ripe for it, it is + too dangerous. There is a time for all things. If he will but wait!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t like to be the man that’d name the thing to him. As you say, + he’s got his prejudices. They’re stronger than in most men.” + </p> + <p> + “It need not be named to him. Thou canst accept the money for him, and + when thou art in the Soudan, and he is going to do it, thou canst prevent + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that I’ve taken the money and that he’s used it, and he oughtn’t + to go back on the bargain I made for him? So that he’ll be bound by what I + did?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the best way, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “He’d be annoyed,” said Lacey with a patient sigh. + </p> + <p> + “He has a great soul; but sometimes he forgets that expediency is the true + policy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet he’s done a lot of things without it. He’s never failed in what he + set out to do. What he’s done has been kicked over, but he’s done it all + right, somehow, at last.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not be able to do this, effendi, except with my help—and + thine.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s had quite a lot of things almost finished, too,” said Lacey + reflectively, “and then a hand reached out in the dark and cut the wires—cut + them when he was sleeping, and he didn’t know; cut them when he was + waking, and he wouldn’t understand; cut them under his own eyes, and he + wouldn’t see; because the hand that cut them was the hand of the perfect + friend.” + </p> + <p> + He got slowly to his feet, as a cloud of colour drew over the face of + Nahoum and his eyes darkened with astonishment and anger. Lacey put his + hands in his pockets and waited till Nahoum also rose. Then he gathered + the other’s eyes to his, and said with drawling scorn: + </p> + <p> + “So, you thought I didn’t understand! You thought I’d got a brain like a + peanut, and wouldn’t drop onto your game or the trap you’ve set. You’d + advance money—got from the slave-dealers to prevent the slave-trade + being stopped! If Claridge Pasha took it and used it, he could never stop + the slave-trade. If I took it and used it for him on the same terms, he + couldn’t stop the slave-trade, though he might know no more about the + bargain than a babe unborn. And if he didn’t stand by the bargain I made, + and did prohibit slave-dealing, nothing’d stop the tribes till they + marched into Cairo. He’s been safe so far, because they believed in him, + and because he’d rather die a million deaths than go crooked. Say, I’ve + been among the Dagos before—down in Mexico—and I’m onto you. + I’ve been onto you for a good while; though there was nothing I could spot + certain; but now I’ve got you, and I’ll break the ‘perfect friendship’ or + I’ll eat my shirt. I’ll—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, realising the crisis in which David was moving, and that perils + were thick around their footsteps. But, even as he thought of them, he + remembered David’s own frank, fearless audacity in danger and difficulty, + and he threw discretion to the winds. He flung his flag wide, and believed + with a belief as daring as David’s that all would be well. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what wilt thou do?” asked Nahoum with cool and deadly menace. “Thou + wilt need to do it quickly, because, if it is a challenge, within + forty-eight hours Claridge Pasha and thyself will be gone from Egypt—or + I shall be in the Nile.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take my chances, pasha,” answered Lacey, with equal coolness. “You + think you’ll win. It’s not the first time I’ve had to tackle men like you—they’ve + got the breed in Mexico. They beat me there, but I learned the game, and + I’ve learned a lot from you, too. I never knew what your game was here. I + only know that the Saadat saved your life, and got you started again with + Kaid. I only know that you called yourself a Christian, and worked on him + till he believed in you, and Hell might crackle round you, but he’d + believe, till he saw your contract signed with the Devil—and then + he’d think the signature forged. But he’s got to know now. We are not + going out of Egypt, though you may be going to the Nile; but we are going + to the Soudan, and with Kaid’s blessing, too. You’ve put up the bluff, and + I take it. Be sure you’ve got Kaid solid, for, if you haven’t, he’ll be + glad to know where you keep the money you got from the slave-dealers.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum shrugged his shoulders. “Who has seen the money? Where is the + proof? Kaid would know my reasons. It is not the first time virtue has + been tested in Egypt, or the first time that it has fallen.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself Lacey laughed. “Say, that’s worthy of a great + Christian intellect. You are a bright particular star, pasha. I take it + back—they’d learn a lot from you in Mexico. But the only trouble + with lying is, that the demand becomes so great you can’t keep all the + cards in your head, and then the one you forget does you. The man that + isn’t lying has the pull in the long run. You are out against us, pasha, + and we’ll see how we stand in forty-eight hours. You have some cards up + your sleeve, I suppose; but—well, I’m taking you on. I’m taking you + on with a lot of joy, and some sorrow, too, for we might have pulled off a + big thing together, you and Claridge Pasha, with me to hold the stirrups. + Now it’s got to be war. You’ve made it so. It’s a pity, for when we grip + there’ll be a heavy fall.” + </p> + <p> + “For a poor man thou hast a proud stomach.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll admit the stomach, pasha. It’s proud; and it’s strong, too; + it’s stood a lot in Egypt; it’s standing a lot to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll ease the strain, perhaps,” sneered Nahoum. He made a perfunctory + salutation and walked briskly from the room. + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Hassan crept in, a malicious grin on his face. Danger and + conflict were as meat and drink to him. + </p> + <p> + “Effendi, God hath given thee a wasp’s sting to thy tongue. It is well. + Nahoum Pasha hath Mizraim: the Saadat hath thee and me.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s the Effendina,” said Lacey reflectively. “Thou saidst thou would + ‘square’ him, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “I say a lot,” answered Lacey rather ruefully. “Come, Mahommed, the Saadat + first, and the sooner the better.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. THE STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And His mercy is on them that fear Him throughout all generations.” + </pre> + <p> + On the clear, still evening air the words rang out over the desert, + sonorous, imposing, peaceful. As the notes of the verse died away the + answer came from other voices in deep, appealing antiphonal: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He hath showed strength with His arm, He hath scattered the proud + in the imagination of their hearts.” + </pre> + <p> + Beyond the limits of the monastery there was not a sign of life; neither + beast nor bird, nor blade of grass, nor any green thing; only the perfect + immemorial blue, and in the east a misty moon, striving in vain to offer + light which the earth as yet rejected for the brooding radiance of the + descending sun. But at the great door of the monastery there grew a + stately palm, and near by an ancient acacia-tree; and beyond the stone + chapel there was a garden of struggling shrubs and green things, with one + rose-tree which scattered its pink leaves from year to year upon the loam, + since no man gathered bud or blossom. + </p> + <p> + The triumphant call of the Magnificat, however beautiful, seemed strangely + out of place in this lonely island in a sea of sand. It was the song of a + bannered army, marching over the battle-field with conquering voices, and + swords as yet unsheathed and red, carrying the spoils of conquest behind + the laurelled captain of the host. The crumbling and ancient walls were + surrounded by a moat which a stranger’s foot crossed hardly from moon to + moon, which the desert wayfarer sought rarely, since it was out of the + track of caravans, and because food was scant in the refectory of this + Coptic brotherhood. It was scarce five hours’ ride from the Palace of the + Prince Pasha: but it might have been a thousand miles away, so profoundly + separate was it from the world of vital things and deeds of men. + </p> + <p> + As the chant rang out, confident, majestic, and serene, carried by voices + of power and shrill sweetness, which only the desert can produce, it might + have seemed to any listener that this monastery was all that remained of + some ancient kingdom of brimming, active cities, now lying beneath the + obliterating sand, itself the monument and memorial of a breath of mercy + of the Destroyer, the last refuge of a few surviving captains of a + departed greatness. Hidden by the grey, massive walls, built as it were to + resist the onset of a ravaging foe, the swelling voices might well have + been those of some ancient order of valiant knights, whose banners hung + above them, the ‘riclame’ of their deeds. But they were voices and voices + only; for they who sang were as unkempt and forceless as the lonely wall + which shut them in from the insistent soul of the desert. + </p> + <p> + Desolation? The desert was not desolate. Its face was bare and burning, it + slaked no man’s thirst, gave no man food, save where scattered oases were + like the breasts of a vast mother eluding the aching lips of her parched + children; but the soul of the desert was living and inspiring, beating + with vitality. It was life that burned like flame. If the water-skin was + dry and the date-bag empty it smothered and destroyed; but it was life; + and to those who ventured into its embrace, obeying the conditions of the + sharp adventure, it gave what neither sea, nor green plain, nor high + mountain, nor verdant valley could give—a consuming sense of power, + which found its way to the deepest recesses of being. Out upon the vast + sea of sand, where the descending sun was spreading a note of incandescent + colour, there floated the grateful words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He remembering His mercy hath holpen His servant Israel; as He + promised to our forefathers, Abraham, and his seed for ever.” + </pre> + <p> + Then the antiphonal ceased; and together the voices of all within the + place swelled out in the Gloria and the Amen, and seemed to pass away in + ever-receding vibrations upon the desert, till it was lost in the + comforting sunset. + </p> + <p> + As the last note died away, a voice from beneath the palm-tree near the + door, deeper than any that had come from within, said reverently: + “Ameen-Ameen!” + </p> + <p> + He who spoke was a man well over sixty years, with a grey beard, lofty + benign forehead, and the eyes of a scholar and a dreamer. As he uttered + the words of spiritual assent, alike to the Muslim and the Christian + religion, he rose to his feet, showing the figure of a man of action, + alert, well-knit, authoritative. Presently he turned towards the East and + stretched a robe upon the ground, and with stately beauty of gesture he + spread out his hands, standing for a moment in the attitude of aspiration. + Then, kneeling, he touched his turbaned head to the ground three times, + and as the sun drew down behind the sharp, bright line of sand that marked + the horizon, he prayed devoutly and long. It was Ebn Ezra Bey. + </p> + <p> + Muslim though he was, he had visited this monastery many times, to study + the ancient Christian books which lay in disordered heaps in an ill-kept + chamber, books which predated the Hegira, and were as near to the life of + the Early Church as the Scriptures themselves—or were so reputed. + Student and pious Muslim as he was, renowned at El Azhar and at every + Muslim university in the Eastern world, he swore by the name of Christ as + by that of Abraham, Isaac, and all the prophets, though to him Mahomet was + the last expression of Heaven’s will to mankind. At first received at the + monastery with unconcealed aversion, and not without danger to himself, he + had at last won to him the fanatical monks, who, in spirit, kept this + ancient foundation as rigid to their faith as though it were in mediaeval + times. And though their discipline was lax, and their daily duties + orderless, this was Oriental rather than degenerate. Here Ebn Ezra had + stayed for weeks at a time in the past, not without some religious + scandal, long since forgotten. + </p> + <p> + His prayers ended, he rose up slowly, once more spread out his hands in + ascription, and was about to enter the monastery, when, glancing towards + the west, he saw a horseman approaching. An instinct told him who it was + before he could clearly distinguish the figure, and his face lighted with + a gentle and expectant smile. Then his look changed. + </p> + <p> + “He is in trouble,” he murmured. “As it was with his uncle in Damascus, so + will it be with him. Malaish, we are in the will of God!” + </p> + <p> + The hand that David laid in Ebn Ezra’s was hot and nervous, the eyes that + drank in the friendship of the face which had seen two Claridges emptying + out their lives in the East were burning and famished by long fasting of + the spirit, forced abstinence from the pleasures of success and + fruition-haunting, desiring eyes, where flamed a spirit which consumed the + body and the indomitable mind. The lips, however, had their old trick of + smiling, though the smile which greeted Ebn Ezra Bey had a melancholy + which touched the desert-worn, life-spent old Arab as he had not been + touched since a smile, just like this, flashed up at him from the + weather-stained, dying face of quaint Benn Claridge in a street of + Damascus. The natural duplicity of the Oriental had been abashed and + inactive before the simple and astounding honesty of these two Quaker + folk. + </p> + <p> + He saw crisis written on every feature of the face before him. Yet the + scanty meal they ate with the monks in the ancient room was enlivened by + the eager yet quiet questioning of David, to whom the monks responded with + more spirit than had been often seen in this arid retreat. The single + torch which spluttered from the wall as they drank their coffee lighted up + faces as strange, withdrawn, and unconsciously secretive as ever gathered + to greet a guest. Dim tales had reached them of this Christian reformer + and administrator, scraps of legend from stray camel-drivers, a letter + from the Patriarch commanding them to pray blessings on his labours—who + could tell what advantage might not come to the Coptic Church through him, + a Christian! On the dull, torpid faces, light seemed struggling to live + for a moment, as David talked. It was as though something in their meagre + lives, which belonged to undeveloped feelings, was fighting for existence—a + light struggling to break through murky veils of inexperience. + </p> + <p> + Later, in the still night, however—still, though air vibrated + everywhere, as though the desert breathed an ether which was to fill men’s + veins with that which quieted the fret and fever of life’s disillusions + and forgeries and failures—David’s speech with Ebn Ezra Bey was of a + different sort. If, as it seems ever in the desert, an invisible host of + beings, once mortal, now immortal, but suspensive and understanding, + listened to the tale he unfolded, some glow of pity must have possessed + them; for it was an Iliad of herculean struggle against absolute disaster, + ending with the bitter news of his grandfather’s death. It was the story + of AEdipus overcome by events too strong for soul to bear. In return, as + the stars wheeled on, and the moon stole to the zenith, majestic and slow, + Ebn Ezra offered to his troubled friend only the philosophy of the + predestinarian, mingled with the calm of the stoic. But something + antagonistic to his own dejection, to the Muslim’s fatalism, emerged from + David’s own altruism, to nerve him to hope and effort still. His + unconquerable optimism rose determinedly to the surface, even as he summed + up and related the forces working against him. + </p> + <p> + “They have all come at once,” he said; “all the activities opposing me, + just as though they had all been started long ago at different points, + with a fixed course to run, and to meet and give me a fall in the hour + when I could least resist. You call it Fate. I call it what it proves + itself to be. But here it is a hub of danger and trouble, and the spokes + of disaster are flying to it from all over the compass, to make the wheel + that will grind me; and all the old troop of Palace intriguers and + despoilers are waiting to heat the tire and fasten it on the machine of + torture. Kaid has involved himself in loans which press, in foolish + experiments in industry without due care; and now from ill-health and bad + temper comes a reaction towards the old sinister rule, when the Prince + shuts his eyes and his agents ruin and destroy. Three nations who have + intrigued against my work see their chance, and are at Kaid’s elbow. The + fate of the Soudan is in the balance. It is all as the shake of a feather. + I can save it if I go; but, just as I am ready, my mills burn down, my + treasury dries up, Kaid turns his back on me, and the toil of years is + swept away in a night. Thee sees it is terrible, friend?” + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra looked at him seriously and sadly for a moment, and then said: + “Is it given one man to do all? If many men had done these things, then + there had been one blow for each. Now all falls on thee, Saadat. Is it the + will of God that one man should fling the lance, fire the cannon, dig the + trenches, gather food for the army, drive the horses on to battle, and + bury the dead? Canst thou do all?” + </p> + <p> + David’s eyes brightened to the challenge. “There was the work to do, and + there were not the many to do it. My hand was ready; the call came; I + answered. I plunged into the river of work alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou didst not know the strength of the currents, the eddies and the + whirlpools, the hidden rocks—and the shore is far off, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not so far but that, if I could get breath to gather strength, I + should reach the land in time. Money—ah, but enough for this + expedition! That over, order, quiet yonder, my own chosen men as + governors, and I could”—he pointed towards the southern horizon—“I + could plant my foot in Cairo, and from the centre control the great + machinery—with Kaid’s help; and God’s help. A sixth of a million, + and Kaid’s hand behind me, and the boat would lunge free of the sand-banks + and churn on, and churn on.... Friend,” he added, with the winning + insistence that few found it possible to resist, “if all be well, and we + go thither, wilt thou become the governor-general yonder? With thee to + rule justly where there is most need of justice, the end would be sure—if + it be the will of God.” + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra Bey sat for a moment looking into the worn, eager face, + indistinct in the moonlight, then answered slowly: “I am seventy, and the + years smite hard as they pass, and there or here, it little matters when I + go, as I must go; and whether it be to bend the lance, or bear the flag + before thee, or rule a Mudirieh, what does it matter! I will go with + thee,” he added hastily; “but it is better thou shouldst not go. Within + the last three days I have news from the South. All that thou hast done + there is in danger now. The word for revolt has passed from tribe to + tribe. A tongue hath spoken, and a hand hath signalled”—his voice + lowered—“and I think I know the tongue and the hand!” He paused; + then, as David did not speak, continued: “Thou who art wise in most + things, dost decline to seek for thy foe in him who eateth from the same + dish with thee. Only when it is too late thou wilt defend thyself and all + who keep faith with thee.” + </p> + <p> + David’s face clouded. “Nahoum, thou dost mean Nahoum? But thou dost not + understand, and there is no proof.” + </p> + <p> + “As a camel knows the coming storm while yet the sky is clear, by that + which the eye does not see, so do I feel Nahoum. The evils thou hast + suffered, Saadat, are from his hand, if from any hand in Egypt—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he leaned over and touched David’s arm. “Saadat, it is of no + avail. There is none in Egypt that desires good; thy task is too great. + All men will deceive thee; if not now, yet in time. If Kaid favours thee + once more, and if it is made possible for thee to go to the Soudan, yet I + pray thee to stay here. Better be smitten here, where thou canst get help + from thine own country, if need be, than yonder, where they but wait to + spoil thy work and kill thee. Thou art young; wilt thou throw thy life + away? Art thou not needed here as there? For me it is nothing, whether it + be now or in a few benumbing years; but for thee—is there no one + whom thou lovest so well that thou wouldst not shelter thy life to spare + that life sorrow? Is there none that thou lovest so, and that will love + thee to mortal sorrow, if thou goest without care to thy end too soon?” + </p> + <p> + As a warm wind suddenly sweeps across the cool air of a summer evening for + an instant, suffocating and unnerving, so Ebn Ezra’s last words swept + across David’s spirit. His breath came quicker, his eyes half closed. “Is + there none that thou lovest so, and that will love thee to mortal sorrow, + if—” + </p> + <p> + As a hand secretly and swiftly slips the lever that opens the sluice-gates + of a dike, while the watchman turns away for a moment to look at the + fields which the waters enrich and the homes of poor folk whom the gates + defend, so, in a moment, when off his guard, worn with watching and + fending, as it were, Ebn Ezra had sprung the lever, and a flood of feeling + swept over David, drowned him in its impulse and pent-up force. + </p> + <p> + “Is there none that thou lovest so—” Of what use had been all his + struggle and his pain since that last day in Hamley—his dark + fighting days in the desert with Lacey and Mahommed, and his handful of + faithful followers, hemmed in by dangers, the sands swarming with Arabs + who feathered now to his safety, now to his doom, and his heart had + hungered for what he had denied it with a will that would not be + conquered? Wasted by toil and fever and the tension of danger and the care + of others dependent on him, he had also fought a foe which was ever at his + elbow, ever whispered its comfort and seduction in his ear, the insidious + and peace-giving, exalting opiate that had tided him over some black + places, and then had sought for mastery of him when he was back again in + the world of normal business and duty, where it appealed not as a + medicine, but as a perilous luxury. And fighting this foe, which had a + voice so soothing, and words like the sound of murmuring waters, and a + cool and comforting hand that sought to lead him into gardens of stillness + and passive being, where he could no more hear the clangour and vexing + noises of a world that angered and agonised, there had also been the lure + of another passion of the heart, which was too perilously dear to + contemplate. Eyes that were beautiful, and their beauty was not for him; a + spirit that was bright and glowing, but the brightness and the glow might + not renew his days. It was hard to fight alone. Alone he was, for only to + one may the doors within doors be opened-only to one so dear that all else + is everlastingly distant may the true tale of the life beneath life be + told. And it was not for him—nothing of this; not even the thought + of it; for to think of it was to desire it, and to desire it was to reach + out towards it; and to reach out towards it was the end of all. There had + been moments of abandonment to the alluring dream, such as when he wrote + the verses which Lacey had sent to Hylda from the desert; but they were + few. Oft-repeated, they would have filled him with an agitated melancholy + impossible to be borne in the life which must be his. + </p> + <p> + So it had been. The deeper into life and its labours and experiences he + had gone, the greater had been his temptations, born of two passions, one + of the body and its craving, the other of the heart and its desires: and + he had fought on—towards the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Is there none that thou lovest so, and that will love thee to mortal + sorrow, if thou goest without care to thy end too soon?” The desert, the + dark monastery, the acacia tree, the ancient palm, the ruinous garden, + disappeared. He only saw a face which smiled at him, as it had done ‘by + the brazier in the garden at Cairo, that night when she and Nahoum and + himself and Mizraim had met in the room of his house by the Ezbekieh + gardens, and she had gone out to her old life in England, and he had taken + up the burden of the East—that long six years ago. His head dropped + in his hands, and all that was beneath the Quaker life he had led so many + years, packed under the crust of form and habit, and regulated thought, + and controlled emotion, broke forth now, and had its way with him. + </p> + <p> + He turned away staggering and self-reproachful from the first question, + only to face the other—“And that will love thee to mortal sorrow, if + thou goest without care to thy end too soon.” It was a thought he had + never let himself dwell on for an instant in all the days since they had + last met. He had driven it back to its covert, even before he could + recognise its face. It was disloyal to her, an offence against all that + she was, an affront to his manhood to let the thought have place in his + mind even for one swift moment. She was Lord Eglington’s wife—there + could be no sharing of soul and mind and body and the exquisite devotion + of a life too dear for thought. Nothing that she was to Eglington could be + divided with another, not for an hour, not by one act of impulse; or else + she must be less, she that might have been, if there had been no Eglington— + </p> + <p> + An exclamation broke from him, and, as one crying out in one’s sleep wakes + himself, so the sharp cry of his misery woke him from the trance of memory + that had been upon him, and he slowly became conscious of Ebn Ezra + standing before him. Their eyes met, and Ebn Ezra spoke: + </p> + <p> + “The will of Allah be thy will, Saadat. If it be to go to the Soudan, I am + thine; if it be to stay, I am thy servant and thy brother. But whether it + be life or death, thou must sleep, for the young are like water without + sleep. Thou canst not live in strength nor die with fortitude without it. + For the old, malaish, old age is between a sleeping and a waking! Come, + Saadat! Forget not, thou must ride again to Cairo at dawn.” + </p> + <p> + David got slowly to his feet and turned towards the monastery. The figure + of a monk stood in the doorway with a torch to light him to his room. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Ebn Ezra again. “Does thee think that I have aught of his + courage—my Uncle Benn? Thou knowest me—shall I face it out as + did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Saadat,” the old man answered, pointing, “yonder acacia, that was he, + quick to grow and short to live; but thou art as this date-palm, which + giveth food to the hungry, and liveth through generations. Peace be upon + thee,” he added at the doorway, as the torch flickered towards the room + where David was to lie. + </p> + <p> + “And upon thee, peace!” answered David gently, and followed the smoky + light to an inner chamber. The room in which David found himself was lofty + and large, but was furnished with only a rough wooden bed, a rug, and a + brazier. Left alone, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and, for a few + moments, his mind strayed almost vaguely from one object to another. From + two windows far up in the wall the moonlight streamed in, making bars of + light aslant the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Not a sound broke the stillness. Yet, to his sensitive nerves, the air + seemed tingling with sensation, stirring with unseen activities. Here the + spirit of the desert seemed more insistent in its piercing vitality, + because it was shut in by four stone walls. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically he took off his coat, and was about to fold and lay it on the + rug beside the bed, when something hard in one of the pockets knocked + against his knee. Searching, he found and drew forth a small bottle which, + for many a month past, had lain in the drawer of a table where he had + placed it on his return from the Soudan. It was an evil spirit which sent + this tiny phial to his hand at a moment when he had paid out of the full + treasury of his strength and will its accumulated deposit, leaving him + with a balance on which no heavy draft could be made. His pulse quickened, + then his body stiffened with the effort at self-control. + </p> + <p> + Who placed this evil elixir in his pocket? What any enemy of his work had + done was nothing to what might be achieved by the secret foe, who had + placed this anodyne within his reach at this the most critical moment of + his life. He remembered the last time he had used it—in the desert: + two days of forgetfulness to the world, when it all moved by him, the + swarming Arabs, the train of camels, the loads of ivory, the slimy + crocodile on the sandbanks, the vultures hovering above unburied + carcasses, the kourbash descending on shining black shoulders, corrugating + bare brown bodies into cloven skin and lacerated flesh, a fight between + champions of two tribes who clasped and smote and struggled and rained + blows, and, both mortally wounded, still writhed in last conflict upon the + ground—and Mahommed Hassan ever at the tent door or by his side, + towering, watchful, sullen to all faces without, smiling to his own, with + dog-like look waiting for any motion of his hand or any word.... Ah, + Mahommed Hassan, it was he! Mahommed had put this phial in his pocket. His + bitter secret was not hidden from Mahommed. And this was an act of supreme + devotion—to put at his hand the lulling, inspiring draught. Did this + fellah servant know what it meant—the sin of it, the temptation, the + terrible joy, the blessed quiet; and then, the agonising remorse, the + withering self-hatred and torturing penitence? No, Mahommed only knew that + when the Saadat was gone beyond his strength, when the sleepless nights + and feverish days came in the past, in their great troubles, when men were + dying and only the Saadat could save, that this cordial lifted him out of + misery and storm into calm. Yet Mahommed must have divined that it was a + thing against which his soul revolted, or he would have given it to him + openly. In the heart and mind of the giant murderer, however, must have + been the thought that now when trouble was upon his master again, trouble + which might end all, this supreme destroyer of pain and dark memory and + present misery, would give him the comfort he needed—and that he + would take it. + </p> + <p> + If he had not seen it, this sudden craving would not have seized him for + this eager beguiling, this soothing benevolence. Yet here it was in his + hand; and even as it lay in his cold fingers—how cold they were, and + his head how burning!—the desire for it surged up in him. And, as + though the thing itself had the magical power to summon up his troubles, + that it might offer the apathy and stimulus in one—even as it lured + him, his dangers, his anxieties, the black uncertainties massed, + multiplied and aggressive, rose before him, buffeted him, caught at his + throat, dragged down his shoulders, clutched at his heart. + </p> + <p> + Now, with a cry of agony, he threw the phial on the ground, and, sinking + on the bed, buried his face in his hands and moaned, and fought for + freedom from the cords tightening round him. It was for him to realise now + how deep are the depths to which the human soul can sink, even while + labouring to climb. Once more the sense of awful futility was on him: of + wasted toil and blenched force, veins of energy drained of their blood, + hope smitten in the way, and every dear dream shattered. Was it, then, all + ended? Was his work indeed fallen, and all his love undone? Was his own + redemption made impossible? He had offered up his life to this land to + atone for a life taken when she—when she first looked up with eyes + of gratitude, eyes that haunted him. Was it, then, unacceptable? Was it so + that he must turn his back upon this long, heart-breaking but beloved + work, this panacea for his soul, without which he could not pay the price + of blood? + </p> + <p> + Go back to England—to Hamley where all had changed, where the old + man he loved no longer ruled in the Red Mansion, where all that had been + could be no more? Go to some other land, and there begin again another + such a work? Were there not vast fields of human effort, effort such as + his, where he could ease the sorrow of living by the joy of a divine + altruism? Go back to Hamley? Ah, no, a million times, no! That life was + dead, it was a cycle of years behind him. There could be no return. He was + in a maelstrom of agony, his veins were afire, his lips were parched. He + sprang from his bed, knelt down, and felt for the little phial he had + flung aside. After a moment his hand caught it, clutched it. But, even at + the crest of the wave of temptation, words that he had heard one night in + Hamley, that last night of all, flashed into his mind—the words of + old Luke Claridge’s prayer, “And if a viper fasten on his hand, O Lord—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he paused. That scene in the old Meetinghouse swam before his + eyes, got into his brain. He remembered the words of his own prayer, and + how he had then retreated upon the Power that gave him power, for a + draught of the one true tincture which braced the heart to throw itself + upon the spears of trial. Now the trial had come, and that which was in + him as deep as being, the habit of youth, the mother-fibre and + predisposition, responded to the draught he had drunk then. As a body + freed from the quivering, unrelenting grasp of an electric battery + subsides into a cool quiet, so, through his veins seemed to pass an ether + which stilled the tumult, the dark desire to drink the potion in his hand, + and escape into that irresponsible, artificial world, where he had before + loosened his hold on activity. + </p> + <p> + The phial slipped from his fingers to the floor. He sank upon the side of + the bed, and, placing his hands on his knees, he whispered a few broken + words that none on earth was meant to hear. Then he passed into a strange + and moveless quiet of mind and body. Many a time in days gone by—far-off + days—had he sat as he was doing now, feeling his mind pass into a + soft, comforting quiet, absorbed in a sensation of existence, as it were + between waking and sleeping, where doors opened to new experience and + understanding, where the mind seemed to loose itself from the bonds of + human necessity and find a freer air. + </p> + <p> + Now, as he sat as still as the stone in the walls around him, he was + conscious of a vision forming itself before his eyes. At first it was + indefinite, vague, without clear form, but at last it became a room dimly + outlined, delicately veiled, as it were. Then it seemed, not that the mist + cleared, but that his eyes became stronger, and saw through the delicate + haze; and now the room became wholly, concretely visible. + </p> + <p> + It was the room in which he had said good-bye to Hylda. As he gazed like + one entranced, he saw a figure rise from a couch, pale, agitated, and + beautiful, and come forward, as it were, towards him. But suddenly the + mist closed in again upon the scene, a depth of darkness passed his eyes, + and he heard a voice say: “Speak—speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + He heard her voice as distinctly as though she were beside him—as, + indeed, she had stood before him but an instant ago. + </p> + <p> + Getting slowly to his feet, into the night he sent an answer to the call. + </p> + <p> + Would she hear? She had said long ago that she would speak to him so. + Perhaps she had tried before. But now at last he had heard and answered. + Had she heard? Time might tell—if ever they met again. But how good, + and quiet, and serene was the night! + </p> + <p> + He composed himself to sleep, but, as he lay waiting for that coverlet of + forgetfulness to be drawn over him, he heard the sound of bells soft and + clear. Just such bells he had heard upon the common at Hamley. Was it, + then, the outcome of his vision—a sweet hallucination? He leaned + upon his elbow and listened. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE + </h2> + <p> + The bells that rang were not the bells of Hamley; they were part of no + vision or hallucination, and they drew David out of his chamber into the + night. A little group of three stood sharply silhouetted against the + moonlight, and towering above them was the spare, commanding form of Ebn + Ezra Bey. Three camels crouched near, and beside them stood a Nubian lad + singing to himself the song of the camel-driver: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Fleet is thy foot: thou shalt rest by the Etl tree; + Water shalt thou drink from the blue-deep well; + Allah send His gard’ner with the green bersim, + For thy comfort, fleet one, by the Etl tree. + As the stars fly, have thy footsteps flown + Deep is the well, drink, and be still once more; + Till the pursuing winds panting have found thee + And, defeated, sink still beside thee— + By the well and the Etl tree.” + </pre> + <p> + For a moment David stood in the doorway listening to the low song of the + camel-driver. Then he came forward. As he did so, one of the two who stood + with Ebn Ezra moved towards the monastery door slowly. It was a monk with + a face which, even in this dim light, showed a deathly weariness. The eyes + looked straight before him, as though they saw nothing of the world, only + a goal to make, an object to be accomplished. The look of the face went to + David’s heart—the kinship of pain was theirs. + </p> + <p> + “Peace be to thee,” David said gently, as the other passed him. + </p> + <p> + There was an instant’s pause, and then the monk faced him with fingers + uplifted. “The grace of God be upon thee, David,” he said, and his eyes, + drawn back from the world where they had been exploring, met the other’s + keenly. Then he wheeled and entered the monastery. + </p> + <p> + “The grace of God be upon thee, David!” How strange it sounded, this + Christian blessing in response to his own Oriental greeting, out in this + Eastern waste. His own name, too. It was as though he had been transported + to the ancient world where “Brethren” were so few that they called each + other by their “Christian” names—even as they did in Hamley to-day. + In Hamley to-day! He closed his eyes, a tremor running through his body; + and then, with an effort which stilled him to peace again, he moved + forward, and was greeted by Ebn Ezra, from whom the third member of the + little group had now drawn apart nearer to the acacia-tree, and was seated + on a rock that jutted from the sand. “What is it?” David asked. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldst thou not sleep, Saadat? Sleep is more to thee now than aught thou + mayst hear from any man. To all thou art kind save thyself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have rested,” David answered, with a measured calmness, revealing to + his friend the change which had come since they parted an hour before. + They seated themselves under the palm-tree, and were silent for a moment, + then Ebn Ezra said: + </p> + <p> + “These come from the Place of Lepers.” + </p> + <p> + David started slightly. “Zaida?” he asked, with a sigh of pity. + </p> + <p> + “The monk who passed thee but now goes every year to the Place of Lepers + with the caravan, for a brother of this order stays yonder with the + afflicted, seeing no more the faces of this world which he has left + behind. Afar off from each other they stand—as far as eye can see—and + after the manner of their faith they pray to Allah, and he who has just + left us finds a paper fastened with a stone upon the sand at a certain + place where he waits. He touches it not, but reads it as it lies, and, + having read, heaps sand upon it. And the message which the paper gives is + for me.” + </p> + <p> + “For thee? Hast thou there one who—” + </p> + <p> + “There was one, my father’s son, though we were of different mothers; and + in other days, so many years ago, he did great wrong to me, and not to me + alone,”—the grey head bowed in sorrow—“but to one dearer to me + than life. I hated him, and would have slain him, but the mind of Allah is + not the mind of man; and he escaped me. Then he was stricken with leprosy, + and was carried to the place from whence no leper returns. At first my + heart rejoiced; then, at last, I forgave him, Saadat—was he not my + father’s son, and was the woman not gone to the bosom of Allah, where is + peace? So I forgave and sorrowed for him—who shall say what miseries + are those which, minute to minute, day after day, and year upon year, + repeat themselves, till it is an endless flaying of the body and burning + of the soul! Every year I send a message to him, and every year now this + Christian monk—there is no Sheikh-el-Islam yonder—brings back + the written message which he finds in the sand.” + </p> + <p> + “And thee has had a message to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “The last that may come—God be praised, he goeth to his long home. + It was written in his last hour. There was no hope; he is gone. And so, + one more reason showeth why I should go where thou goest, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + Casting his eyes toward the figure by the acacia-tree, his face clouded + and he pondered anxiously, looking at David the while. Twice he essayed to + speak, but paused. + </p> + <p> + David’s eyes followed his look. “What is it? Who is he—yonder?” + </p> + <p> + The other rose to his feet. “Come and see, Saadat,” he replied. “Seeing, + thou wilt know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Zaida—is it of Zaida?” David asked. + </p> + <p> + “The man will answer for himself, Saadat.” Coming within a few feet of the + figure crouched upon the rock, Ebn Ezra paused and stretched out a hand. + “A moment, Saadat. Dost thou not see, dost thou not recognise him?” + </p> + <p> + David intently studied the figure, which seemed unconscious of their + presence. The shoulders were stooping and relaxed as though from great + fatigue, but David could see that the figure was that of a tall man. The + head was averted, but a rough beard covered the face, and, in the light of + the fire, one hand that clutched it showed long and skinny and yellow and + cruel. The hand fascinated David’s eyes. Where had he seen it? It flashed + upon him—a hand clutching a robe, in a frenzy of fear, in the + court-yard of the blue tiles, in Kaid’s Palace—Achmet the Ropemaker! + He drew back a step. + </p> + <p> + “Achmet,” he said in a low voice. The figure stirred, the hand dropped + from the beard and clutched the knee; but the head was not raised, and the + body remained crouching and listless. + </p> + <p> + “He escaped?” David said, turning to Ebn Ezra Bey. + </p> + <p> + “I know not by what means—a camel-driver bribed, perhaps, and a + camel left behind for him. After the caravan had travelled a day’s journey + he joined it. None knew what to do. He was not a leper, and he was armed.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him with me,” said David. + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra hesitated. “He is armed; he was thy foe—” + </p> + <p> + “I am armed also,” David answered enigmatically, and indicated by a + gesture that he wished to be left alone. Ebn Ezra drew away towards the + palm-tree, and stood at this distance watching anxiously, for he knew what + dark passions seize upon the Oriental—and Achmet had many things for + which to take vengeance. + </p> + <p> + David stood for a moment, pondering, his eyes upon the deserter. “God + greet thee as thou goest, and His goodness befriend thee,” he said evenly. + There was silence, and no movement. “Rise and speak,” he added sternly. + “Dost thou not hear? Rise, Achmet Pasha!” + </p> + <p> + Achmet Pasha! The head of the desolate wretch lifted, the eyes glared at + David for an instant, as though to see whether he was being mocked, and + then the spare figure stretched itself, and the outcast stood up. The old + lank straightness was gone, the shoulders were bent, the head was thrust + forward, as though the long habit of looking into dark places had bowed it + out of all manhood. + </p> + <p> + “May grass spring under thy footstep, Saadat,” he said, in a thick voice, + and salaamed awkwardly—he had been so long absent from life’s + formularies. + </p> + <p> + “What dost thou here, pasha?” asked David formally. “Thy sentence had no + limit.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not die there,” said the hollow voice, and the head sank farther + forward. “Year after year I lived there, but I could not die among them. I + was no leper; I am no leper. My penalty was my penalty, and I paid it to + the full, piastre by piastre of my body and my mind. It was not one death, + it was death every hour, every day I stayed. I had no mind. I could not + think. Mummy-cloths were round my brain; but the fire burned underneath + and would not die. There was the desert, but my limbs were like rushes. I + had no will, and I could not flee. I was chained to the evil place. If I + stayed it was death, if I went it was death.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art armed now,” said David suggestively. Achmet laid a hand fiercely + upon a dagger under his robe. “I hid it. I was afraid. I could not die—my + hand was like a withered leaf; it could not strike; my heart poured out + like water. Once I struck a leper, that he might strike and kill me; but + he lay upon the ground and wept, for all his anger, which had been great, + died in him at last. There was none other given to anger there. The leper + has neither anger, nor mirth, nor violence, nor peace. It is all the black + silent shame—and I was no leper.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didst thou come? What is there but death for thee here, or anywhere + thou goest! Kaid’s arm will find thee; a thousand hands wait to strike + thee.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not die there—Dost thou think that I repent?” he added with + sudden fierceness. “Is it that which would make me repent? Was I worse + than thousands of others? I have come out to die—to fight and die. + Aiwa, I have come to thee, whom I hated, because thou canst give me death + as I desire it. My mother was an Arab slave from Senaar, and she was got + by war, and all her people. War and fighting were their portion—as + they ate, as they drank and slept. In the black years behind me among the + Unclean, there was naught to fight—could one fight the dead, and the + agony of death, and the poison of the agony! Life, it is done for me—am + I not accursed? But to die fighting—ay, fighting for Egypt, since it + must be, and fighting for thee, since it must be; to strike, and strike, + and strike, and earn death! Must the dog, because he is a dog, die in the + slime? Shall he not be driven from the village to die in the clean sand? + Saadat, who will see in me Achmet Pasha, who did with Egypt what he + willed, and was swept away by the besom in thy hand? Is there in me aught + of that Achmet that any should know?” + </p> + <p> + “None would know thee for that Achmet,” answered David. + </p> + <p> + “I know, it matters not how—at last a letter found me, and the way + of escape—that thou goest again to the Soudan. There will be + fighting there—” + </p> + <p> + “Not by my will,” interrupted David. + </p> + <p> + “Then by the will of Sheitan the accursed; but there will be fighting—am + I not an Arab, do I not know? Thou hast not conquered yet. Bid me go where + thou wilt, do what thou wilt, so that I may be among the fighters, and in + the battle forget what I have seen. Since I am unclean, and am denied the + bosom of Allah, shall I not go as a warrior to Hell, where men will fear + me? Speak, Saadat, canst thou deny me this?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing of repentance, so far as he knew, moved the dark soul; but, like + some evil spirit, he would choose the way to his own doom, the place and + the manner of it: a sullen, cruel, evil being, unyielding in his evil, + unmoved by remorse—so far as he knew. Yet he would die fighting, and + for Egypt “and for thee, if it must be so. To strike, to strike, to + strike, and earn death!” What Achmet did not see, David saw, the glimmer + of light breaking through the cloud of shame and evil and doom. Yonder in + the Soudan more problems than one would be solved, more lives than one be + put to the extreme test. He did not answer Achmet’s question yet. “Zaida—?” + he said in a low voice. The pathos of her doom had been a dark memory. + </p> + <p> + Achmet’s voice dropped lower as he answered. “She lived till the day her + sister died. I never saw her face; but I was sent to bear each day to her + door the food she ate and a balass of water; and I did according to my + sentence. Yet I heard her voice. And once, at last, the day she died, she + spoke to me, and said from inside the hut: ‘Thy work is done, Achmet. Go + in peace.’ And that night she lay down on her sister’s grave, and in the + morning she was found dead upon it.” + </p> + <p> + David’s eyes were blinded with tears. “It was too long,” he said at last, + as though to himself. + </p> + <p> + “That day,” continued Achmet, “there fell ill with leprosy the Christian + priest from this place who had served in that black service so long; and + then a fire leapt up in me. Zaida was gone—I had brought food and a + balass of water to her door those many times; there was naught to do, + since she was gone—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly David took a step nearer to him and looked into the sullen and + drooping eyes. “Thou shalt go with me, Achmet. I will do this unlawful act + for thee. At daybreak I will give thee orders. Thou shalt join me far from + here—if I go to the Soudan,” he added, with a sudden remembrance of + his position; and he turned away slowly. + </p> + <p> + After a moment, with muttered words, Achmet sank down upon the stone + again, drew a cake of dourha from his inner robe, and began to eat. + </p> + <p> + The camel-boy had lighted a fire, and he sat beside it warming his hands + at the blaze and still singing to himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The bed of my love I will sprinkle with attar of roses, + The face of my love I will touch with the balm + With the balm of the tree from the farthermost wood, + From the wood without end, in the world without end. + My love holds the cup to my lips, and I drink of the cup, + And the attar of roses I sprinkle will soothe like the evening dew, + And the balm will be healing and sleep, and the cup I will drink, + I will drink of the cup my love holds to my lips—” + </pre> + <p> + David stood listening. What power was there in desert life that could make + this poor camel-driver, at the end of a long day of weariness and toil and + little food and drink, sing a song of content and cheerfulness? The little + needed, the little granted, and no thought beyond—save the vision of + one who waited in the hut by the onion-field. He gathered himself together + and tuned his mind to the scene through which he had just passed, and then + to the interview he would have with Kaid on the morrow. A few hours ago he + had seen no way out of it all—he had had no real hope that Kaid + would turn to him again; but the last two hours had changed all that. Hope + was alive in him. He had fought a desperate fight with himself, and he had + conquered. Then had come Achmet, unrepentant, degraded still, but with the + spirit of Something glowing—Achmet to die for a cause, driven by + that Something deep beneath the degradation and the crime. He had hope, + and, as the camel-driver’s voice died away, and he lay down with a + sheep-skin over him and went instantly to sleep, David drew to the fire + and sat down beside it. Presently Ebn Ezra came to urge him to go to bed, + but he would not. He had slept, he said; he had slept and rested, and the + night was good—he would wait. Then the other brought rugs and + blankets, and gave David some, and lay down beside the fire, and watched + and waited for he knew not what. Ever and ever his eyes were on David, and + far back under the acacia-tree Achmet slept as he had not slept since his + doom fell on him. + </p> + <p> + At last Ebn Ezra Bey also slept; but David was awake with the night and + the benevolent moon and the marching stars. The spirit of the desert was + on him, filling him with its voiceless music. From the infinite stretches + of sand to the south came the irresistible call of life, as soft as the + leaves in a garden of roses, as deep as the sea. This world was still, yet + there seemed a low, delicate humming, as of multitudinous looms at a + distance so great that the ear but faintly caught it—the sound of + the weavers of life and destiny and eternal love, the hands of the toilers + of all the ages spinning and spinning on; and he was part of it, not + abashed or dismayed because he was but one of the illimitable throng. + </p> + <p> + The hours wore on, but still he sat there, peace in all his heart, energy + tingling softly through every vein, the wings of hope fluttering at his + ear. + </p> + <p> + At length the morning came, and, from the west, with the rising sun, came + a traveller swiftly, making for where he was. The sleepers stirred around + him and waked and rose. The little camp became alive. As the traveller + neared the fresh-made fire, David saw that it was Lacey. He went eagerly + to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Thee has news,” he said. “I see it is so.” He held Lacey’s hand in his. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you are going on that expedition, Saadat. You wanted money. Will a + quarter of a million do?” David’s eyes caught fire. + </p> + <p> + From the monastery there came the voices of the monks: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with + gladness, and come before His presence with a song.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE DARK INDENTURE + </h2> + <p> + Nahoum had forgotten one very important thing: that what affected David as + a Christian in Egypt would tell equally against himself. If, in his + ill-health and dejection, Kaid drank deep of the cup of Mahomet, the red + eyes of fanaticism would be turned upon the Armenian, as upon the European + Christian. He had forgotten it for the moment, but when, coming into + Kaid’s Palace, a little knot of loiterers spat upon the ground and + snarled, “Infidel—Nazarene!” with contempt and hatred, the + significance of the position came home to him. He made his way to a far + quarter of the Palace, thoughtfully weighing the circumstances, and was + met by Mizraim. + </p> + <p> + Mizraim salaamed. “The height of thy renown be as the cedar of Lebanon, + Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “May thy feet tread the corn of everlasting fortune, son of Mahomet.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the room together. Nahoum looked at Mizraim curiously. He was + not satisfied with what he saw. Mizraim’s impassive face had little + expression, but the eyes were furtively eager and sinister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so it is, and if it is, what then?” asked Nahoum coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Ki di, so it is,” answered Mizraim, and a ghastly smile came to his lips. + This infidel pasha, Nahoum, had a mind that pierced to the meaning of + words ere they were spoken. Mizraim’s hand touched his forehead, his + breast, his lips, and, clasping and unclasping his long, snakelike + fingers, he began the story he had come to tell. + </p> + <p> + “The Inglesi, whom Allah confound, the Effendina hath blackened by a look, + his words have smitten him in the vital parts—” + </p> + <p> + “Mizraim, thou dove, speak to the purpose!” Mizraim showed a dark pleasure + at the interruption. Nahoum was impatient, anxious; that made the tale + better worth telling. + </p> + <p> + “Sharif and the discontented ones who dare not act, like the vultures, + they flee the living man, but swoop upon the corpse. The consuls of those + countries who love not England or Claridge Pasha, and the holy men, and + the Cadi, all scatter smouldering fires. There is a spirit in the Palace + and beyond which is blowing fast to a great flame.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, so it is, great one, and what bodes it?” + </p> + <p> + “It may kill the Inglesi; but it will also sweep thee from the fields of + life where thou dost flourish.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not against the foreigner, but against the Christian, Mizraim?” + </p> + <p> + “Thy tongue hath wisdom, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art a Muslim—” + </p> + <p> + “Why do I warn thee? For service done to me; and because there is none + other worth serving in Egypt. Behold, it is my destiny to rule others, to + serve thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Once more thy turban full of gold, Mizraim, if thou dost service now that + hath meaning and is not a belching of wind and words. Thou hast a thing to + say—say it, and see if Nahoum hath lost his wit, or hath a palsied + arm.” + </p> + <p> + “Then behold, pasha. Are not my spies in all the Palace? Is not my scourge + heavier than the whip of the horned horse? Ki di, so it is. This I have + found. Sharif hath, with others, made a plot which hath enough powder in + it to shake Egypt, and toss thee from thy high place into the depths. + There is a Christian—an Armenian, as it chances; but he was chosen + because he was a Christian, and for that only. His name is Rahib. He is a + tent-maker. He had three sons. They did kill an effendi who had cheated + them of their land. Two of them were hanged last week; the other, caught + but a few days since, is to hang within three days. To-day Kaid goes to + the Mosque of Mahmoud, as is the custom at this festival. The old man hath + been persuaded to attempt the life of Kaid, upon condition that his son—his + Benjamin—is set free. It will be but an attempt at Kaid’s life, no + more; but the cry will go forth that a Christian did the thing; and the + Muslim flame will leap high.” + </p> + <p> + “And the tent-maker?” asked Nahoum musingly, though he was turning over + the tale in his mind, seeing behind it and its far consequences. + </p> + <p> + “Malaish, what does it matter! But he is to escape, and they are to hang + another Christian in his stead for the attempt on Kaid. It hath no skill, + but it would suffice. With the dervishes gone malboos, and the faithful + drunk with piety—canst thou not see the issue, pasha? Blood will be + shed.” + </p> + <p> + “The Jews of Europe would be angry,” said Nahoum grimly but evenly. “The + loans have been many, and Kaid has given a lien by the new canal at Suez. + The Jews will be angry,” he repeated, “and for every drop of Christian + blood shed there would be a lanced vein here. But that would not bring + back Nahoum Pasha,” he continued cynically. “Well, this is thy story, + Mizraim; this is what they would do. Now what hast thou done to stop their + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not a Muslim? Shall I give Sharif to the Nile?” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum smiled darkly. “There is a simpler way. Thy mind ever runs on the + bowstring and the sword. These are great, but there is a greater. It is + the mocking finger. At midnight, when Kaid goes to the Mosque Mahmoud, a + finger will mock the plotters till they are buried in confusion. Thou + knowest the governor of the prisons—has he not need of something? + Hath he never sought favours of thee?” + </p> + <p> + “Bismillah, but a week ago!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, listen, thou shepherd of the sheep—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, as there came a tap at the door, and a slave entered hurriedly + and addressed Nahoum. “The effendi, Ebn Ezra Bey, whom thou didst set me + to watch, he hath entered the Palace, and asks for the Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + Nahoum started, and his face clouded, but his eyes flashed fire. He tossed + the slave a coin. “Thou hast done well. Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “He waits in the hall, where is the statue of Mehemet Ali and the lions.” + </p> + <p> + “In an hour, Mizraim, thou shalt hear what I intend. Peace be to thee!” + </p> + <p> + “And on thee, peace!” answered Mizraim, as Nahoum passed from the room, + and walked hastily towards the hall where he should find Ebn Ezra Bey. + Nearing the spot, he brought his step to a deliberate slowness, and + appeared not to notice the stately Arab till almost upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, effendi,” he said smoothly, yet with inquisition in his eye, with + malice in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art come on the business of thy master?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is my master, Excellency?” + </p> + <p> + “Till yesterday it was Claridge Pasha. Hast thou then forsaken him in his + trouble—the rat from the sinking ship?” + </p> + <p> + A flush passed over Ebn Ezra Bey’s face, and his mouth opened with a gasp + of anger. Oriental though he was, he was not as astute as this Armenian + Christian, who was purposely insulting him, that he might, in a moment of + heat, snatch from him the business he meant to lay before Kaid. Nahoum had + not miscalculated. + </p> + <p> + “I have but one master, Excellency,” Ebn Ezra answered quietly at last, + “and I have served him straightly. Hast thou done likewise?” + </p> + <p> + “What is straight to thee might well be crooked to me, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art crooked as the finger of a paralytic.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I have worked in peace with Claridge Pasha for these years past, even + until yesterday, when thou didst leave him to his fate.” + </p> + <p> + “His ship will sail when thine is crumbling on the sands, and all thou art + is like a forsaken cockatrice’s nest.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it this thou hast come to say to the Effendina?” + </p> + <p> + “What I have come to say to the Effendina is for the world to know after + it hath reached his ears. I know thee, Nahoum Pasha. Thou art a traitor. + Claridge Pasha would abolish slavery, and thou dost receive great sums of + gold from the slave-dealers to prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it this thou wilt tell Kaid?” Nahoum asked with a sneer. “And hast + thou proofs?” + </p> + <p> + “Even this day they have come to my hands from the south.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I think the proofs thou hast will not avail; and I think that thou + wilt not show them to Kaid. The gift of second thinking is a great gift. + Thou must find greater reason for seeking the Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + “That too shall be. Gold thou hadst to pay the wages of the soldiers of + the south. Thou didst keep the gold and order the slave-hunt; and the + soldiers of the Effendina have been paid in human flesh and blood—ten + thousand slaves since Claridge Pasha left the Soudan, and three thousand + dead upon the desert sands, abandoned by those who hunted them when water + grew scarce and food failed. To-day shall see thy fall.” + </p> + <p> + At his first words Nahoum had felt a shock, from which his spirit reeled; + but an inspiration came to him on the moment; and he listened with a + saturnine coolness to the passionate words of the indignant figure + towering above him. When Ebn Ezra had finished, he replied quietly: + </p> + <p> + “It is even as thou sayest, effendi. The soldiers were paid in slaves got + in the slave-hunt; and I have gold from the slave-dealers. I needed it, + for the hour is come when I must do more for Egypt than I have ever done.” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture of contempt Ebn Ezra made to leave, seeing an official of + the Palace in the distance. Nahoum stopped him. “But, one moment ere thou + dost thrust thy hand into the cockatrice’s den. Thou dost measure thyself + against Nahoum? In patience and with care have I trained myself for the + battle. The bulls of Bashan may roar, yet my feet are shod with safety. + Thou wouldst go to Kaid and tell him thy affrighted tale. I tell thee, + thou wilt not go. Thou hast reason yet, though thy blood is hot. Thou art + to Claridge Pasha like a brother—as to his uncle before him, who + furnished my father’s palace with carpets. The carpets still soften the + fall of my feet in my father’s palace, as they did soften the fall of my + brother’s feet, the feet of Foorgat Bey.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looking at Ebn Ezra with quiet triumph, though his eyes had + ever that smiling innocence which had won David in days gone by. He was + turning his words over on the tongue with a relish born of long waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said presently—“come, and I will give thee reason why + thou wilt not speak with Kaid to-day. This way, effendi.” + </p> + <p> + He led the other into a little room hung about with rugs and tapestry, + and, going to the wall, he touched a spring. “One moment here, effendi,” + he added quietly. The room was as it had been since David last stood + within it. + </p> + <p> + “In this room, effendi,” Nahoum said with cold deliberation, “Claridge + Pasha killed my brother, Foorgat Bey.” + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra fell back as though he had been struck. Swiftly Nahoum told him + the whole truth—even to the picture of the brougham, and the rigid, + upright figure passing through the night to Foorgat’s palace, the gaunt + Mizraim piloting the equipage of death. + </p> + <p> + “I have held my peace for my own reasons, effendi. Wilt thou then force me + to speak? If thou dost still cherish Claridge Pasha, wilt thou see him + ruined? Naught but ruin could follow the telling of the tale at this + moment—his work, his life, all done. The scandal, the law, + vengeance! But as it is now, Kaid may turn to him again; his work may yet + go on—he has had the luck of angels, and Kaid is fickle. Who can + tell?” + </p> + <p> + Abashed and overwhelmed, Ebn Ezra Bey looked at him keenly. “To tell of + Foorgat Bey would ruin thee also,” he said. “That thou knowest. The trick—would + Kaid forgive it? Claridge Pasha would not be ruined alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so. If thou goest to Kaid with thy story, I go to Egypt with mine. + Choose.” + </p> + <p> + Ebn Ezra turned to go. “The high God judge between him and thee,” he said, + and, with bowed head, left the Palace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. NAHOUM DROPS THE MASK “CLARIDGE PASHA!” + </h2> + <p> + At the sound of the words, announced in a loud voice, hundreds of heads + were turned towards the entrance of the vast salon, resplendent with + gilded mirrors, great candelabra and chandeliers, golden hangings, and + divans glowing with robes of yellow silk. + </p> + <p> + It was the anniversary of Kaid’s succession, and all entitled to come + poured into the splendid chamber. The showy livery of the officials, the + loose, spacious, gorgeous uniforms of the officers, with the curved + jewelled scimitars and white turbans, the rich silk robes of the Ulema, + robe over robe of coloured silk with flowing sleeves and sumptuous silken + vests, the ample dignity of noble-looking Arabs in immense white turbans, + the dark straight Stambouli coat of the officials, made a picture of + striking variety and colour and interest. + </p> + <p> + About the centre of the room, laying palm to palm again and yet again, + touching lips and forehead and breast, speaking with slow, leisurely, + voices, were two Arab sheikhs from the far Soudan. One of these showed a + singular interest in the movements of Nahoum Pasha as he entered the + chamber, and an even greater interest in David when he was announced; but + as David, in his journey up the chamber, must pass near him, he drew + behind a little group of officials, who whispered to each other excitedly + as David came on. More than once before this same Sheikh Abdullah had seen + David, and once they had met, and had made a treaty of amity, and Abdullah + had agreed to deal in slaves no more; and yet within three months had sent + to Cairo two hundred of the best that could be found between Khartoum and + Senaar. His business, of which Ebn Ezra Bey had due knowledge, had now + been with Nahoum. The business of the other Arab, a noble-looking and wiry + Bedouin from the South, had been with Ebn Ezra Bey, and each hid his + business from his friend. Abdullah murmured to himself as David passed—a + murmur of admiration and astonishment. He had heard of the disfavour in + which the Inglesi was; but, as he looked at David’s face with its quiet + smile, the influence which he felt in the desert long ago came over him + again. + </p> + <p> + “By Allah,” he said aloud abstractedly, “it is a face that will not hide + when the khamsin blows! Who shall gainsay it? If he were not an infidel he + would be a Mahdi.” + </p> + <p> + To this his Bedouin friend replied: “As the depths of the pool at Ghebel + Farik, so are his eyes. You shall dip deep and you shall not find the + bottom. Bismillah, I would fight Kaid’s Nubians, but not this infidel + pasha!” + </p> + <p> + Never had David appeared to such advantage. The victory over himself the + night before, the message of hope that had reached him at the monastery in + the desert, the coming of Lacey, had given him a certain quiet + masterfulness not reassuring to his foes. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the chamber but now, there flashed into his mind the scene + six years ago when, an absolute stranger, he had stepped into this Eastern + salon, and had heard his name called out to the great throng: “Claridge + efendi!” + </p> + <p> + He addressed no one, but he bowed to the group of foreign consuls-general, + looking them steadily in the eyes. He knew their devices and what had been + going on of late, he was aware that his fall would mean a blow to British + prestige, and the calmness of his gaze expressed a fortitude which had a + disconcerting effect upon the group. The British Consul-General stood near + by. David advanced to him, and, as he did so, the few who surrounded the + Consul-General fell back. David held out his hand. Somewhat abashed and + ill at ease, the Consul-General took it. + </p> + <p> + “Have you good news from Downing Street?” asked David quietly. + </p> + <p> + The Consul-General hesitated for an instant, and then said: “There is no + help to be had for you or for what you are doing in that quarter.” He + lowered his voice. “I fear Lord Eglington does not favour you; and he + controls the Foreign Minister. I am very sorry. I have done my best, but + my colleagues, the other consuls, are busy—with Lord Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + David turned his head away for an instant. Strange how that name sent a + thrill through him, stirred his blood! He did not answer the + Consul-General, and the latter continued: + </p> + <p> + “Is there any hope? Is the breach with Kaid complete?” + </p> + <p> + David smiled gravely. “We shall see presently. I have made no change in my + plans on the basis of a breach.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment he caught sight of Nahoum some distance away and moved + towards him. Out of the corner of his eye Nahoum saw David coming, and + edged away towards that point where Kaid would enter, and where the crowd + was greater. As he did so Kaid appeared. A thrill went through the + chamber. Contrary to his custom, he was dressed in the old native military + dress of Mehemet Ali. At his side was a jewelled scimitar, and in his + turban flashed a great diamond. In his hand he carried a snuff-box, + covered with brilliants, and on his breast were glittering orders. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the reactionaries flashed with sinister pleasure when they saw + Kaid. This outward display of Orientalism could only be a reflex of the + mind. It was the outer symbol of Kaid’s return to the spirit of the old + days, before the influence of the Inglesi came upon him. Every corrupt and + intriguing mind had a palpitation of excitement. + </p> + <p> + In Nahoum the sight of Kaid produced mixed feelings. If, indeed, this + display meant reaction towards an entourage purely Arab, Egyptian, and + Muslim, then it was no good omen for his Christian self. He drew near, and + placed himself where Kaid could see him. Kaid’s manner was cheerful, but + his face showed the effect of suffering, physical and mental. Presently + there entered behind him Sharif Bey, whose appearance was the signal for a + fresh demonstration. Now, indeed, there could be no doubt as to Kaid’s + reaction. Yet if Sharif had seen Mizraim’s face evilly gloating near by he + would have been less confident. + </p> + <p> + David was standing where Kaid must see him, but the Effendina gave no sign + of recognition. This was so significant that the enemies of David rejoiced + anew. The day of the Inglesi was over. Again and again did Kaid’s eye + wander over David’s head. + </p> + <p> + David remained calm and watchful, neither avoiding nor yet seeking the + circle in which Kaid moved. The spirit with which he had entered the room, + however, remained with him, even when he saw Kaid summon to him some of + the most fanatical members of the court circle, and engage them in talk + for a moment. But as this attention grew more marked, a cloud slowly + gathered in the far skies of his mind. + </p> + <p> + There was one person in the great assembly, however, who seemed to be + unduly confident. It was an ample, perspiring person in evening dress, who + now and again mopped a prematurely bald head, and who said to himself, as + Kaid talked to the reactionaries: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Kald’s overdoing it. He’s putting potted chicken on the butter. But + it’s working all right-r-i-g-h-t. It’s worth the backsheesh!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Kaid fastened David with his look, and spoke in a tone so + loud that people standing at some distance were startled. + </p> + <p> + “Claridge Pasha!” + </p> + <p> + In the hush that followed David stepped forward. “May the bounty of the + years be thine, Saadat,” Kaid said in a tone none could misunderstand. + </p> + <p> + “May no tree in thy orchard wither, Effendina,” answered David in a firm + voice. + </p> + <p> + Kaid beckoned him near, and again he spoke loudly: “I have proved thee, + and found thee as gold tried seven times by the fire, Saadat. In the + treasury of my heart shall I store thee up. Thou art going to the Soudan + to finish the work Mehemet Ali began. I commend thee to Allah, and will + bid thee farewell at sunrise—I and all who love Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sinister smile on his lips, as his eyes wandered over the + faces of the foreign consuls-general. The look he turned on the intriguers + of the Palace was repellent; he reserved for Sharif a moody, threatening + glance, and the desperate hakim shrank back confounded from it. His first + impulse was to flee from the Palace and from Cairo; but he bethought + himself of the assault to be made on Kaid by the tent-maker, as he passed + to the mosque a few hours later, and he determined to await the issue of + that event. Exchanging glances with confederates, he disappeared, as Kaid + laid a hand on David’s arm and drew him aside. + </p> + <p> + After viewing the great throng cynically for a moment Kaid said: + “To-morrow thou goest. A month hence the hakim’s knife will find the thing + that eats away my life. It may be they will destroy it and save me; if + not, we shall meet no more.” + </p> + <p> + David looked into his eyes. “Not in a month shall thy work be completed, + Effendina. Thou shalt live. God and thy strong will shall make it so.” + </p> + <p> + A light stole over the superstitious face. “No device or hatred, or plot, + has prevailed against thee,” Kaid said eagerly. “Thou hast defeated all—even + when I turned against thee in the black blood of despair. Thou hast + conquered me even as thou didst Harrik.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou dost live,” returned David drily. “Thou dost live for Egypt’s sake, + even as Harrik died for Egypt’s sake, and as others shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “Death hath tracked thee down how often! Yet with a wave of the hand thou + hast blinded him, and his blow falls on the air. Thou art beset by a + thousand dangers, yet thou comest safe through all. Thou art an honest + man. For that I besought thee to stay with me. Never didst thou lie to me. + Good luck hath followed thee. Kismet! Stay with me, and it may be I shall + be safe also. This thought came to me in the night, and in the morning was + my reward, for Lacey effendi came to me and said, even as I say now, that + thou wilt bring me good luck; and even in that hour, by the mercy of God, + a loan much needed was negotiated. Allah be praised!” + </p> + <p> + A glint of humour shot into David’s eyes. Lacey—a loan—he read + it all! Lacey had eased the Prince Pasha’s immediate and pressing + financial needs—and, “Allah be praised!” Poor human nature—backsheesh + to a Prince regnant! + </p> + <p> + “Effendina,” he said presently, “thou didst speak of Harrik. One there was + who saved thee then—” + </p> + <p> + “Zaida!” A change passed over Kaid’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Speak! Thou hast news of her? She is gone?” Briefly David told him how + Zaida was found upon her sister’s grave. Kaid’s face was turned away as he + listened. + </p> + <p> + “She spoke no word of me?” Kaid said at last. “To whom should she speak?” + David asked gently. “But the amulet thou gavest her, set with one red + jewel, it was clasped in her hand in death.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Kaid’s anger blazed. “Now shall Achmet die,” he burst out. “His + hands and feet shall be burnt off, and he shall be thrown to the + vultures.” + </p> + <p> + “The Place of the Lepers is sacred even from thee, Effendina,” answered + David gravely. “Yet Achmet shall die even as Harrik died. He shall die for + Egypt and for thee, Effendina.” + </p> + <p> + Swiftly he drew the picture of Achmet at the monastery in the desert. “I + have done the unlawful thing, Effendina,” he said at last, “but thou wilt + make it lawful. He hath died a thousand deaths—all save one.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” answered Kaid gloomily, after a moment; then his face lighted + with cynical pleasure as he scanned once more the faces of the crowd + before him. At last his eyes fastened on Nahoum. He turned to David. + </p> + <p> + “Thou dost still desire Nahoum in his office?” he asked keenly. + </p> + <p> + A troubled look came into David’s eyes, then it cleared away, and he said + firmly: “For six years we have worked together, Effendina. I am surety for + his loyalty to thee.” + </p> + <p> + “And his loyalty to thee?” + </p> + <p> + A pained look crossed over David’s face again, but he said with a will + that fought all suspicion down: “The years bear witness.” + </p> + <p> + Kaid shrugged his shoulders slightly. “The years have perjured themselves + ere this. Yet, as thou sayest, Nahoum is a Christian,” he added, with + irony scarcely veiled. + </p> + <p> + Now he moved forward with David towards the waiting court. David searched + the groups of faces for Nahoum in vain. There were things to be said to + Nahoum before he left on the morrow, last suggestions to be given. Nahoum + could not be seen. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum was gone, as were also Sharif and his confederates, and in the + lofty Mosque of Mahmoud soft lights were hovering, while the + Sheikh-el-Islam waited with Koran and scimitar for the ruler of Egypt to + pray to God and salute the Lord Mahomet. + </p> + <p> + At the great gateway in the Street of the Tent Makers Kaid paused on his + way to the Mosque Mahmoud. The Gate was studded with thousands of nails, + which fastened to its massive timbers relics of the faithful, bits of silk + and cloth, and hair and leather; and here from time immemorial a holy man + had sat and prayed. At the gateway Kaid salaamed humbly, and spoke to the + holy man, who, as he passed, raised his voice shrilly in an appeal to + Allah, commending Kaid to mercy and everlasting favour. On every side eyes + burned with religious zeal, and excited faces were turned towards the + Effendina. At a certain point there were little groups of men with faces + more set than excited. They had a look of suppressed expectancy. Kald + neared them, passed them, and, as he did so, they looked at each other in + consternation. They were Sharif’s confederates, fanatics carefully chosen. + The attempt on Kaid’s life should have been made opposite the spot where + they stood. They craned their necks in effort to find the Christian + tent-maker, but in vain. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly they heard a cry, a loud voice calling. It was Rahib the + tent-maker. He was beside Kaid’s stirrups, but no weapon was in his hand; + and his voice was calling blessings down on the Effendina’s head for + having pardoned and saved from death his one remaining son, the joy of his + old age. In all the world there was no prince like Kaid, said the + tent-maker; none so bountiful and merciful and beautiful in the eyes of + men. God grant him everlasting days, the beloved friend of his people, + just to all and greatly to be praised. + </p> + <p> + As the soldiers drove the old man away with kindly insistence—for + Kaid had thrown him a handful of gold—Mizraim, the Chief Eunuch, + laughed wickedly. As Nahoum had said, the greatest of all weapons was the + mocking finger. He and Mizraim had had their way with the governor of the + prisons, and the murderer had gone in safety, while the father stayed to + bless Kaid. Rahib the tent-maker had fooled the plotters. They were mad in + derision. They did not know that Kaid was as innocent as themselves of + having pardoned the tent-maker’s son. Their moment had passed; they could + not overtake it; the match had spluttered and gone out at the fuel laid + for the fire of fanaticism. + </p> + <p> + The morning of David’s departure came. While yet it was dark he had risen, + and had made his last preparations. When he came into the open air and + mounted, it was not yet sunrise, and in that spectral early light, which + is all Egypt’s own, Cairo looked like some dream-city in a forgotten + world. The Mokattam Hills were like vast dun barriers guarding and + shutting in the ghostly place, and, high above all, the minarets of the + huge mosque upon the lofty rocks were impalpable fingers pointing an + endless flight. The very trees seemed so little real and substantial that + they gave the eye the impression that they might rise and float away. The + Nile was hung with mist, a trailing cloud unwound from the breast of the + Nile-mother. At last the sun touched the minarets of the splendid mosque + with shafts of light, and over at Ghizeh and Sakkarah the great pyramids, + lifting their heads from the wall of rolling blue mist below, took the + morning’s crimson radiance with the dignity of four thousand years. + </p> + <p> + On the decks of the little steamer which was to carry them south David, + Ebn Ezra, Lacey, and Mahommed waited. Presently Kaid came, accompanied by + his faithful Nubians, their armour glowing in the first warm light of the + rising sun, and crowds of people, who had suddenly emerged, ran shrilling + to the waterside behind him. + </p> + <p> + Kaid’s pale face had all last night’s friendliness, as he bade David + farewell with great honour, and commended him to the care of Allah; and + the swords of the Nubians clashed against their breasts and on their + shields in salaam. + </p> + <p> + But there was another farewell to make; and it was made as David’s foot + touched the deck of the steamer. Once again David looked at Nahoum as he + had done six years ago, in the little room where they had made their bond + together. There was the same straight look in Nahoum’s eyes. Was he not to + be trusted? Was it not his own duty to trust? He clasped Nahoum’s hand in + farewell, and turned away. But as he gave the signal to start, and the + vessel began to move, Nahoum came back. He leaned over the widening space + and said in a low tone, as David again drew near: + </p> + <p> + “There is still an account which should be settled, Saadat. It has waited + long; but God is with the patient. There is the account of Foorgat Bey.” + </p> + <p> + The light fled from David’s eyes and his heart stopped beating for a + moment. When his eyes saw the shore again Nahoum was gone with Kaid. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. THE FLIGHT OF THE WOUNDED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And Mario can soothe with a tenor note + The souls in purgatory.” + </pre> + <p> + “Non ti scordar di mi!” The voice rang out with passionate stealthy + sweetness, finding its way into far recesses of human feeling. Women of + perfect poise and with the confident look of luxury and social fame + dropped their eyes abstractedly on the opera-glasses lying in their laps, + or the programmes they mechanically fingered, and recalled, they knew not + why—for what had it to do with this musical narration of a tragic + Italian tale!—the days when, in the first flush of their wedded + life, they had set a seal of devotion and loyalty and love upon their + arms, which, long ago, had gone to the limbo of lost jewels, with the + chaste, fresh desires of worshipping hearts. Young egotists, supremely + happy and defiant in the pride of the fact that they loved each other, and + that it mattered little what the rest of the world enjoyed, suffered, and + endured—these were suddenly arrested in their buoyant and solitary + flight, and stirred restlessly in their seats. Old men whose days of work + were over; who no longer marshalled their legions, or moved at a nod great + ships upon the waters in masterful manoeuvres; whose voices were heard no + more in chambers of legislation, lashing partisan feeling to a height of + cruelty or lulling a storm among rebellious followers; whose intellects no + longer devised vast schemes of finance, or applied secrets of science to + transform industry—these heard the enthralling cry of a soul with + the darkness of eternal loss gathering upon it, and drew back within + themselves; for they too had cried like this one time or another in their + lives. Stricken, they had cried out, and ambition had fled away, leaving + behind only the habit of living, and of work and duty. + </p> + <p> + As Hylda, in the Duchess of Snowdon’s box, listened with a face which + showed nothing of what she felt, and looking straight at the stage before + her, the words of a poem she had learned but yesterday came to her mind, + and wove themselves into the music thrilling from the voice in the stage + prison: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And what is our failure here but a triumph’s evidence + For the fulness of the days? Have we withered or agonised? + Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue + thence? + Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized?” + </pre> + <p> + “And what is our failure here but a triumph’s evidence?” Was it then so? + The long weeks which had passed since that night at Hamley, when she had + told Eglington the truth about so many things, had brought no peace, no + understanding, no good news from anywhere. The morning after she had + spoken with heart laid bare. Eglington had essayed to have a + reconciliation; but he had come as the martyr, as one injured. His egotism + at such a time, joined to his attempt to make light of things, of treating + what had happened as a mere “moment of exasperation,” as “one of those + episodes inseparable from the lives of the high-spirited,” only made her + heart sink and grow cold, almost as insensible as the flesh under a spray + of ether. He had been neither wise nor patient. She had not slept after + that bitter, terrible scene, and the morning had found her like one + battered by winter seas, every nerve desperately alert to pain, yet tears + swimming at her heart and ready to spring to her eyes at a touch of the + real thing, the true note—and she knew so well what the true thing + was! Their great moment had passed, had left her withdrawn into herself, + firmly, yet without heart, performing the daily duties of life, gay before + the world, the delightful hostess, the necessary and graceful figure at so + many functions. + </p> + <p> + Even as Soolsby had done, who went no further than to tell Eglington his + dark tale, and told no one else, withholding it from “Our Man”; as Sybil + Lady Eglington had shrunk when she had been faced by her obvious duty, so + Hylda hesitated, but from better reason than either. To do right in the + matter was to strike her husband—it must be a blow now, since her + voice had failed. To do right was to put in the ancient home and house of + Eglington one whom he—with anger and without any apparent desire to + have her altogether for himself, all the riches of her life and love—had + dared to say commanded her sympathy and interest, not because he was a man + dispossessed of his rights, but because he was a man possessed of that to + which he had no right. The insult had stung her, had driven her back into + a reserve, out of which she seemed unable to emerge. How could she compel + Eglington to do right in this thing—do right by his own father’s + son? + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, that father’s son was once more imperilling his life, once more + putting England’s prestige in the balance in the Soudan, from which he had + already been delivered twice as though by miracles. Since he had gone, + months before, there had been little news; but there had been much public + anxiety; and she knew only too well that there had been ‘pourparlers’ with + foreign ministers, from which no action came safe-guarding David. + </p> + <p> + Many a human being has realised the apathy, the partial paralysis of the + will, succeeding a great struggle, which has exhausted the vital forces. + Many a general who has fought a desperate and victorious fight after a + long campaign, and amid all the anxieties and miseries of war, has failed + to follow up his advantage, from a sudden lesion of the power for action + in him. He has stepped from the iron routine of daily effort into a sudden + freedom, and his faculties have failed him, the iron of his will has + vanished. So it was with Hylda. She waited for she knew not what. Was it + some dim hope that Eglington might see the right as she saw it? That he + might realise how unreal was this life they were living, outwardly + peaceful and understanding, deluding the world, but inwardly a place of + tears. How she dreaded the night and its recurrent tears, and the hours + when she could not sleep, and waited for the joyless morning, as one lost + on the moor, blanched with cold, waits for the sun-rise! Night after night + at a certain hour—the hour when she went to bed at last after that + poignant revelation to Eglington—she wept, as she had wept then, + heart-broken tears of disappointment, disillusion, loneliness; tears for + the bitter pity of it all; for the wasting and wasted opportunities; for + the common aim never understood or planned together; for the precious + hours lived in an air of artificial happiness and social excitement; for a + perfect understanding missed; for the touch which no longer thrilled. + </p> + <p> + But the end of it all must come. She was looking frail and delicate, and + her beauty, newly refined, and with a fresh charm, as of mystery or pain, + was touched by feverishness. An old impatience once hers was vanished, and + Kate Heaver would have given a month’s wages for one of those flashes of + petulance of other days ever followed by a smile. Now the smile was all + too often there, the patient smile which comes to those who have suffered. + Hardness she felt at times, where Eglington was concerned, for he seemed + to need her now not at all, to be self-contained, self-dependent—almost + arrogantly so; but she did not show it, and she was outwardly patient. + </p> + <p> + In his heart of hearts Eglington believed that she loved him, that her + interest in David was only part of her idealistic temperament—the + admiration of a woman for a man of altruistic aims; but his hatred of + David, of what David was, and of his irrefutable claims, reacted on her. + Perverseness and his unhealthy belief that he would master her in the end, + that she would one day break down and come to him, willing to take his + view in all things, and to be his slave—all this drove him farther + and farther on a fatal, ever-broadening path. + </p> + <p> + Success had spoiled him. He applied his gifts in politics, daringly + unscrupulous, superficially persuasive, intellectually insinuating, to his + wife; and she, who had been captured once by all these things, was not to + be captured again. She knew what alone could capture her; and, as she sat + and watched the singers on the stage now, the divine notes of that + searching melody still lingering in her heart, there came a sudden wonder + whether Eglington’s heart could not be wakened. She knew that it never had + been, that he had never known love, the transfiguring and reclaiming + passion. No, no, surely it could not be too late—her marriage with + him had only come too soon! He had ridden over her without mercy; he had + robbed her of her rightful share of the beautiful and the good; he had + never loved her; but if love came to him, if he could but once realise how + much there was of what he had missed! If he did not save himself—and + her—what would be the end? She felt the cords drawing her elsewhere; + the lure of a voice she had heard in an Egyptian garden was in her ears. + One night at Hamley, in an abandonment of grief-life hurt her so—she + had remembered the prophecy she had once made that she would speak to + David, and that he would hear; and she had risen from her seat, impelled + by a strange new feeling, and had cried: “Speak! speak to me!” As plainly + as she had ever heard anything in her life, she had heard his voice speak + to her a message that sank into the innermost recesses of her being, and + she had been more patient afterwards. She had no doubt whatever; she had + spoken to him, and he had answered; but the answer was one which all the + world might have heard. + </p> + <p> + Down deep in her nature was an inalienable loyalty, was a simple, + old-fashioned feeling that “they two,” she and Eglington, should cleave + unto each other till death should part. He had done much to shatter that + feeling; but now, as she listened to Mario’s voice, centuries of + predisposition worked in her, and a great pity awoke in her heart. Could + she not save him, win him, wake him, cure him of the disease of Self? + </p> + <p> + The thought brought a light to her eyes which had not been there for many + a day. Out of the deeps of her soul this mist of a pure selflessness rose, + the spirit of that idealism which was the real chord of sympathy between + her and Egypt. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she would, this once again, try to win the heart of this man; and so + reach what was deeper than heart, and so also give him that without which + his life must be a failure in the end, as Sybil Eglington had said. How + often had those bitter anguished words of his mother rung in her ears—“So + brilliant and unscrupulous, like yourself; but, oh, so sure of winning a + great place in the world... so calculating and determined and ambitious!” + They came to her now, flashed between the eager solicitous eyes of her + mind and the scene of a perfect and everlasting reconciliation which it + conjured up—flashed and were gone; for her will rose up and blurred + them into mist; and other words of that true palimpsest of Sybil + Eglington’s broken life came instead: “And though he loves me little, as + he loves you little too, yet he is my son, and for what he is we are both + responsible one way or another.” As the mother, so the wife. She said to + herself now in sad paraphrase, “And though he loves me little, yet he is + my husband, and for what he is it may be that I am in some sense + responsible.” Yet he is my husband! All that it was came to her; the + closed door, the drawn blinds; the intimacy which shut them away from all + the world; the things said which can only be said without desecration + between two honest souls who love each other; and that sweet isolation + which makes marriage a separate world, with its own sacred revelation. + This she had known; this had been; and though the image of the sacred + thing had been defaced, yet the shrine was not destroyed. + </p> + <p> + For she believed that each had kept the letter of the law; that, whatever + his faults, he had turned his face to no other woman. If she had not made + his heart captive and drawn him by an ever-shortening cord of attraction, + yet she was sure that none other had any influence over him, that, as he + had looked at her in those short-lived days of his first devotion, he + looked at no other. The way was clear yet. There was nothing + irretrievable, nothing irrevocable, which would for ever stain the memory + and tarnish the gold of life when the perfect love should be minted. + Whatever faults of mind or disposition or character were his—or hers—there + were no sins against the pledges they had made, nor the bond into which + they had entered. Life would need no sponge. Memory might still live on + without a wound or a cowl of shame. + </p> + <p> + It was all part of the music to which she listened, and she was almost + oblivious of the brilliant throng, the crowded boxes, or of the Duchess of + Snowdon sitting near her strangely still, now and again scanning the + beautiful face beside her with a reflective look. The Duchess loved the + girl—she was but a girl, after all—as she had never loved any + of her sex; it had come to be the last real interest of her life. To her + eyes, dimmed with much seeing, blurred by a garish kaleidoscope of + fashionable life, there had come a look which was like the ghost of a look + she had, how many decades ago. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as she saw Hylda’s eyes withdraw from the stage, and look at + her with a strange, soft moisture and a new light in them, she laid her + fan confidently on her friend’s knee, and said in her abrupt whimsical + voice: “You like it, my darling; your eyes are as big as saucers. You look + as if you’d been seeing things, not things on that silly stage, but what + Verdi felt when he wrote the piece, or something of more account than + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve been seeing things,” Hylda answered with a smile which came + from a new-born purpose, the dream of an idealist. “I’ve been seeing + things that Verdi did not see, and of more account, too.... Do you suppose + the House is up yet?” + </p> + <p> + A strange look flashed into the Duchess’s eyes, which had been watching + her with as much pity as interest. Hylda had not been near the House of + Commons this session, though she had read the reports with her usual care. + She had shunned the place. + </p> + <p> + “Why, did you expect Eglington?” the Duchess asked idly, yet she was + watchful too, alert for every movement in this life where the footsteps of + happiness were falling by the edge of a precipice, over which she would + not allow herself to look. She knew that Hylda did not expect Eglington, + for the decision to come to the opera was taken at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not—he doesn’t know we are here. But if it wasn’t too + late, I thought I’d go down and drive him home.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess veiled her look. Here was some new development in the history + which had been torturing her old eyes, which had given her and Lord + Windlehurst as many anxious moments as they had known in many a day, and + had formed them into a vigilance committee of two, who waited for the + critical hour when they should be needed. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll go at once if you like,” she replied. “The opera will be over soon. + We sent word to Windlehurst to join us, you remember, but he won’t come + now; it’s too late. So, we’ll go, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + She half rose, but the door of the box opened, and Lord Windlehurst looked + in quizzically. There was a smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + “I’m late, I know; but you’ll forgive me—you’ll forgive me, dear + lady,” he added to Hylda, “for I’ve been listening to your husband making + a smashing speech for a bad cause.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda smiled. “Then I must go and congratulate him,” she answered, and + withdrew her hand from that of Lord Windlehurst, who seemed to hold it + longer than usual, and pressed it in a fatherly way. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid the House is up,” he rejoined, as Hylda turned for her + opera-cloak; “and I saw Eglington leave Palace Yard as I came away.” He + gave a swift, ominous glance towards the Duchess, which Hylda caught, and + she looked at each keenly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s seldom I sit in the Peers’ Gallery,” continued Windlehurst; “I don’t + like going back to the old place much. It seems empty and hollow. But I + wouldn’t have missed Eglington’s fighting speech for a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it about?” asked Hylda as they left the box. She had a sudden + throb of the heart. Was it the one great question, that which had been + like a gulf of fire between them? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Turkey—the unpardonable Turk,” answered Windlehurst. “As good a + defence of a bad case as I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Eglington would do that well,” said the Duchess enigmatically, + drawing her cloak around her and adjusting her hair. Hylda looked at her + sharply, and Lord Windlehurst slyly, but the Duchess seemed oblivious of + having said anything out of the way, and added: “It’s a gift seeing all + that can be said for a bad cause, and saying it, and so making the other + side make their case so strong that the verdict has to be just.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Duchess, it doesn’t always work out that way,” rejoined Windlehurst + with a dry laugh. “Sometimes the devil’s advocate wins.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not very complimentary to my husband,” retorted Hylda, looking + him in the eyes, for she was not always sure when he was trying to baffle + her. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not so sure of that. He hasn’t won his case yet. He has only staved + off the great attack. It’s coming—soon.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the great attack? What has the Government, or the Foreign Office, + done or left undone?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear—” Suddenly Lord Windlehurst remembered himself, + stopped, put up his eyeglass, and with great interest seemed to watch a + gay group of people opposite; for the subject of attack was Egypt and the + Government’s conduct in not helping David, in view not alone of his + present danger, but of the position of England in the country, on which + depended the security of her highway to the East. Windlehurst was a good + actor, and he had broken off his words as though the group he was now + watching had suddenly claimed his attention. “Well, well, Duchess,” he + said reflectively, “I see a new nine days’ wonder yonder.” Then, in + response to a reminder from Hylda, he continued: “Ah, yes, the attack! Oh, + Persia—Persia, and our feeble diplomacy, my dear lady, though you + mustn’t take that as my opinion, opponent as I am. That’s the charge, + Persia—and her cats.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess breathed a sigh of relief; for she knew what Windlehurst had + been going to say, and she shrank from seeing what she felt she would see, + if Egypt and Claridge Pasha’s name were mentioned. That night at Harnley + had burnt a thought into her mind which she did not like. Not that she had + any pity for Eglington; her thought was all for this girl she loved. No + happiness lay in the land of Egypt for her, whatever her unhappiness here; + and she knew that Hylda must be more unhappy still before she was ever + happy again, if that might be. There was that concerning Eglington which + Hylda did not know, yet which she must know one day—and then! But + why were Hylda’s eyes so much brighter and softer and deeper to-night? + There was something expectant, hopeful, brooding in them. They belonged + not to the life moving round her, but were shining in a land of their own, + a land of promise. By an instinct in each of them they stood listening for + a moment to the last strains of the opera. The light leaped higher in + Hylda’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful—oh, so beautiful!” she said, her hand touching the + Duchess’s arm. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess gave the slim warm fingers a spasmodic little squeeze. “Yes, + darling, beautiful,” she rejoined; and then the crowd began to pour out + behind them. + </p> + <p> + Their carriages were at the door. Lord Windlehurst put Hylda in. “The + House is up,” he said. “You are going on somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “No—home,” she said, and smiled into his old, kind, questioning + eyes. “Home!” + </p> + <p> + “Home!” he murmured significantly as he turned towards the Duchess and her + carriage. “Home!” he repeated, and shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I drive you to your house?” the Duchess asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I’ll go with you to your door, and walk back to my cell. Home!” he + growled to the footman, with a sardonic note in the voice. + </p> + <p> + As they drove away, the Duchess turned to him abruptly. “What did you mean + by your look when you said you had seen Eglington drive away from the + House?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Betty, she—the fly-away—drives him home now. It + has come to that.” + </p> + <p> + “To her house—Windlehurst, oh, Windlehurst!” + </p> + <p> + She sank back in the cushions, and gave what was as near a sob as she had + given in many a day. Windlehurst took her hand. “No, not so bad as that + yet. She drove him to his club. Don’t fret, my dear Betty.” + </p> + <p> + Home! Hylda watched the shops, the houses, the squares, as she passed + westward, her mind dwelling almost happily on the new determination to + which she had come. It was not love that was moving her, not love for him, + but a deeper thing. He had brutally killed love—the full life of it—those + months ago; but there was a deep thing working in her which was as near + nobility as the human mind can feel. Not in a long time had she neared her + home with such expectation and longing. Often on the doorstep she had shut + her eyes to the light and warmth and elegance of it, because of that which + she did not see. Now, with a thrill of pleasure, she saw its doors open. + It was possible Eglington might have come home already. Lord Windlehurst + had said that he had left the House. She did not ask if he was in—it + had not been her custom for a long time—and servants were curious + people; but she looked at the hall-table. Yes, there was a hat which had + evidently just been placed there, and gloves, and a stick. He was at home, + then. + </p> + <p> + She hurried to her room, dropped her opera-cloak on a chair, looked at + herself in the glass, a little fluttered and critical, and then crossed + the hallway to Eglington’s bedroom. She listened for a moment. There was + no sound. She turned the handle of the door softly, and opened it. A light + was burning low, but the room was empty. It was as she thought, he was in + his study, where he spent hours sometimes after he came home, reading + official papers. She went up the stairs, at first swiftly, then more + slowly, then with almost lagging feet. Why did she hesitate? Why should a + woman falter in going to her husband—to her own one man of all the + world? Was it not, should it not be, ever the open door between them? + Confidence—confidence—could she not have it, could she not get + it now at last? She had paused; but now she moved on with quicker step, + purpose in her face, her eyes softly lighted. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she saw on the floor an opened letter. She picked it up, and, as + she did so, involuntarily observed the writing. Almost mechanically she + glanced at the contents. Her heart stood still. The first words scorched + her eyes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Eglington—Harry, dearest,” it said, “you shall not go to sleep + to-night without a word from me. This will make you think of me + when....” + </pre> + <p> + Frozen, struck as by a mortal blow, Hylda looked at the signature. She + knew it—the cleverest, the most beautiful adventuress which the + aristocracy and society had produced. She trembled from head to foot, and + for a moment it seemed that she must fall. But she steadied herself and + walked firmly to Eglington’s door. Turning the handle softly, she stepped + inside. + </p> + <p> + He did not hear her. He was leaning over a box of papers, and they rustled + loudly under his hand. He was humming to himself that song she heard an + hour ago in Il Trovatore, that song of passion and love and tragedy. It + sent a wave of fresh feeling over her. She could not go on—could not + face him, and say what she must say. She turned and passed swiftly from + the room, leaving the door open, and hurried down the staircase. Eglington + heard now, and wheeled round. He saw the open door, listened to the rustle + of her skirts, knew that she had been there. He smiled, and said to + himself: + </p> + <p> + “She came to me, as I said she would. I shall master her—the full + surrender, and then—life will be easy then.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda hurried down the staircase to her room, saw Kate Heaver waiting, + beckoned to her, caught up her opera-cloak, and together they passed down + the staircase to the front door. Heaver rang a bell, a footman appeared, + and, at a word, called a cab. A minute later they were ready: + </p> + <p> + “Snowdon House,” Hylda said; and they passed into the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. “IS IT ALWAYS SO—IN LIFE?” + </h2> + <p> + The Duchess and her brother, an ex-diplomatist, now deaf and patiently + amiable and garrulous, had met on the doorstep of Snowdon House, and + together they insisted on Lord Windlehurst coming in for a talk. The two + men had not met for a long time, and the retired official had been one of + Lord Windlehurst’s own best appointments in other days. The Duchess had + the carriage wait in consequence. + </p> + <p> + The ex-official could hear little, but he had cultivated the habit of + talking constantly and well. There were some voices, however, which he + could hear more distinctly than others, and Lord Windlehurst’s was one of + them—clear, well-modulated, and penetrating. Sipping brandy and + water, Lord Windlehurst gave his latest quip. They were all laughing + heartily, when the butler entered the room and said, “Lady Eglington is + here, and wishes to see your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + As the butler left the room, the Duchess turned despairingly to + Windlehurst, who had risen, and was paler than the Duchess. “It has come,” + she said, “oh, it has come! I can’t face it.” + </p> + <p> + “But it doesn’t matter about you facing it,” Lord Windlehurst rejoined. + “Go to her and help her, Betty. You know what to do—the one thing.” + He took her hand and pressed it. + </p> + <p> + She dashed the tears from her eyes and drew herself together, while her + brother watched her benevolently. + </p> + <p> + He had not heard what was said. Betty had always been impulsive, he + thought to himself, and here was some one in trouble—they all came + to her, and kept her poor. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, Dick,” the Duchess said to him, and hurried from the room. She + did not hesitate now. Windlehurst had put the matter in the right way. Her + pain was nothing, mere moral cowardice; but Hylda—! + </p> + <p> + She entered the other room as quickly as rheumatic limbs would permit. + Hylda stood waiting, erect, her eyes gazing blankly before her and rimmed + by dark circles, her face haggard and despairing. + </p> + <p> + Before the Duchess could reach her, she said in a hoarse whisper: “I have + left him—I have left him. I have come to you.” + </p> + <p> + With a cry of pity the Duchess would have taken the stricken girl in her + arms, but Hylda held out a shaking hand with the letter in it which had + brought this new woe and this crisis foreseen by Lord Windlehurst. “There—there + it is. He goes from me to her—to that!” She thrust the letter into + the Duchess’s fingers. “You knew—you knew! I saw the look that + passed between you and Windlehurst at the opera. I understand all now. He + left the House of Commons with her—and you knew, oh, you knew! All + the world knows—every one knew but me.” She threw up her hands. “But + I’ve left him—I’ve left him, for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Now the Duchess had her in her arms, and almost forcibly drew her to a + sofa. “Darling, my darling,” she said, “you must not give way. It is not + so bad as you think. You must let me help to make you understand.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda laughed hysterically. “Not so bad as I think! Read—read it,” + she said, taking the letter from the Duchess’s fingers and holding it + before her face. “I found it on the staircase. I could not help but read + it.” She sat and clasped and unclasped her hands in utter misery. “Oh, the + shame of it, the bitter shame of it! Have I not been a good wife to him? + Have I not had reason to break my heart? But I waited, and I wanted to be + good and to do right. And to-night I was going to try once more—I + felt it in the opera. I was going to make one last effort for his sake. It + was for his sake I meant to make it, for I thought him only hard and + selfish, and that he had never loved; and if he only loved, I thought—” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, wringing her hands and staring into space, the ghost of the + beautiful figure that had left the Opera House with shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess caught the cold hands. “Yes, yes, darling, I know. I + understand. So does Windlehurst. He loves you as much as I do. We know + there isn’t much to be got out of life; but we always hoped you would get + more than anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda shrank, then raised her head, and looked at the Duchess with an + infinite pathos. “Oh, is it always so—in life? Is no one true? Is + every one betrayed sometime? I would die—yes, a thousand times yes, + I would rather die than bear this. What do I care for life—it has + cheated me! I meant well, and I tried to do well, and I was true to him in + word and deed even when I suffered most, even when—” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess laid a cheek against the burning head. “I understand, my own + dear. I understand—altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot know,” the broken girl replied; “but through everything I + was true; and I have been tempted too when my heart was aching so, when + the days were so empty, the nights so long, and my heart hurt—hurt + me. But now, it is over, everything is done. You will keep me here—ah, + say you will keep me here till everything can be settled, and I can go + away—far away—far—!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped with a gasping cry, and her eyes suddenly strained into the + distance, as though a vision of some mysterious thing hung before her. The + Duchess realised that that temptation, which has come to so many + disillusioned mortals, to end it all, to find quiet somehow, somewhere out + in the dark, was upon her. She became resourceful and persuasively + commanding. + </p> + <p> + “But no, my darling,” she said, “you are going nowhere. Here in London is + your place now. And you must not stay here in my house. You must go back + to your home. Your place is there. For the present, at any rate, there + must be no scandal. Suspicion is nothing, talk is nothing, and the world + forgets—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do not care for the world or its forgetting!” the wounded girl + replied. “What is the world to me! I wanted my own world, the world of my + four walls, quiet and happy, and free from scandal and shame. I wanted + love and peace there, and now...!” + </p> + <p> + “You must be guided by those who love you. You are too young to decide + what is best for yourself. You must let Windlehurst and me think for you; + and, oh, my darling, you cannot know how much I care for your best good!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, will not, bear the humiliation and the shame. This letter here—you + see!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the letter of a woman who has had more affaires than any man in + London. She is preternaturally clever, my dear—Windlehurst would + tell you so. The brilliant and unscrupulous, the beautiful and the bad, + have a great advantage in this world. Eglington was curious, that is all. + It is in the breed of the Eglingtons to go exploring, to experiment.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda started. Words from the letter Sybil Lady Eglington had left behind + her rushed into her mind: “Experiment, subterfuge, secrecy. ‘Reaping where + you had not sowed, and gathering where you had not strawed.’ Always + experiment, experiment, experiment!” + </p> + <p> + “I have only been married three years,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, my darling; + but much may happen after three days of married life, and love may come + after twenty years. The human heart is a strange thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I was patient—I gave him every chance. He has been false and + shameless. I will not go on.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess pressed both hands hard, and made a last effort, looking into + the deep troubled eyes with her own grown almost beautiful with feeling—the + faded world-worn eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You will go back to-night-at once,” she said firmly. “To-morrow you will + stay in bed till noon-at any rate, till I come. I promise you that you + shall not be treated with further indignity. Your friends will stand by + you, the world will be with you, if you do nothing rash, nothing that + forces it to babble and scold. But you must play its game, my dearest. + I’ll swear that the worst has not happened. She drove him to his club, + and, after a man has had a triumph, a woman will not drive him to his club + if—my darling, you must trust me! If there must be the great smash, + let it be done in a way that will prevent you being smashed also in the + world’s eyes. You can live, and you will live. Is there nothing for you to + do? Is there no one for whom you would do something, who would be + heart-broken if you—if you went mad now?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a great change passed over Hylda. “Is there no one for whom you + would do something?” Just as in the desert a question like this had lifted + a man out of a terrible and destroying apathy, so this searching appeal + roused in Hylda a memory and a pledge. “Is there no one for whom you would + do something?” Was life, then, all over? Was her own great grief all? Was + her bitter shame the end? + </p> + <p> + She got to her feet tremblingly. “I will go back,” she said slowly and + softly. + </p> + <p> + “Windlehurst will take you home,” the Duchess rejoined eagerly. “My + carriage is at the door.” + </p> + <p> + A moment afterwards Lord Windlehurst took Hylda’s hands in his and held + them long. His old, querulous eyes were like lamps of safety; his smile + had now none of that cynicism with which he had aroused and chastened the + world. The pitiful understanding of life was there and a consummate + gentleness. He gave her his arm, and they stepped out into the moonlit + night. “So peaceful, so bright!” he said, looking round. + </p> + <p> + “I will come at noon to-morrow,” called the Duchess from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + A light was still shining in Eglington’s study when the carriage drove up. + With a latch-key Hylda admitted herself and her maid. + </p> + <p> + The storm had broken, the flood had come. The storm was over, but the + flood swept far and wide. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. THE FLYING SHUTTLE + </h2> + <p> + Hour after hour of sleeplessness. The silver-tongued clock remorselessly + tinkled the quarters, and Hylda lay and waited for them with a hopeless + strained attention. In vain she tried devices to produce that monotony of + thought which sometimes brings sleep. Again and again, as she felt that + sleep was coming at last, the thought of the letter she had found flashed + through her mind with words of fire, and it seemed as if there had been + poured through every vein a subtle irritant. Just such a surging, + thrilling flood she had felt in the surgeon’s chair when she was a girl + and an anesthetic had been given. But this wave of sensation led to no + oblivion, no last soothing intoxication. Its current beat against her + heart until she could have cried out from the mere physical pain, the + clamping grip of her trouble. She withered and grew cold under the torture + of it all—the ruthless spoliation of everything which made life + worth while or the past endurable. + </p> + <p> + About an hour after she had gone to bed she heard Eglington’s step. It + paused at her door. She trembled with apprehension lest he should enter. + It was many a day since he had done so, but also she had not heard his + step pause at her door for many a day. She could not bear to face it all + now; she must have time to think, to plan her course—the last course + of all. For she knew that the next step must be the last step in her old + life, and towards a new life, whatever that might be. A great sigh of + relief broke from her as she heard his door open and shut, and silence + fell on everything, that palpable silence which seems to press upon the + night-watcher with merciless, smothering weight. + </p> + <p> + How terribly active her brain was! Pictures—it was all vivid + pictures, that awful visualisation of sorrow which, if it continues, + breaks the heart or wrests the mind from its sanity. If only she did not + see! But she did see Eglington and the Woman together, saw him look into + her eyes, take her hands, put his arm round her, draw her face to his! Her + heart seemed as if it must burst, her lips cried out. With a great effort + of the will she tried to hide from these agonies of the imagination, and + again she would approach those happy confines of sleep, which are the only + refuge to the lacerated heart; and then the weapon of time on the + mantelpiece would clash on the shield of the past, and she was wide awake + again. At last, in desperation, she got out of bed, hurried to the + fireplace, caught the little sharp-tongued recorder in a nervous grasp, + and stopped it. + </p> + <p> + As she was about to get into bed again, she saw a pile of letters lying on + the table near her pillow. In her agitation she had not noticed them, and + the devoted Heaver had not drawn her attention to them. Now, however, with + a strange premonition, she quickly glanced at the envelopes. The last one + of all was less aristocratic-looking than the others; the paper of the + envelope was of the poorest, and it had a foreign look. She caught it up + with an exclamation. The handwriting was that of her cousin Lacey. + </p> + <p> + She got into bed with a mind suddenly swept into a new atmosphere, and + opened the flimsy cover. Shutting her eyes, she lay still for a moment—still + and vague; she was only conscious of one thing, that a curtain had dropped + on the terrible pictures she had seen, and that her mind was in a + comforting quiet. Presently she roused herself, and turned the letter over + in her hand. It was not long—was that because its news was bad news? + The first chronicles of disaster were usually brief! She smoothed the + paper out-it had been crumpled and was a little soiled-and read it + swiftly. It ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR LADY COUSIN—As the poet says, “Man is born to trouble as the + sparks fly upward,” and in Egypt the sparks set the stacks on fire + oftener than anywhere else, I guess. She outclasses Mexico as a + “precious example” in this respect. You needn’t go looking for + trouble in Mexico; it’s waiting for you kindly. If it doesn’t find + you to-day, well, manana. But here it comes running like a native + to his cooking-pot at sunset in Ramadan. Well, there have been + “hard trials” for the Saadat. His cotton-mills were set on fire- + can’t you guess who did it? And now, down in Cairo, Nahoum runs + Egypt; for a messenger that got through the tribes worrying us tells + us that Kaid is sick, and Nahoum the Armenian says, you shall, and + you shan’t, now. Which is another way of saying, that between us + and the front door of our happy homes there are rattlesnakes that + can sting—Nahoum’s arm is long, and his traitors are crawling under + the canvas of our tents! + + I’m not complaining for myself. I asked for what I’ve got, and, + dear Lady Cousin, I put up some cash for it, too, as a man should. + No, I don’t mind for myself, fond as I am of loafing, sort of + pottering round where the streets are in the hands of a pure police; + for I’ve seen more, done more, thought more, up here, than in all my + life before; and I’ve felt a country heaving under the touch of one + of God’s men—it gives you minutes that lift you out of the dust and + away from the crawlers. And I’d do it all over a thousand times for + him, and for what I’ve got out of it. I’ve lived. But, to speak + right out plain, I don’t know how long this machine will run. + There’s been a plant of the worst kind. Tribes we left friendly + under a year ago are out against us; cities that were faithful have + gone under to rebels. Nahoum has sowed the land with the tale that + the Saadat means to abolish slavery, to take away the powers of the + great sheikhs, and to hand the country over to the Turk. Ebn Ezra + Bey has proofs of the whole thing, and now at last the Saadat knows + too late that his work has been spoiled by the only man who could + spoil it. The Saadat knows it, but does he rave and tear his hair? + He says nothing. He stands up like a rock before the riot of + treachery and bad luck and all the terrible burden he has to carry + here. If he wasn’t a Quaker I’d say he had the pride of an + archangel. You can bend him, but you can’t break him; and it takes + a lot to bend him. Men desert, but he says others will come to take + their place. And so they do. It’s wonderful, in spite of the holy + war that’s being preached, and all the lies about him sprinkled over + this part of Africa, how they all fear him, and find it hard to be + out on the war-path against him. We should be gorging the vultures + if he wasn’t the wonder he is. We need boats. Does he sit down and + wring his hands? No, he organises, and builds them—out of scraps. + Hasn’t he enough food for a long siege? He goes himself to the + tribes that have stored food in their cities, and haven’t yet + declared against him, and he puts a hand on their hard hearts, and + takes the sulkiness out of their eyes, and a fleet of ghiassas comes + down to us loaded with dourha. The defences of this place are + nothing. Does he fold his hands like a man of peace that he is, + and say, ‘Thy will be done’? Not the Saadat. He gets two soldier- + engineers, one an Italian who murdered his wife in Italy twenty + years ago, and one a British officer that cheated at cards and had + to go, and we’ve got defences that’ll take some negotiating. That’s + the kind of man he is; smiling to cheer others when their hearts are + in their boots, stern like a commander-in-chief when he’s got to + punish, and then he does it like steel; but I’ve seen him afterwards + in his tent with a face that looks sixty, and he’s got to travel a + while yet before he’s forty. None of us dares be as afraid as we + could be, because a look at him would make us so ashamed we’d have + to commit suicide. He hopes when no one else would ever hope. The + other day I went to his tent to wait for him, and I saw his Bible + open on the table. A passage was marked. It was this: + + “Behold, I have taken out of thy hand the cup of trembling, even the + dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again: But + I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; which have + said to thy soul, Bow down, that we may go over; and thou hast laid + thy body as the ground, and as the street, to them that went over.” + + I’d like to see Nahoum with that cup of trembling in his hand, and + I’ve got an idea, too, that it will be there yet. I don’t know how + it is, but I never can believe the worst will happen to the Saadat. + Reading those verses put hope into me. That’s why I’m writing to + you, on the chance of this getting through by a native who is + stealing down the river with a letter from the Saadat to Nahoum, and + one to Kaid, and one to the Foreign Minister in London, and one to + your husband. If they reach the hands they’re meant for, it may be + we shall pan out here yet. But there must be display of power; an + army must be sent, without delay, to show the traitors that the game + is up. Five thousand men from Cairo under a good general would do + it. Will Nahoum send them? Does Kaid, the sick man, know? I’m not + banking on Kaid. I think he’s on his last legs. Unless pressure is + put on him, unless some one takes him by the throat and says: If you + don’t relieve Claridge Pasha and the people with him, you will go to + the crocodiles, Nahoum won’t stir. So, I am writing to you. + England can do it. The lord, your husband, can do it. England will + have a nasty stain on her flag if she sees this man go down without + a hand lifted to save him. He is worth another Alma to her + prestige. She can’t afford to see him slaughtered here, where he’s + fighting the fight of civilisation. You see right through this + thing, I know, and I don’t need to palaver any more about it. It + doesn’t matter about me. I’ve had a lot for my money, and I’m no + use—or I wouldn’t be, if anything happened to the Saadat. No one + would drop a knife and fork at the breakfast-table when my obit was + read out—well, yes, there’s one, cute as she can be, but she’s lost + two husbands already, and you can’t be hurt so bad twice in the same + place. But the Saadat, back him, Hylda—I’ll call you that at this + distance. Make Nahoum move. Send four or five thousand men before + the day comes when famine does its work and they draw the bowstring + tight. + + Salaam and salaam, and the post is going out, and there’s nothing in + the morning paper; and, as Aunt Melissa used to say: “Well, so much + for so much!” One thing I forgot. I’m lucky to be writing to you + at all. If the Saadat was an old-fashioned overlord, I shouldn’t be + here. I got into a bad corner three days ago with a dozen Arabs— + I’d been doing a little work with a friendly tribe all on my own, + and I almost got caught by this loose lot of fanatics. I shot + three, and galloped for it. I knew the way through the mines + outside, and just escaped by the skin of my teeth. Did the Saadat, + as a matter of discipline, have me shot for cowardice? Cousin + Hylda, my heart was in my mouth as I heard them yelling behind me— + and I never enjoyed a dinner so much in my life. Would the Saadat + have run from them? Say, he’d have stayed and saved his life too. + Well, give my love to the girls! + + Your affectionate cousin, + + Tom LACEY. + + P.S.-There’s no use writing to me. The letter service is bad. Send + a few thousand men by military parcel-post, prepaid, with some red + seals—majors and colonels from Aldershot will do. They’ll give the + step to the Gyppies. T. +</pre> + <p> + Hylda closed her eyes. A fever had passed from her veins. Here lay her + duty before her—the redemption of the pledge she had made. Whatever + her own sorrow, there was work before her; a supreme effort must be made + for another. Even now it might be too late. She must have strength for + what she meant to do. She put the room in darkness, and resolutely + banished thought from her mind. + </p> + <p> + The sun had been up for hours before she waked. Eglington had gone to the + Foreign Office. The morning papers were full of sensational reports + concerning Claridge Pasha and the Soudan. A Times leader sternly + admonished the Government. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. JASPER KIMBER SPEAKS + </h2> + <p> + That day the adjournment of the House of Commons was moved “To call + attention to an urgent matter of public importance”—the position of + Claridge Pasha in the Soudan. Flushed with the success of last night’s + performance, stung by the attacks of the Opposition morning papers, + confident in the big majority behind, which had cheered him a few hours + before, viciously resenting the letter he had received from David that + morning, Eglington returned such replies to the questions put to him that + a fire of angry mutterings came from the forces against him. He might have + softened the growing resentment by a change of manner, but his + intellectual arrogance had control of him for the moment; and he said to + himself that he had mastered the House before, and he would do so now. + Apart from his deadly antipathy to his half-brother, and the gain to + himself—to his credit, the latter weighed with him not so much, so + set was he on a stubborn course—if David disappeared for ever, there + was at bottom a spirit of anti-expansion, of reaction against England’s + world-wide responsibilities. He had no largeness of heart or view + concerning humanity. He had no inherent greatness, no breadth of policy. + With less responsibility taken, there would be less trouble, national and + international—that was his point of view; that had been his view + long ago at the meeting at Heddington; and his weak chief had taken it, + knowing nothing of the personal elements behind. + </p> + <p> + The disconcerting factor in the present bitter questioning in the House + was, that it originated on his own side. It was Jasper Kimber who had + launched the questions, who moved the motion for adjournment. Jasper had + had a letter from Kate Heaver that morning early, which sent him to her, + and he had gone to the House to do what he thought to be his duty. He did + it boldly, to the joy of the Opposition, and with a somewhat sullen + support from many on his own side. Now appeared Jasper’s own inner disdain + of the man who had turned his coat for office. It gave a lead to a latent + feeling among members of the ministerial party, of distrust, and of + suspicion that they were the dupes of a mind of abnormal cleverness which, + at bottom, despised them. + </p> + <p> + With flashing eyes and set lips, vigilant and resourceful, Eglington + listened to Jasper Kimber’s opening remarks. + </p> + <p> + By unremitting industry Jasper had made a place for himself in the House. + The humour and vitality of his speeches, and his convincing advocacy of + the cause of the “factory folk,” had gained him a hearing. Thickset, under + middle size, with an arm like a giant and a throat like a bull, he had + strong common sense, and he gave the impression that he would wear his + heart out for a good friend or a great cause, but that if he chose to be + an enemy he would be narrow, unrelenting, and persistent. For some time + the House had been aware that he had more than a gift for criticism of the + Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. + </p> + <p> + His speech began almost stumblingly, his h’s ran loose, and his grammar + became involved, but it was seen that he meant business, that he had that + to say which would give anxiety to the Government, that he had a case + wherein were the elements of popular interest and appeal, and that he was + thinking and speaking as thousands outside the House would think and + speak. + </p> + <p> + He had waited for this hour. Indirectly he owed to Claridge Pasha all that + he had become. The day in which David knocked him down saw the depths of + his degradation reached, and, when he got up, it was to start on a new + life uncertainly, vaguely at first, but a new life for all that. He knew, + from a true source, of Eglington’s personal hatred of Claridge Pasha, + though he did not guess their relationship; and all his interest was + enlisted for the man who had, as he knew, urged Kate Heaver to marry + himself—and Kate was his great ambition now. Above and beyond these + personal considerations was a real sense of England’s duty to the man who + was weaving the destiny of a new land. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t England’s business?” he retorted, in answer to an interjection + from a faithful soul behind the ministerial Front Bench. “Well, it wasn’t + the business of the Good Samaritan to help the man that had been robbed + and left for dead by the wayside; but he did it. As to David Claridge’s + work, some have said that—I’ve no doubt it’s been said in the + Cabinet, and it is the thing the Under-Secretary would say as naturally as + he would flick a fly from his boots—that it’s a generation too soon. + Who knows that? I suppose there was those that thought John the Baptist + was baptising too soon, that Luther preached too soon, and Savonarola was + in too great a hurry, all because he met his death and his enemies + triumphed—and Galileo and Hampden and Cromwell and John Howard were + all too soon. Who’s to be judge of that? God Almighty puts it into some + men’s minds to work for a thing that’s a great, and maybe an impossible, + thing, so far as the success of the moment is concerned. Well, for a thing + that has got to be done some time, the seed has to be sown, and it’s + always sown by men like Claridge Pasha, who has shown millions of people—barbarians + and half-civilised alike—what a true lover of the world can do. God + knows, I think he might have stayed and found a cause in England, but he + elected to go to the ravaging Soudan, and he is England there, the best of + it. And I know Claridge Pasha—from his youth up I have seen him, and + I stand here to bear witness of what the working men of England will say + to-morrow. Right well the noble lord yonder knows that what I say is true. + He has known it for years. Claridge Pasha would never have been in his + present position, if the noble lord had not listened to the enemies of + Claridge Pasha and of this country, in preference to those who know and + hold the truth as I tell it here to-day. I don’t know whether the noble + lord has repented or not; but I do say that his Government will rue it, if + his answer is not the one word ‘Intervention!’ Mistaken, rash or not, + dreamer if you like, Claridge Pasha should be relieved now, and his policy + discussed afterwards. I don’t envy the man who holds a contrary opinion; + he’ll be ashamed of it some day. But”—he pointed towards Eglington—“but + there sits the minister in whose hands his fate has been. Let us hope that + this speech of mine needn’t have been made, and that I’ve done injustice + to his patriotism and to the policy he will announce.” + </p> + <p> + “A set-back, a sharp set-back,” said Lord Windlehurst, in the Peers’ + Gallery, as the cheers of the Opposition and of a good number of + ministerialists sounded through the Chamber. There were those on the + Treasury Bench who saw danger ahead. There was an attempt at a conference, + but Kimber’s seconder only said a half-dozen words, and sat down, and + Eglington had to rise before any definite confidences could be exchanged. + One word only he heard behind him as he got up. It was the word, + “Temporise,” and it came from the Prime Minister. + </p> + <p> + Eglington was in no mood for temporising. Attack only nerved him. He was a + good and ruthless fighter; and last night’s intoxication of success was + still in his brain. He did not temporise. He did not leave a way of + retreat open for the Prime Minister, who would probably wind up the + debate. He fought with skill, but he fought without gloves, and the House + needed gentle handling. He had the gift of effective speech to a rare + degree, and when he liked he could be insinuating and witty, but he had + not genuine humour or good feeling, and the House knew it. In debate he + was biting, resourceful, and unscrupulous. He made the fatal mistake of + thinking that intellect and gifts of fence, followed by a brilliant + peroration, in which he treated the commonplaces of experienced minds as + though they were new discoveries and he was their Columbus, could + accomplish anything. He had never had a political crisis, but one had come + now. + </p> + <p> + In his reply he first resorted to arguments of high politics, historical, + informative, and, in a sense, commanding; indeed, the House became + restless under what seemed a piece of intellectual dragooning. Signs of + impatience appeared on his own side, and, when he ventured on a solemn + warning about hampering ministers who alone knew the difficulties of + diplomacy and the danger of wounding the susceptibilities of foreign and + friendly countries, the silence was broken by a voice that said + sneeringly, “The kid-glove Government!” + </p> + <p> + Then he began to lose place with the Chamber. He was conscious of it, and + shifted his ground, pointing out the dangers of doing what the other + nations interested in Egypt were not prepared to do. + </p> + <p> + “Have you asked them? Have you pressed them?” was shouted across the + House. Eglington ignored the interjections. “Answer! Answer!” was called + out angrily, but he shrugged a shoulder and continued his argument. If a + man insisted on using a flying-machine before the principle was fully + mastered and applied—if it could be mastered and applied—it + must not be surprising if he was killed. Amateurs sometimes took + preposterous risks without the advice of the experts. If Claridge Pasha + had asked the advice of the English Government, or of any of the + Chancellories of Europe, as to his incursions into the Soudan and his + premature attempts at reform, he would have received expert advice that + civilisation had not advanced to that stage in this portion of the world + which would warrant his experiments. It was all very well for one man to + run vast risks and attempt quixotic enterprises, but neither he nor his + countrymen had any right to expect Europe to embroil itself on his + particular account. + </p> + <p> + At this point he was met by angry cries of dissent, which did not come + from the Opposition alone. His lips set, he would not yield. The + Government could not hold itself responsible for Claridge Pasha’s relief, + nor in any sense for his present position. However, from motives of + humanity, it would make representations in the hope that the Egyptian + Government would act; but it was not improbable, in view of past + experiences of Claridge Pasha, that he would extricate himself from his + present position, perhaps had done so already. Sympathy and sentiment were + natural and proper manifestations of human society, but governments were, + of necessity, ruled by sterner considerations. The House must realise that + the Government could not act as though it were wholly a free agent, or as + if its every move would not be matched by another move on the part of + another Power or Powers. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a brilliant and effective appeal to his own party to trust + the Government, to credit it with feeling and with a due regard for + English prestige and the honour brought to it by Claridge Pasha’s personal + qualities, whatever might be thought of his crusading enterprises. The + party must not fall into the trap of playing the game of the Opposition. + Then, with some supercilious praise of the “worthy sentiments” of Jasper + Kimber’s speech and a curt depreciation of its reasoning, he declared + that: “No Government can be ruled by clamour. The path to be trodden by + this Government will be lighted by principles of progress and + civilisation, humanity and peace, the urbane power of reason, and the + persuasive influence of just consideration for the rights of others, + rather than the thunder and the threat of the cannon and the sword!” + </p> + <p> + He sat down amid the cheers of a large portion of his party, for the end + of his speech had been full of effective if meretricious appeal. But the + debate that followed showed that the speech had been a failure. He had not + uttered one warm or human word concerning Claridge Pasha, and it was felt + and said, that no pledge had been given to insure the relief of the man + who had caught the imagination of England. + </p> + <p> + The debate was fierce and prolonged. Eglington would not agree to any + modification of his speech, to any temporising. Arrogant and insistent, he + had his way, and, on a division, the Government was saved by a mere + handful of votes—votes to save the party, not to indorse Eglington’s + speech or policy. + </p> + <p> + Exasperated and with jaw set, but with a defiant smile, Eglington drove + straight home after the House rose. He found Hylda in the library with an + evening paper in her hands. She had read and reread his speech, and had + steeled herself for “the inevitable hour,” to this talk which would decide + for ever their fate and future. + </p> + <p> + Eglington entered the room smiling. He remembered the incident of the + night before, when she came to his study and then hurriedly retreated. He + had been defiant and proudly disdainful at the House and on the way home; + but in his heart of hearts he was conscious of having failed to have his + own way; and, like such men, he wanted assurance that he could not err, + and he wanted sympathy. Almost any one could have given it to him, and he + had a temptation to seek that society which was his the evening before; + but he remembered that she was occupied where he could not reach her, and + here was Hylda, from whom he had been estranged, but who must surely have + seen by now that at Hamley she had been unreasonable, and that she must + trust his judgment. So absorbed was he with self and the failure of his + speech, that, for a moment, he forgot the subject of it, and what that + subject meant to them both. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of my speech, Hylda?” he asked, as he threw himself + into a chair. “I see you have been reading it. Is it a full report?” + </p> + <p> + She handed the paper over. “Quite full,” she answered evenly. + </p> + <p> + He glanced down the columns. “Sentimentalists!” he said as his eye caught + an interjection. “Cant!” he added. Then he looked at Hylda, and remembered + once again on whom and what his speech had been made. He saw that her face + was very pale. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of my speech?” he repeated stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + “If you think an answer necessary, I regard it as wicked and unpatriotic,” + she answered firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose you would,” he rejoined bitingly. She got to her feet + slowly, a flush passing over her face. “If you think I would, did you not + think that a great many other people would think so too, and for the same + reason?” she asked, still evenly, but very slowly. “Not for the same + reason,” he rejoined in a low, savage voice. + </p> + <p> + “You do not treat me well,” she said, with a voice that betrayed no hurt, + no indignation. It seemed to state a fact deliberately; that was all. + </p> + <p> + “No, please,” she added quickly, as she saw him rise to his feet with + anger trembling at his lips. “Do not say what is on your tongue to say. + Let us speak quietly to-night. It is better; and I am tired of strife, + spoken and unspoken. I have got beyond that. But I want to speak of what + you did to-day in Parliament.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have said it was wicked and unpatriotic,” he rejoined, sitting + down again and lighting a cigar, in an attempt to be composed. + </p> + <p> + “What you said was that; but I am concerned with what you did. Did your + speech mean that you would not press the Egyptian Government to relieve + Claridge Pasha at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the conclusion you draw from my words?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I wish to know beyond doubt if that is what you mean the country + to believe?” + </p> + <p> + “It is what I mean you to believe, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She shrank from the last two words, but still went on quietly, though her + eyes burned and she shivered. “If you mean that you will do nothing, it + will ruin you and your Government,” she answered. “Kimber was right, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Kimber was inspired from here,” he interjected sharply. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand upon herself. “Do you think I would intrigue against you? + Do you think I would stoop to intrigue?” she asked, a hand clasping and + unclasping a bracelet on her wrist, her eyes averted, for very shame that + he should think the thought he had uttered. + </p> + <p> + “It came from this house—the influence,” he rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say. It is possible,” she answered; “but you cannot think that I + connive with my maid against you. I think Kimber has reasons of his own + for acting as he did to-day. He speaks for many besides himself; and he + spoke patriotically this afternoon. He did his duty.” + </p> + <p> + “And I did not? Do you think I act alone?” + </p> + <p> + “You did not do your duty, and I think that you are not alone responsible. + That is why I hope the Government will be influenced by public feeling.” + She came a step nearer to him. “I ask you to relieve Claridge Pasha at any + cost. He is your father’s son. If you do not, when all the truth is known, + you will find no shelter from the storm that will break over you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will tell—the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know yet what I shall do,” she answered. “It will depend on you; + but it is your duty to tell the truth, not mine. That does not concern me; + but to save Claridge Pasha does concern me.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have known.” + </p> + <p> + Her heart panted for a moment with a wild indignation; but she quieted + herself, and answered almost calmly: “If you refuse to do that which is + honourable—and human, then I shall try to do it for you while yet I + bear your name. If you will not care for your family honour, then I shall + try to do so. If you will not do your duty, then I will try to do it for + you.” She looked him determinedly in the eyes. “Through you I have lost + nearly all I cared to keep in the world. I should like to feel that in + this one thing you acted honourably.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet, bursting with anger, in spite of the inward + admonition that much that he prized was in danger, that any breach with + Hylda would be disastrous. But self-will and his native arrogance + overruled the monitor within, and he said: “Don’t preach to me, don’t play + the martyr. You will do this and you will do that! You will save my honour + and the family name! You will relieve Claridge Pasha, you will do what + Governments choose not to do; you will do what your husband chooses not to + do—Well, I say that you will do what your husband chooses to do, or + take the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will take the consequences,” she answered. “I will save + Claridge Pasha, if it is possible. It is no boast. I will do it, if it can + be done at all, if it is God’s will that it should be done; and in doing + it I shall be conscious that you and I will do nothing together again—never! + But that will not stop me; it will make me do it, the last right thing, + before the end.” + </p> + <p> + She was so quiet, so curiously quiet. Her words had a strange solemnity, a + tragic apathy. What did it mean? He had gone too far, as he had done + before. He had blundered viciously, as he had blundered before. + </p> + <p> + She spoke again before he could collect his thoughts and make reply. + </p> + <p> + “I did not ask for too much, I think, and I could have forgiven and + forgotten all the hurts you have given me, if it were not for one thing. + You have been unjust, hard, selfish, and suspicious. Suspicious—of + me! No one else in all the world ever thought of me what you have thought. + I have done all I could. I have honourably kept the faith. But you have + spoiled it all. I have no memory that I care to keep. It is stained. My + eyes can never bear to look upon the past again, the past with you—never.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to leave the room. He caught her arm. “You will wait till you + hear what I have to say,” he cried in anger. Her last words had stung him + so, her manner was so pitilessly scornful. It was as though she looked + down on him from a height. His old arrogance fought for mastery over his + apprehension. What did she know? What did she mean? In any case he must + face it out, be strong—and merciful and affectionate afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Hylda,” he said. “We must talk this out.” + </p> + <p> + She freed her arm. “There is nothing to talk out,” she answered. “So far + as our relations are concerned, all reason for talk is gone.” She drew the + fatal letter from the sash at her waist. “You will think so too when you + read this letter again.” She laid it on the table beside him, and, as he + opened and glanced at it, she left the room. + </p> + <p> + He stood with the letter in his hand, dumfounded. “Good God!” he said, and + sank into a chair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. FAITH JOURNEYS TO LONDON + </h2> + <p> + Faith withdrew her eyes from Hylda’s face, and they wandered helplessly + over the room. They saw, yet did not see; and even in her trouble there + was some subconscious sense softly commenting on the exquisite refinement + and gentle beauty which seemed to fill the room; but the only definite + objects which the eyes registered at the moment were the flowers filling + every corner. Hylda had been lightly adjusting a clump of roses when she + entered; and she had vaguely noticed how pale was the face that bent over + the flowers, how pale and yet how composed—as she had seen a Quaker + face, after some sorrow had passed over it, and left it like a quiet sea + in the sun, when wreck and ruin were done. It was only a swift impression, + for she could think of but one thing, David and his safety. She had come + to Hylda, she said, because of Lord Eglington’s position, and she could + not believe that the Government would see David’s work undone and David + killed by the slave-dealers of Africa. + </p> + <p> + Hylda’s reply had given her no hope that Eglington would keep the promise + he had made that evening long ago when her father had come upon them by + the old mill, and because of which promise she had forgiven Eglington so + much that was hard to forgive. Hylda had spoken with sorrowful decision, + and then this pause had come, in which Faith tried to gain composure and + strength. There was something strangely still in the two women. From the + far past, through Quaker ancestors, there had come to Hylda now this grey + mist of endurance and self-control and austere reserve. Yet behind it all, + beneath it all, a wild heart was beating. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as they looked into each other’s eyes, and Faith dimly + apprehended something of Hylda’s distress and its cause, Hylda leaned over + and spasmodically pressed her hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is so, Faith,” she said. “They will do nothing. International + influences are too strong.” She paused. “The Under-Secretary for Foreign + Affairs will do nothing; but yet we must hope. Claridge Pasha has saved + himself in the past; and he may do so now, even though it is all ten times + worse. Then, there is another way. Nahoum Pasha can save him, if he can be + saved. And I am going to Egypt—to Nahoum.” + </p> + <p> + Faith’s face blanched. Something of the stark truth swept into her brain. + She herself had suffered—her own life had been maimed, it had had + its secret bitterness. Her love for her sister’s son was that of a mother, + sister, friend combined, and he was all she had in life. That he lived, + that she might cherish the thought of him living, was the one thing she + had; and David must be saved, if that might be; but this girl—was + she not a girl, ten years younger than herself?—to go to Egypt to do—what? + She herself lived out of the world, but she knew the world! To go to + Egypt, and—“Thee will not go to Egypt. What can thee do?” she + pleaded, something very like a sob in her voice. “Thee is but a woman, and + David would not be saved at such a price, and I would not have him saved + so. Thee will not go. Say thee will not. He is all God has left to me in + life; but thee to go—ah, no! It is a bitter world—and what + could thee do?” + </p> + <p> + Hylda looked at her reflectively. Should she tell Faith all, and take her + to Egypt? No, she could not take her without telling her all, and that was + impossible now. There might come a time when this wise and tender soul + might be taken into the innermost chambers, when all the truth might be + known; but the secret of David’s parentage was Eglington’s concern most of + all, and she would not speak now; and what was between Nahoum and David + was David’s concern; and she had kept his secret all these years. No, + Faith might not know now, and might not come with her. On this mission she + must go alone. + </p> + <p> + Hylda rose to her feet, still keeping hold of Faith’s hand. “Go back to + Hamley and wait there,” she said, in a colourless voice. “You can do + nothing; it may be I can do much. Whatever can be done I can do, since + England will not act. Pray for his safety. It is all you can do. It is + given to some to work, to others to pray. I must work now.” + </p> + <p> + She led Faith towards the door; she could not endure more; she must hold + herself firm for the journey and the struggle before her. If she broke + down now she could not go forward; and Faith’s presence roused in her an + emotion almost beyond control. + </p> + <p> + At the door she took both of Faith’s hands in hers, and kissed her cheek. + “It is your place to stay; you will see that it is best. Good-bye,” she + added hurriedly, and her eyes were so blurred that she could scarcely see + the graceful, demure figure pass into the sunlit street. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Lord Windlehurst entered the Duchess of Snowdon’s presence + hurried and excited. She started on seeing his face. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” she asked breathlessly. “She is gone,” he answered. + “Our girl has gone to Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess almost staggered to her feet. “Windlehurst—gone!” she + gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I called to see her. Her ladyship had gone into the country, the footman + said. I saw the butler, a faithful soul, who would die—or clean the + area steps—for her. He was discreet; but he knew what you and I are + to her. It was he got the tickets—for Marseilles and Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess began to cry silently. Big tears ran down a face from which + the glow of feeling had long fled, but her eyes were sad enough. + </p> + <p> + “Gone—gone! It is the end!” was all she could say. Lord Windlehurst + frowned, though his eyes were moist. “We must act at once. You must go to + Egypt, Betty. You must catch her at Marseilles. Her boat does not sail for + three days. She thought it went sooner, as it was advertised to do. It is + delayed—I’ve found that out. You can start to-night, and—and + save the situation. You will do it, Betty?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do anything you say, as I have always done.” She dried her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “She is a good girl. We must do all we can. I’ll arrange everything for + you myself. I’ve written this paragraph to go into the papers to-morrow + morning: ‘The Duchess of Snowdon, accompanied by Lady Eglington, left + London last night for the Mediterranean via Calais, to be gone for two + months or more.’ That is simple and natural. I’ll see Eglington. He must + make no fuss. He thinks she has gone to Hamley, so the butler says. There, + it’s all clear. Your work is cut out, Betty, and I know you will do it as + no one else can.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Windlehurst,” she answered, with a hand clutching at his arm, “if we + fail, it will kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “If she fails, it will kill her,” he answered, “and she is very young. + What is in her mind, who can tell? But she thinks she can help Claridge + somehow. We must save her, Betty.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to think you had no real feeling, Windlehurst. You didn’t show + it,” she said in a low voice. “Ah, that was because you had too much,” he + answered. “I had to wait till you had less.” He took out his watch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. HYLDA SEEKS NAHOUM + </h2> + <p> + It was as though she had gone to sleep the night before, and waked again + upon this scene unchanged, brilliant, full of colour, a chaos of + decoration—confluences of noisy, garish streams of life, eddies of + petty labour. Craftsmen crowded one upon the other in dark bazaars; + merchants chattered and haggled on their benches; hawkers clattered and + cried their wares. It was a people that lived upon the streets, for all + the houses seemed empty and forsaken. The sais ran before the Pasha’s + carriage, the donkey-boys shrieked for their right of way, a train of + camels calmly forced its passage through the swirling crowds, supercilious + and heavy-laden. + </p> + <p> + It seemed but yesterday since she had watched with amused eyes the + sherbet-sellers clanking their brass saucers, the carriers streaming the + water from the bulging goatskins into the earthen bottles, crying, “Allah + be praised, here is coolness for thy throat for ever!” the idle singer + chanting to the soft kanoon, the chess-players in the shade of a high + wall, lost to the world, the dancing-girls with unveiled, shameless faces, + posturing for evil eyes. Nothing had changed these past six years. Yet + everything had changed. + </p> + <p> + She saw it all as in a dream, for her mind had no time for reverie or + retrospect; it was set on one thing only. + </p> + <p> + Yet behind the one idea possessing her there was a subconscious self + taking note of all these sights and sounds, and bringing moisture to her + eyes. Passing the house which David had occupied on that night when he and + she and Nahoum and Mizraim had met, the mist of feeling almost blinded + her; for there at the gate sat the bowab who had admitted her then, and + with apathetic eyes had watched her go, in the hour when it seemed that + she and David Claridge had bidden farewell for ever, two driftwood spars + that touched and parted in the everlasting sea. Here again in the Palace + square were Kaid’s Nubians in their glittering armour as of silver and + gold, drawn up as she had seen them drawn then, to be reviewed by their + overlord. + </p> + <p> + She swept swiftly through the streets and bazaars on her mission to + Nahoum. “Lady Eglington” had asked for an interview, and Nahoum had + granted it without delay. He did not associate her with the girl for whom + David Claridge had killed Foorgat Pey, and he sent his own carriage to + bring her to the Palace. No time had been lost, for it was less than + twenty-four hours since she had arrived in Cairo, and very soon she would + know the worst or the best. She had put her past away for the moment, and + the Duchess of Snowdon had found at Marseilles a silent, determined, yet + gentle-tongued woman, who refused to look back, or to discuss anything + vital to herself and Eglington, until what she had come to Egypt to do was + accomplished. Nor would she speak of the future, until the present had + been fully declared and she knew the fate of David Claridge. In Cairo + there were only varying rumours: that he was still holding out; that he + was lost; that he had broken through; that he was a prisoner—all + without foundation upon which she could rely. + </p> + <p> + As she neared the Palace entrance, a female fortune-teller ran forward, + thrusting towards her a gazelle’s skin, filled with the instruments of her + mystic craft, and crying out: “I divine-I reveal! What is present I + manifest! What is absent I declare! What is future I show! Beautiful one, + hear me. It is all written. To thee is greatness, and thy heart’s desire. + Hear all! See! Wait for the revealing. Thou comest from afar, but thy + fortune is near. Hear and see. I divine—I reveal. Beautiful one, + what is future I show.” + </p> + <p> + Hylda’s eyes looked at the poor creature eagerly, pathetically. If it + could only be, if she could but see one step ahead! If the veil could but + be lifted! She dropped some silver into the folds of the gazelle-skin and + waved the Gipsy away. “There is darkness, it is all dark, beautiful one,” + cried the woman after her, “but it shall be light. I show—I reveal!” + </p> + <p> + Inside these Palace walls there was a revealer of more merit, as she so + well and bitterly knew. He could raise the veil—a dark and dangerous + necromancer, with a flinty heart and a hand that had waited long to + strike. Had it struck its last blow? + </p> + <p> + Outside Nahoum’s door she had a moment of utter weakness, when her knees + smote together, and her throat became parched; but before the door had + swung wide and her eyes swept the cool and shadowed room, she was as + composed as on that night long ago when she had faced the man who knew. + </p> + <p> + Nahoum was standing in a waiting and respectful attitude as she entered. + He advanced towards her and bowed low, but stopped dumfounded, as he saw + who she was. Presently he recovered himself; but he offered no further + greeting than to place a chair for her where her face was in the shadow + and his in the light—time of crisis as it was, she noticed this and + marvelled at him. His face was as she had seen it those years ago. It + showed no change whatever. The eyes looked at her calmly, openly, with no + ulterior thought behind, as it might seem. The high, smooth forehead, the + full but firm lips, the brown, well-groomed beard, were all indicative of + a nature benevolent and refined. Where did the duplicity lie? Her mind + answered its own question on the instant; it lay in the brain and the + tongue. Both were masterly weapons, an armament so complete that it + controlled the face and eyes and outward man into a fair semblance of + honesty. The tongue—she remembered its insinuating and adroit power, + and how it had deceived the man she had come to try and save. She must not + be misled by it. She felt it was to be a struggle between them, and she + must be alert and persuasive, and match him word for word, move for move. + </p> + <p> + “I am happy to welcome you here, madame,” he said in English. “It is years + since we met; yet time has passed you by.” + </p> + <p> + She flushed ever so slightly—compliment from Nahoum Pasha! Yet she + must not resent anything to-day; she must get what she came for, if it was + possible. What had Lacey said? “A few thousand men by parcel-post, and + some red seals-British officers.” + </p> + <p> + “We meet under different circumstances,” she replied meaningly. “You were + asking a great favour then.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but of you, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you appealed to me when you were doubtful of the result.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, it may be so—but, yes, you are right; I thought you + were Claridge Pasha’s kinswoman, I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, you said you thought I was Claridge Pasha’s kinswoman.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are not?” he asked reflectively. + </p> + <p> + He did not understand the slight change that passed over her face. His + kinswoman—Claridge Pasha’s kinswoman! + </p> + <p> + “I was not his kinswoman,” she answered calmly. “You came to ask a favour + then of Claridge Pasha; your life-work to do under him. I remember your + words: ‘I can aid thee in thy great task. Thou wouldst remake our Egypt, + and my heart is with you. I would rescue, not destroy.... I would labour, + but my master has taken away from me the anvil, the fire, and the hammer, + and I sit without the door like an armless beggar.’ Those were your words, + and Claridge Pasha listened and believed, and saved your life and gave you + work; and now again you have power greater than all others in Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I congratulate you on a useful memory. May it serve you as the + hill-fountain the garden in the city! Those indeed were my words. I hear + myself from your lips, and yet recognise myself, if that be not vanity. + But, madame, why have you sought me? What is it you wish to know—to + hear?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her innocently, as though he did not know her errand; as + though beyond, in the desert, there was no tragedy approaching—or + come. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, you are aware that I have come to ask for news of Claridge + Pasha.” She leaned forward slightly, but, apart from her tightly + interlaced fingers, it would not have been possible to know that she was + under any strain. + </p> + <p> + “You come to me instead of to the Effendina. May I ask why, madame? Your + husband’s position—I did not know you were Lord Eglington’s wife—would + entitle you to the highest consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew that Nahoum Pasha would have the whole knowledge, while the + Effendina would have part only. Excellency, will you not tell me what news + You have? Is Claridge Pasha alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I do not know. He is in the desert. He was surrounded. For over a + month there has been no word-none. He is in danger. His way by the river + was blocked. He stayed too long. He might have escaped, but he would + insist on saving the loyal natives, on remaining with them, since he could + not bring them across the desert; and the river and the desert are silent. + Nothing comes out of that furnace yonder. Nothing comes.” + </p> + <p> + He bent his eyes upon her complacently. Her own dropped. She could not + bear that he should see the misery in them. + </p> + <p> + “You have come to try and save him, madame. What did you expect to do? + Your Government did not strengthen my hands; your husband did nothing—nothing + that could make it possible for me to act. There are many nations here, + alas! Your husband does not take so great an interest in the fate of + Claridge Pasha as yourself, madame.” + </p> + <p> + She ignored the insult. She had determined to endure everything, if she + might but induce this man to do the thing that could be done—if it + was not too late. Before she could frame a reply, he said urbanely: + </p> + <p> + “But that is not to be expected. There was that between Claridge Pasha and + yourself which would induce you to do all you might do for him, to be + anxious for his welfare. Gratitude is a rare thing—as rare as the + flower of the century—aloe; but you have it, madame.” + </p> + <p> + There was no chance to misunderstand him. Foorgat Bey—he knew the + truth, and had known it all these years. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency,” she said, “if through me, Claridge Pasha—” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, madame,” he interrupted, and, opening a drawer, took out a + letter. “I think that what you would say may be found here, with much else + that you will care to know. It is the last news of Claridge Pasha—a + letter from him. I understand all you would say to me; but he who has most + at stake has said it, and, if he failed, do you think, madame, that you + could succeed?” + </p> + <p> + He handed her the letter with a respectful salutation. + </p> + <p> + “In the hour he left, madame, he came to know that the name of Foorgat Bey + was not blotted from the book of Time, nor from Fate’s reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + After all these years! Her instinct had been true, then, that night so + long ago. The hand that took the letter trembled slightly in spite of her + will, but it was not the disclosure Nahoum had made which caused her + agitation. This letter she held was in David Claridge’s hand, the first + she had ever seen, and, maybe, the last that he had ever written, or that + any one would ever see, a document of tears. But no, there were no tears + in this letter! As Hylda read it the trembling passed from her fingers, + and a great thrilling pride possessed her. If tragedy had come, then it + had fallen like a fire from heaven, not like a pestilence rising from the + earth. Here indeed was that which justified all she had done, what she was + doing now, what she meant to do when she had read the last word of it and + the firm, clear signature beneath. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Excellency [the letter began in English], I came into the desert + and into the perils I find here, with your last words in my ear, + ‘There is the matter of Foorgat Bey.’ The time you chose to speak + was chosen well for your purpose, but ill for me. I could not turn + back, I must go on. Had I returned, of what avail? What could I do + but say what I say here, that my hand killed Foorgat Bey; that I had + not meant to kill him, though at the moment I struck I took no heed + whether he lived or died. Since you know of my sorrowful deed, you + also know why Foorgat Bey was struck down. When, as I left the bank + of the Nile, your words blinded my eyes, my mind said in its misery: + ‘Now, I see!’ The curtains fell away from between you and me, and I + saw all that you had done for vengeance and revenge. You knew all + on that night when you sought your life of me and the way back to + Kaid’s forgiveness. I see all as though you spoke it in my ear. + You had reason to hurt me, but you had no reason for hurting Egypt, + as you have done. I did not value my life, as you know well, for it + has been flung into the midst of dangers for Egypt’s sake, how + often! It was not cowardice which made me hide from you and all the + world the killing of Foorgat Bey. I desired to face the penalty, + for did not my act deny all that I had held fast from my youth up? + But there was another concerned—a girl, but a child in years, as + innocent and true a being as God has ever set among the dangers of + this life, and, by her very innocence and unsuspecting nature, so + much more in peril before such unscrupulous wiles as were used by + Foorgat Bey. + + “I have known you many years, Nahoum, and dark and cruel as your + acts have been against the work I gave my life to do, yet I think + that there was ever in you, too, the root of goodness. Men would + call your acts treacherous if they knew what you had done; and so + indeed they were; but yet I have seen you do things to others—not + to me—which could rise only from the fountain of pure waters. Was + it partly because I killed Foorgat and partly because I came to + place and influence and power, that you used me so, and all that I + did? Or was it the East at war with the West, the immemorial feud + and foray? + + “This last I will believe; for then it will seem to be something + beyond yourself—centuries of predisposition, the long stain of the + indelible—that drove you to those acts of matricide. Ay, it is + that! For, Armenian as you are, this land is your native land, and + in pulling down what I have built up—with you, Nahoum, with you— + you have plunged the knife into the bosom of your mother. Did it + never seem to you that the work which you did with me was a good + work—the reduction of the corvee, the decrease of conscription, the + lessening of taxes of the fellah, the bridges built, the canals dug, + the seed distributed, the plague stayed, the better dwellings for + the poor in the Delta, the destruction of brigandage, the slow + blotting-out of exaction and tyranny under the kourbash, the quiet + growth of law and justice, the new industries started—did not all + these seem good to you, as you served the land with me, your great + genius for finance, ay, and your own purse, helping on the things + that were dear to me, for Egypt’s sake? Giving with one hand + freely, did your soul not misgive you when you took away with the + other? + + “When you tore down my work, you were tearing down your own; for, + more than the material help I thought you gave in planning and + shaping reforms, ay, far more than all, was the feeling in me which + helped me over many a dark place, that I had you with me, that I was + not alone. I trusted you, Nahoum. A life for a life you might have + had for the asking; but a long torture and a daily weaving of the + web of treachery—that has taken more than my life; it has taken + your own, for you have killed the best part of yourself, that which + you did with me; and here in an ever-narrowing circle of death I say + to you that you will die with me. Power you have, but it will + wither in your grasp. Kaid will turn against you; for with my + failure will come a dark reaction in his mind, which feels the cloud + of doom drawing over it. Without me, with my work falling about his + ears, he will, as he did so short a time ago, turn to Sharif and + Higli and the rest; and the only comfort you will have will be that + you destroyed the life of him who killed your brother. Did you love + your brother? Nay, not more than did I, for I sent his soul into + the void, and I would gladly have gone after it to ask God for the + pardon of all his sins—and mine. Think: I hid the truth, but why? + Because a woman would suffer an unmerited scandal and shame. + Nothing could recall Foorgat Bey; but for that silence I gave my + life, for the land which was his land. Do you betray it, then? + + “And now, Nahoum, the gulf in which you sought to plunge me when you + had ruined all I did is here before me. The long deception has + nearly done its work. I know from Ebn Ezra Bey what passed between + you. They are out against me—the slave-dealers—from Senaar to + where I am. The dominion of Egypt is over here. Yet I could + restore it with a thousand men and a handful of European officers, + had I but a show of authority from Cairo, which they think has + deserted me. + + “I am shut up here with a handful of men who can fight and thousands + who cannot fight, and food grows scarcer, and my garrison is worn + and famished; but each day I hearten them with the hope that you + will send me a thousand men from Cairo. One steamer pounding here + from the north with men who bring commands from the Effendina, and + those thousands out yonder beyond my mines and moats and guns will + begin to melt away. Nahoum, think not that you shall triumph over + David Claridge. If it be God’s will that I shall die here, my work + undone, then, smiling, I shall go with step that does not falter, to + live once more; and another day the work that I began will rise + again in spite of you or any man. + + “Nahoum, the killing of Foorgat Bey has been like a cloud upon all + my past. You know me, and you know I do not lie. Yet I do not + grieve that I hid the thing—it was not mine only; and if ever you + knew a good woman, and in dark moments have turned to her, glad that + she was yours, think what you would have done for her, how you would + have sheltered her against aught that might injure her, against + those things women are not made to bear. Then think that I hid the + deed for one who was a stranger to me, whose life must ever lay far + from mine, and see clearly that I did it for a woman’s sake, and not + for this woman’s sake; for I had never seen her till the moment I + struck Foorgat Bey into silence and the tomb. Will you not + understand, Nahoum? + + “Yonder, I see the tribes that harry me. The great guns firing make + the day a burden, the nights are ever fretted by the dangers of + surprise, and there is scarce time to bury the dead whom sickness + and the sword destroy. From the midst of it all my eyes turn to you + in Cairo, whose forgiveness I ask for the one injury I did you; + while I pray that you will seek pardon for all that you have done to + me and to those who will pass with me, if our circle is broken. + Friend, Achmet the Ropemaker is here fighting for Egypt. Art thou + less, then, than Achmet? So, God be with thee. + + “DAVID CLARIDGE.” + </pre> + <p> + Without a pause Hylda had read the letter from the first word to the last. + She was too proud to let this conspirator and traitor see what David’s + words could do to her. When she read the lines concerning herself, she + became cold from head to foot, but she knew that Nahoum never took his + eyes from her face, and she gave no outward sign of what was passing + within. When she had finished it, she folded it up calmly, her eyes dwelt + for a moment on the address upon the envelope, and then she handed it back + to Nahoum without a word. She looked him in the eyes and spoke. “He saved + your life, he gave you all you had lost. It was not his fault that Prince + Kaid chose him for his chief counsellor. You would be lying where your + brother lies, were it not for Claridge Pasha.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be; but the luck was with me; and I have my way.” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself together to say what was hard to say. “Excellency, the + man who was killed deserved to die. Only by lies, only by subterfuge, only + because I was curious to see the inside of the Palace, and because I had + known him in London, did I, without a thought of indiscretion, give myself + to his care to come here. I was so young; I did not know life, or men—or + Egyptians.” The last word was uttered with low scorn. + </p> + <p> + He glanced up quickly, and for the first time she saw a gleam of malice in + his eyes. She could not feel sorry she had said it, yet she must remove + the impression if possible. + </p> + <p> + “What Claridge Pasha did, any man would have done, Excellency. He struck, + and death was an accident. Foorgat’s temple struck the corner of a + pedestal. + </p> + <p> + “His death was instant. He would have killed Claridge Pasha if it had been + possible—he tried to do so. But, Excellency, if you have a daughter, + if you ever had a child, what would you have done if any man had—” + </p> + <p> + “In the East daughters are more discreet; they tempt men less,” he + answered quietly, and fingered the string of beads he carried. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you would have done as Claridge Pasha did. That it was your brother + was an accident, and—” + </p> + <p> + “It was an accident that the penalty must fall on Claridge Pasha, and on + you, madame. I did not choose the objects of penalty. Destiny chose them, + as Destiny chose Claridge Pasha as the man who should supplant me, who + should attempt to do these mad things for Egypt against the judgment of + the world—against the judgment of your husband. Shall I have better + judgment than the chancellories of Europe and England—and Lord + Eglington?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, you know what moves other nations; but it is for Egypt to act + for herself. You ask me why I did not go to the Effendina. I come to you + because I know that you could circumvent the Effendina, even if he sent + ten thousand men. It is the way in Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you have insight—will you not look farther still, and see + that, however good Claridge Pasha’s work might be some day in the far + future, it is not good to-day. It is too soon. At the beginning of the + twentieth century, perhaps. Men pay the penalty of their mistakes. A man’s + life”—he watched her closely with his wide, benevolent eyes—“is + neither here nor there, nor a few thousands, in the destiny of a nation. A + man who ventures into a lion’s den must not be surprised if he goes as + Harrik went—ah, perhaps you do not know how Harrik went! A man who + tears at the foundations of a house must not be surprised if the timbers + fall on him and on his workmen. It is Destiny that Claridge Pasha should + be the slayer of my brother, and a danger to Egypt, and one whose life is + so dear to you, madame. You would have it otherwise, and so would I, but + we must take things as they are—and you see that letter. It is seven + weeks since then, and it may be that the circle has been broken. Yet it + may not be so. The circle may be smaller, but not broken.” + </p> + <p> + She felt how he was tempting her from word to word with a merciless + ingenuity; yet she kept to her purpose; and however hopeless it seemed, + she would struggle on. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency,” she said in a low, pleading tone, “has he not suffered + enough? Has he not paid the price of that life which you would not bring + back if you could? No, in those places of your mind where no one can see + lies the thought that you would not bring back Foorgat Bey. It is not an + eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth that has moved you; it has not been + love of Foorgat Bey; it has been the hatred of the East for the West. And + yet you are a Christian! Has Claridge Pasha not suffered enough, + Excellency? Have you not had your fill of revenge? Have you not done + enough to hurt a man whose only crime was that he killed a man to save a + woman, and had not meant to kill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yet he says in his letter that the thought of killing would not have + stopped him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does one think at such a moment? Did he think? There was no time. It was + the work of an instant. Ah, Fate was not kind, Excellency! If it had been, + I should have been permitted to kill Foorgat Bey with my own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have found it hard to exact the penalty from you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + The words were uttered in so neutral a way that they were enigmatical, and + she could not take offence or be sure of his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Think, Excellency. Have you ever known one so selfless, so good, so true? + For humanity’s sake, would you not keep alive such a man? If there were a + feud as old as Adam between your race and his, would you not before this + life of sacrifice lay down the sword and the bitter challenge? He gave you + his hand in faith and trust, because your God was his God, your prophet + and lord his prophet and lord. Such faith should melt your heart. Can you + not see that he tried to make compensation for Foorgat’s death, by giving + you your life and setting you where you are now, with power to save or + kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “You call him great; yet I am here in safety, and he is—where he is. + Have you not heard of the strife of minds and wills? He represented the + West, I the East. He was a Christian, so was I; the ground of our battle + was a fair one, and—and I have won.” + </p> + <p> + “The ground of battle fair!” she protested bitterly. “He did not know that + there was strife between you. He did not fight you. I think that he always + loved you, Excellency. He would have given his life for you, if it had + been in danger. Is there in that letter one word that any man could wish + unwritten when the world was all ended for all men? But no, there was no + strife between you—there was only hatred on your part. He was so + much greater than you that you should feel no rivalry, no strife. The + sword he carries cuts as wide as Time. You are of a petty day in a petty + land. Your mouth will soon be filled with dust, and you will be forgotten. + He will live in the history of the world. Excellency, I plead for him + because I owe him so much: he killed a man and brought upon himself a + lifelong misery for me. It is all I can do, plead to you who know the + truth about him—yes, you know the truth—to make an effort to + save him. It may be too late; but yet God may be waiting for you to lift + your hand. You said the circle may be smaller, but it may be unbroken + still. Will you not do a great thing once, and win a woman’s gratitude, + and the thanks of the world, by trying to save one who makes us think + better of humanity? Will you not have the name of Nahoum Pasha linked with + his—with his who thought you were his friend? Will you not save + him?” + </p> + <p> + He got slowly to his feet, a strange look in his eyes. “Your words are + useless. I will not save him for your sake; I will not save him for the + world’s sake; I will not save him—” + </p> + <p> + A cry of pain and grief broke from her, and she buried her face in her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “—I will not save him for any other sake than his own.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Slowly, as dazed as though she had received a blow, Hylda + raised her face and her hands dropped in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “For any other sake than his own!” Her eyes gazed at him in a bewildered, + piteous way. What did he mean? His voice seemed to come from afar off. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think that you could save him? That I would listen to you, if I + did not listen to him? No, no, madame. Not even did he conquer me; but + something greater than himself within himself, it conquered me.” + </p> + <p> + She got to her feet gasping, her hands stretched out. “Oh, is it true—is + it true?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “The West has conquered,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You will help him—you will try to save him?” + </p> + <p> + “When, a month ago, I read the letter you have read, I tried to save him. + I sent secretly four thousand men who were at Wady Halfa to relieve him—if + it could be done; five hundred to push forward on the quickest of the + armed steamers, the rest to follow as fast as possible. I did my best. + That was a month ago, and I am waiting—waiting and hoping, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she broke down. Tears streamed from her eyes. She sank into the + chair, and sobs shook her from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Be patient, be composed, madame,” Nahoum said gently. “I have tried you + greatly—forgive me. Nay, do not weep. I have hope. We may hear from + him at any moment now,” he added softly, and there was a new look in his + wide blue eyes as they were bent on her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. IN THE LAND OF SHINAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Then I said to the angel that talked with me, Whither do these bear + the Ephah? + + “And he said unto me, To build it an house in the land of Shinar; + and it shall be established, and set there upon her own base.” + </pre> + <p> + David raised his head from the paper he was studying. He looked at Lacey + sharply. “And how many rounds of ammunition?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “How many shells?” he continued, making notes upon the paper before him. + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “How many hundredweight of dourha?” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty—about.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many mouths to feed?” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “How many fighters go with the mouths?” + </p> + <p> + “Nine hundred and eighty-of a kind.” + </p> + <p> + “And of the best?’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, say, five hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee said six hundred three days ago, Lacey.” + </p> + <p> + “Sixty were killed or wounded on Sunday, and forty I reckon in the others, + Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + The dark eyes flashed, the lips set. “The fire was sickening—they + fell back?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Saadat, they reflected—at the wrong time.” + </p> + <p> + “They ran?” + </p> + <p> + “Not back—they were slow in getting on.” + </p> + <p> + “But they fought it out?” + </p> + <p> + “They had to—root hog, or die. You see, Saadat, in that five hundred + I’m only counting the invincibles, the up-and-at-’ems, the blind-goers + that ‘d open the lid of Hell and jump in after the enemy.” + </p> + <p> + The pale face lighted. “So many! I would not have put the estimate half so + high. Not bad for a dark race fighting for they know not what!” + </p> + <p> + “They know that all right; they are fighting for you, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + David seemed not to hear. “Five hundred—so many, and the enemy so + near, the temptation so great.” + </p> + <p> + “The deserters are all gone to Ali Wad Hei, Saadat. For a month there have + been only the deserted.” + </p> + <p> + A hardness crept into the dark eyes. “Only the deserted!” He looked out to + where the Nile lost itself in the northern distance. “I asked Nahoum for + one thousand men, I asked England for the word which would send them. I + asked for a thousand, but even two hundred would turn the scale—the + sign that the Inglesi had behind him Cairo and London. Twenty weeks, and + nothing comes!” + </p> + <p> + He got to his feet slowly and walked up and down the room for a moment, + glancing out occasionally towards the clump of palms which marked the + disappearance of the Nile into the desert beyond his vision. At intervals + a cannon-shot crashed upon the rarefied air, as scores of thousands had + done for months past, torturing to ear and sense and nerve. The confused + and dulled roar of voices came from the distance also; and, looking out to + the landward side, David saw a series of movements of the besieging + forces, under the Arab leader, Ali Wad Hei. Here a loosely formed body of + lancers and light cavalry cantered away towards the south, converging upon + the Nile; there a troop of heavy cavalry in glistening mail moved nearer + to the northern defences; and between, battalions of infantry took up new + positions, while batteries of guns moved nearer to the river, curving upon + the palace north and south. Suddenly David’s eyes flashed fire. He turned + to Lacey eagerly. Lacey was watching with eyes screwed up shrewdly, his + forehead shining with sweat. + </p> + <p> + “Saadat,” he said suddenly, “this isn’t the usual set of quadrilles. It’s + the real thing. They’re watching the river—waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “But south!” was David’s laconic response. At the same moment he struck a + gong. An orderly entered. Giving swift instructions, he turned to Lacey + again. “Not Cairo—Darfur,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Ebn Ezra Bey coming! Ali Wad Hei’s got word from up the Nile, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + David nodded, and his face clouded. “We should have had word also,” he + said sharply. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door, and Mahommed Hassan entered, supporting an + Arab, down whose haggard face blood trickled from a wound in the head, + while an arm hung limp at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Behold, Saadat—from Ebn Ezra Bey,” Mahommed said. The man drooped + beside him. + </p> + <p> + David caught a tin cup from a shelf, poured some liquor into it, and held + it to the lips of the fainting man. “Drink,” he said. The Arab drank + greedily, and, when he had finished, gave a long sigh of satisfaction. + “Let him sit,” David added. + </p> + <p> + When the man was seated on a sheepskin, the huge Mahommed squatting behind + like a sentinel, David questioned him. “What is thy name—thy news?” + he asked in Arabic. + </p> + <p> + “I am called Feroog. I come from Ebn Ezra Bey, to whom be peace!” he + answered. “Thy messenger, Saadat, behold he died of hunger and thirst, and + his work became mine. Ebn Ezra Bey came by the river....” + </p> + <p> + “He is near?” asked David impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “He is twenty miles away.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou camest by the desert?” + </p> + <p> + “By the desert, Saadat, as Ebn Ezra effendi comes.” + </p> + <p> + “By the desert! But thou saidst he came by the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Saadat, yonder, forty miles from where we are, the river makes a great + curve. There the effendi landed in the night with four hundred men to + march hither. But he commanded that the boats should come on slowly and + receive the attack in the river, while he came in from the desert.” + </p> + <p> + David’s eye flashed. “A great device. They will be here by midnight, then, + perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “At midnight, Saadat, by the blessing of God.” + </p> + <p> + “How wert thou wounded?” + </p> + <p> + “I came upon two of the enemy. They were mounted. I fought them. Upon the + horse of one I came here.” + </p> + <p> + “The other?” + </p> + <p> + “God is merciful, Saadat. He is in the bosom of God.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men come by the river?” + </p> + <p> + “But fifty, Saadat,” was the answer, “but they have sworn by the stone in + the Kaabah not to surrender.” + </p> + <p> + “And those who come with the effendi, with Ebn Ezra Bey, are they as those + who will not surrender?” + </p> + <p> + “Half of them are so. They were with thee, as was I, Saadat, when the + great sickness fell upon us, and were healed by thee, and afterwards + fought with thee.” David nodded abstractedly, and motioned to Mahommed to + take the man away; then he said to Lacey: “How long do you think we can + hold out?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have more men, but also more rifles to fire, and more mouths to + fill, if Ebn Ezra gets in, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + David raised his head. “But with more rifles to fire away your ten + thousand rounds”—he tapped the paper on the table—“and eat the + eighty hundredweight of dourha, how long can we last?” + </p> + <p> + “If they are to fight, and with full stomachs, and to stake everything on + that one fight, then we can last two days. No more, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “I make it one day,” answered David. “In three days we shall have no food, + and unless help comes from Cairo, we must die or surrender. It is not well + to starve on the chance of help coming, and then die fighting with weak + arms and broken spirit. Therefore, we must fight to morrow, if Ebn Ezra + gets in to-night. I think we shall fight well,” he added. “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “You are a born fighter, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow fell on David’s face, and his lips tightened. “I was not born a + fighter, Lacey. The day we met first no man had ever died by my hand or by + my will.” + </p> + <p> + “There are three who must die at sunset—an hour from now-by thy + will, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + A startled look came into David’s face. “Who?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The Three Pashas, Saadat. They have been recaptured.” + </p> + <p> + “Recaptured!” rejoined David mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Achmet Pasha got them from under the very noses of the sheikhs before + sunrise this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Achmet—Achmet Pasha!” A light came into David’s face again. + </p> + <p> + “You will keep faith with Achmet, Saadat. He risked his life to get them. + They betrayed you, and betrayed three hundred good men to death. If they + do not die, those who fight for you will say that it doesn’t matter + whether men fight for you or betray you, they get the same stuff off the + same plate. If we are going to fight to-morrow, it ought to be with a + clean bill of health.” + </p> + <p> + “They served me well so long—ate at my table, fought with me. But—but + traitors must die, even as Harrik died.” A stern look came into his face. + He looked round the great room slowly. “We have done our best,” he said. + “I need not have failed, if there had been no treachery....” + </p> + <p> + “If it hadn’t been for Nahoum!” + </p> + <p> + David raised his head. Supreme purpose came into his bearing. A grave + smile played at his lips, as he gave that quick toss of the head which had + been a characteristic of both Eglington and himself. His eyes shone-a + steady, indomitable light. “I will not give in. I still have hope. We are + few and they are many, but the end of a battle has never been sure. We may + not fail even now. Help may come from Cairo even to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, somehow you’ve always pulled through before, Saadat. When I’ve been + most frightened I’ve perked up and stiffened my backbone, remembering your + luck. I’ve seen a blue funk evaporate by thinking of how things always + come your way just when the worst seems at the worst.” + </p> + <p> + David smiled as he caught up a small cane and prepared to go. Looking out + of a window, he stroked his thin, clean-shaven face with a lean finger. + Presently a movement in the desert arrested his attention. He put a + field-glass to his eyes, and scanned the field of operations closely once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Good-good!” he burst out cheerfully. “Achmet has done the one thing + possible. The way to the north will be still open. He has flung his men + between the Nile and the enemy, and now the batteries are at work.” + Opening the door, they passed out. “He has anticipated my orders,” he + added. “Come, Lacey, it will be an anxious night. The moon is full, and + Ebn Ezra Bey has his work cut out—sharp work for all of us, and...” + </p> + <p> + Lacey could not hear the rest of his words in the roar of the artillery. + David’s steamers in the river were pouring shot into the desert where the + enemy lay, and Achmet’s “friendlies” and the Egyptians were making good + their new position. As David and Lacey, fearlessly exposing themselves to + rifle fire, and taking the shortest and most dangerous route to where + Achmet fought, rode swiftly from the palace, Ebn Ezra’s three steamers + appeared up the river, and came slowly down to where David’s gunboats lay. + Their appearance was greeted by desperate discharges of artillery from the + forces under Ali Wad Hei, who had received word of their coming two hours + before, and had accordingly redisposed his attacking forces. But for + Achmet’s sharp initiative, the boldness of the attempt to cut off the way + north and south would have succeeded, and the circle of fire and sword + would have been complete. Achmet’s new position had not been occupied + before, for men were too few, and the position he had just left was now + exposed to attack. + </p> + <p> + Never since the siege began had the foe shown such initiative and + audacity. They had relied on the pressure of famine and decimation by + sickness, the steady effects of sorties, with consequent fatalities and + desertions, to bring the Liberator of the Slaves to his knees. Ebn Ezra + Bey had sought to keep quiet the sheikhs far south, but he had been shut + up in Darffur for months, and had been in as bad a plight as David. He + had, however, broken through at last. His ruse in leaving the steamers in + the night and marching across the desert was as courageous as it was + perilous, for, if discovered before he reached the beleaguered place, + nothing could save his little force from destruction. There was one way in + from the desert to the walled town, and it was through that space which + Achmet and his men had occupied, and on which Ali Wad Hei might now, at + any moment, throw his troops. + </p> + <p> + David’s heart sank as he saw the danger. From the palace he had sent an + orderly with a command to an officer to move forward and secure the + position, but still the gap was open, and the men he had ordered to + advance remained where they were. Every minute had its crisis. + </p> + <p> + As Lacey and himself left the town the misery of the place smote him in + the eyes. Filth, refuse, debris filled the streets. Sick and dying men + called to him from dark doorways, children and women begged for bread, + carcasses lay unburied, vultures hovering above them—his tireless + efforts had not been sufficient to cope with the daily horrors of the + siege. But there was no sign of hostility to him. Voices called blessings + on him from dark doorways, lips blanching in death commended him to Allah, + and now and then a shrill call told of a fighter who had been laid low, + but who had a spirit still unbeaten. Old men and women stood over their + cooking-pots waiting for the moment of sunset; for it was Ramadan, and the + faithful fasted during the day—as though every day was not a fast. + </p> + <p> + Sunset was almost come, as David left the city and galloped away to send + forces to stop the gap of danger before it was filled by the foe. Sunset—the + Three Pashas were to die at sunset! They were with Achmet, and in a few + moments they would be dead. As David and Lacey rode hard, they suddenly + saw a movement of men on foot at a distant point of the field, and then a + small mounted troop, fifty at most, detach themselves from the larger + force and, in close formation, gallop fiercely down on the position which + Achmet had left. David felt a shiver of anxiety and apprehension as he saw + this sharp, sweeping advance. Even fifty men, well intrenched, could hold + the position until the main body of Ali Wad Hei’s infantry came on. + </p> + <p> + They rode hard, but harder still rode Ali Wad Hei’s troop of daring Arabs. + Nearer and nearer they came. Suddenly from the trenches, which they had + thought deserted, David saw jets of smoke rise, and a half-dozen of the + advancing troop fell from their saddles, their riderless horses galloping + on. + </p> + <p> + David’s heart leaped: Achmet had, then, left men behind, hidden from view; + and these were now defending the position. Again came the jets of smoke, + and again more Arabs dropped from their saddles. But the others still came + on. A thousand feet away others fell. Twenty-two of the fifty had already + gone. The rest fired their rifles as they galloped. But now, to David’s + relief, his own forces, which should have moved half an hour before, were + coming swiftly down to cut off the approach of Ali Wad Hei’s infantry, and + he turned his horse upon the position where a handful of men were still + emptying the saddles of the impetuous enemy. But now all that were left of + the fifty were upon the trenches. Then came the flash of swords, puffs of + smoke, the thrust of lances, and figures falling from the screaming, + rearing horses. + </p> + <p> + Lacey’s pistol was in his hand, David’s sword was gripped tight, as they + rushed upon the melee. Lacey’s pistol snapped, and an Arab fell; again, + and another swayed in his saddle. David’s sword swept down, and a turbaned + head was gashed by a mortal stroke. As he swung towards another horseman, + who had struck down a defender of the trenches, an Arab raised himself in + his saddle and flung a lance with a cry of terrible malice; but, even as + he did so, a bullet from Lacey’s pistol pierced his shoulder. The shot had + been too late to stop the lance, but sufficient to divert its course. It + caught David in the flesh of the body under the arm—a slight wound + only. A few inches to the right, however, and his day would have been + done. + </p> + <p> + The remaining Arabs turned and fled. The fight was over. As David, + dismounting, stood with dripping sword in his hand, in imagination, he + heard the voice of Kaid say to him, as it said that night when he killed + Foorgat Bey: “Hast thou never killed a man?” + </p> + <p> + For an instant it blinded him, then he was conscious that, on the ground + at his feet, lay one of the Three Pashas who were to die at sunset. It was + sunset now, and the man was dead. Another of the Three sat upon the ground + winding his thigh with the folds of a dead Arab’s turban, blood streaming + from his gashed face. The last of the trio stood before David, stoical and + attentive. For a moment David looked at the Three, the dead man and the + two living men, and then suddenly turned to where the opposing forces were + advancing. His own men were now between the position and Ali Wad Hei’s + shouting fanatics. They would be able to reach and defend the post in + time. He turned and gave orders. There were only twenty men besides the + two pashas, whom his commands also comprised. Two small guns were in + place. He had them trained on that portion of the advancing infantry of + Ali Wad Hei not yet covered by his own forces. Years of work and + responsibility had made him master of many things, and long ago he had + learned the work of an artilleryman. In a moment a shot, well directed, + made a gap in the ranks of the advancing foe. An instant afterwards a shot + from the other gun fired by the unwounded pasha, who, in his youth, had + been an officer of artillery, added to the confusion in the swerving + ranks, and the force hesitated; and now from Ebn Ezra Bey’s river + steamers, which had just arrived, there came a flank fire. The force + wavered. From David’s gun another shot made havoc. They turned and fell + back quickly. The situation was saved. + </p> + <p> + As if by magic the attack of the enemy all over the field ceased. By + sunset they had meant to finish this enterprise, which was to put the + besieged wholly in their hands, and then to feast after the day’s fasting. + Sunset had come, and they had been foiled; but hunger demanded the feast. + The order to cease firing and retreat sounded, and three thousand men + hurried back to the cooking-pot, the sack of dourha, and the prayer mat. + Malaish, if the infidel Inglesi was not conquered to-day, he should be + beaten and captured and should die to-morrow! And yet there were those + among them who had a well-grounded apprehension that the “Inglesi” would + win in the end. + </p> + <p> + By the trenches, where five men had died so bravely, and a traitorous + pasha had paid the full penalty of a crime and won a soldier’s death, + David spoke to his living comrades. As he prepared to return to the city, + he said to the unwounded pasha: “Thou wert to die at sunset; it was thy + sentence.” + </p> + <p> + And the pasha answered: “Saadat, as for death—I am ready to die, but + have I not fought for thee?” David turned to the wounded pasha. + </p> + <p> + “Why did Achmet Pasha spare thee?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not spare us, Saadat. Those who fought with us but now were to + shoot us at sunset, and remain here till other troops came. Before sunset + we saw the danger, since no help came. Therefore we fought to save this + place for thee.” + </p> + <p> + David looked them in the eyes. “Ye were traitors,” he said, “and for an + example it was meet that ye should die. But this that ye have done shall + be told to all who fight to-morrow, and men will know why it is I pardon + treachery. Ye shall fight again, if need be, betwixt this hour and + morning, and ye shall die, if need be. Ye are willing?” + </p> + <p> + Both men touched their foreheads, their lips, and their breasts. “Whether + it be death or it be life, Inshallah, we are true to thee, Saadat!” one + said, and the other repeated the words after him. As they salaamed David + left them, and rode forward to the advancing forces. + </p> + <p> + Upon the roof of the palace Mahommed Hassan watched and waited, his eyes + scanning sharply the desert to the south, his ears strained to catch that + stir of life which his accustomed ears had so often detected in the + desert, when no footsteps, marching, or noises could be heard. Below, now + in the palace, now in the defences, his master, the Saadat, planned for + the last day’s effort on the morrow, gave directions to the officers, sent + commands to Achmet Pasha, arranged for the disposition of his forces, with + as strange a band of adherents and subordinates as ever men had—adventurers, + to whom adventure in their own land had brought no profit; members of that + legion of the non-reputable, to whom Cairo offered no home; Levantines, + who had fled from that underground world where every coin of reputation is + falsely minted, refugees from the storm of the world’s disapproval. There + were Greeks with Austrian names; Armenians, speaking Italian as their + native tongue; Italians of astonishing military skill, whose services were + no longer required by their offended country; French Pizarros with a + romantic outlook, even in misery, intent to find new El Dorados; + Englishmen, who had cheated at cards and had left the Horse Guards for + ever behind; Egyptian intriguers, who had been banished for being less + successful than greater intriguers; but also a band of good gallant men of + every nation. + </p> + <p> + Upon all these, during the siege, Mahommed Hassan had been a + self-appointed spy, and had indirectly added to that knowledge which made + David’s decisive actions to circumvent intrigue and its consequences seem + almost supernatural. In his way Mahommed was a great man. He knew that + David would endure no spying, and it was creditable to his subtlety and + skill that he was able to warn his master, without being himself suspected + of getting information by dark means. On the palace roof Mahommed was + happy to-night. Tomorrow would be a great day, and, since the Saadat was + to control its destiny, what other end could there be but happiness? Had + not the Saadat always ridden over all that had been in his way? Had not + he, Mahommed, ever had plenty to eat and drink, and money to send to + Manfaloot to his father there, and to bribe when bribing was needed? + Truly, life was a boon! With a neboot of dom-wood across his knees he sat + in the still, moonlit night, peering into that distance whence Ebn Ezra + Bey and his men must come, the moon above tranquil and pleasant and + alluring, and the desert beneath, covered as it was with the outrages and + terrors of war, breathing softly its ancient music, that delicate vibrant + humming of the latent activities. In his uncivilised soul Mahommed Hassan + felt this murmur, and even as he sat waiting to know whether a little army + would steal out of the south like phantoms into this circle the Saadat had + drawn round him, he kept humming to himself—had he not been, was he + not now, an Apollo to numberless houris who had looked down at him from + behind mooshrabieh screens, or waited for him in the palm-grove or the + cane-field? The words of his song were not uttered aloud, but yet he sang + them silently— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Every night long and all night my spirit is moaning and crying + O dear gazelle, that has taken away my peace! + Ah! if my beloved come not, my eyes will be blinded with weeping + Moon of my joy, come to me, hark to the call of my soul!” + </pre> + <p> + Over and over he kept chanting the song. Suddenly, however, he leaned + farther forward and strained his ears. Yes, at last, away to the + south-east, there was life stirring, men moving—moving quickly. He + got to his feet slowly, still listening, stood for a moment motionless, + then, with a cry of satisfaction, dimly saw a moving mass in the white + moonlight far over by the river. Ebn Ezra Bey and his men were coming. He + started below, and met David on the way up. He waited till David had + mounted the roof, then he pointed. “Now, Saadat!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “They have stolen in?” David peered into the misty whiteness. + </p> + <p> + “They are almost in, Saadat. Nothing can stop them now.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well done. Go and ask Ebn Ezra effendi to come hither,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a shot was fired, then a hoarse shout came over the desert, then + there was silence again. + </p> + <p> + “They are in, Saadat,” said Mahommed Hassan. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ....................... +</pre> + <p> + Day broke over a hazy plain. On both sides of the Nile the river mist + spread wide, and the army of Ali Wad Hei and the defending forces were + alike veiled from each other and from the desert world beyond. Down the + river for scores of miles the mist was heavy, and those who moved within + it and on the waters of the Nile could not see fifty feet ahead. Yet + through this heavy veil there broke gently a little fleet of phantom + vessels, the noise of the paddle-wheels and their propellers muffled as + they moved slowly on. Never had vessels taken such risks on the Nile + before, never had pilots trusted so to instinct, for there were sand-banks + and ugly drifts of rock here and there. A safe journey for phantom ships; + but these armed vessels, filled by men with white, eager faces and others + with dark Egyptian features, were no phantoms. They bristled with weapons, + and armed men crowded every corner of space. For full two hours from the + first streak of light they had travelled swiftly, taking chances not to be + taken save in some desperate moment. The moment was desperate enough, if + not for them. They were going to the relief of besieged men, with a + message from Nahoum Pasha to Claridge Pasha, and with succour. They had + looked for a struggle up this river as they neared the beleaguered city; + but, as they came nearer and nearer, not a gun fired at them from the + forts on the banks out of the mists. If they were heard they still were + safe from the guns, for they could not be seen, and those on shore could + not know whether they were friend or foe. Like ghostly vessels they passed + on, until at last they could hear the stir and murmur of life along the + banks of the stream. + </p> + <p> + Boom! boom! boom! Through the mist the guns of the city were pouring shot + and shell out into Ali Wad Hei’s camp, and Ali Wad Hei laughed + contemptuously. Surely now the Inglesi was altogether mad, and to-day, + this day after prayers at noon, he should be shot like a mad dog, for + yesterday’s defeat had turned some of his own adherent sheikhs into angry + critics. He would not wait for starvation to compel the infidel to + surrender. He would win freedom to deal in human flesh and blood, and make + slave-markets where he willed, and win glory for the Lord Mahomet, by + putting this place to the sword; and, when it was over, he would have the + Inglesi’s head carried on a pole through the city for the faithful to mock + at, a target for the filth of the streets. So, by the will of Allah, it + should be done! + </p> + <p> + Boom! boom! boom! The Inglesi was certainly mad, for never had there been + so much firing in any long day in all the siege as in this brief hour this + morning. It was the act of a fool, to fire his shot and shell into the + mist without aim, without a clear target. Ali Wad Hei scorned to make any + reply with his guns, but sat in desultory counsel with his sheikhs, + planning what should be done when the mists had cleared away. But + yesterday evening the Arab chief had offered to give the Inglesi life if + he would surrender and become a Muslim, and swear by the Lord Mahomet; but + late in the night he had received a reply which left only one choice, and + that was to disembowel the infidel, and carry his head aloft on a spear. + The letter he had received ran thus in Arabic: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To Ali Wad Hei and All with Him: + + “We are here to live or to die as God wills, and not as ye will. I + have set my feet on the rock, and not by threats of any man shall I + be moved. But I say that for all the blood that ye have shed here + there will be punishment, and for the slaves which ye have slain or + sold there will be high price paid. Ye have threatened the city and + me—take us if ye can. Ye are seven to one. Why falter all these + months? If ye will not come to us, we shall come to you, rebellious + ones, who have drawn the sword against your lawful ruler, the + Effendina. + + “CLARIDGE PASHA” + </pre> + <p> + It was a rhetorical document couched in the phraseology they best + understood; and if it begat derision, it also begat anger; and the + challenge David had delivered would be met when the mists had lifted from + the river and the plain. But when the first thinning of the mists began, + when the sun began to dissipate the rolling haze, Ali Wad Hei and his + rebel sheikhs were suddenly startled by rifle-fire at close quarters, by + confused noises, and the jar and roar of battle. Now the reason for the + firing of the great guns was plain. The noise was meant to cover the + advance of David’s men. The little garrison, which had done no more than + issue in sorties, was now throwing its full force on the enemy in a last + desperate endeavour. It was either success or absolute destruction. David + was staking all, with the last of his food, the last of his ammunition, + the last of his hopes. All round the field the movement was forward, till + the circle had widened to the enemy’s lines; while at the old defences + were only handfuls of men. With scarce a cry David’s men fell on the + unprepared foe; and he himself, on a grey Arab, a mark for any lance or + spear and rifle, rode upon that point where Ali Wad Hei’s tent was set. + </p> + <p> + But after the first onset, in which hundreds were killed, there began the + real noise of battle—fierce shouting, the shrill cries of wounded + and maddened horses as they struck with their feet, and bit as fiercely at + the fighting foe as did their masters. The mist cleared slowly, and, when + it had wholly lifted, the fight was spread over every part of the field of + siege. Ali Wad Hei’s men had gathered themselves together after the first + deadly onslaught, and were fighting fiercely, shouting the Muslim + battle-cry, “Allah hu achbar!” Able to bring up reinforcements, the great + losses at first sustained were soon made up, and the sheer weight of + numbers gave them courage and advantage. By rushes with lance and sword + and rifle they were able, at last, to drive David’s men back upon their + old defences with loss. Then charge upon charge ensued, and each charge, + if it cost them much, cost the besieged more, by reason of their fewer + numbers. At one point, however, the besieged became again the attacking + party. This was where Achmet Pasha had command. His men on one side of the + circle, as Ebn Ezra Bey’s men on the other, fought with a valour as + desperate as the desert ever saw. But David, galloping here and there to + order, to encourage, to prevent retreat at one point, or to urge attack at + another, saw that the doom of his gallant force was certain; for the enemy + were still four to one, in spite of the carnage of the first attack. + Bullets hissed past him. One carried away a button, one caught the tip of + his ear, one pierced the fez he wore; but he felt nothing of this, saw + nothing. He was buried in the storm of battle preparing for the end, for + the final grim defence, when his men would retreat upon the one last + strong fort, and there await their fate. From this absorption he was + roused by Lacey, who came galloping towards him. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve come, Saadat, they’ve come at last! We’re saved—oh, my God, + you bet we’re all right now! See! See, Saadat!” + </p> + <p> + David saw. Five steamers carrying the Egyptian flag were bearing around + the point where the river curved below the town, and converging upon + David’s small fleet. Presently the steamers opened fire, to encourage the + besieged, who replied with frenzied shouts of joy, and soon there poured + upon the sands hundreds of men in the uniform of the Effendina. These came + forward at the double, and, with a courage which nothing could withstand, + the whole circle spread out again upon the discomfited tribes of Ali Wad + Hei. Dismay, confusion, possessed the Arabs. Their river-watchers had + failed them, God had hidden His face from them; and when Ali Wad Hei and + three of his emirs turned and rode into the desert, their forces broke and + ran also, pursued by the relentless men who had suffered the tortures of + siege so long. The chase was short, however, for they were desert folk, + and they returned to loot the camp which had menaced them so long. + </p> + <p> + Only the new-comers, Nahoum’s men, carried the hunt far; and they brought + back with them a body which their leader commanded to be brought to a + great room of the palace. Towards sunset David and Ebn Ezra Bey and Lacey + came together to this room. The folds of loose linen were lifted from the + face, and all three looked at it long in silence. At last Lacey spoke: + </p> + <p> + “He got what he wanted; the luck was with him. It’s better than + Leperland.” + </p> + <p> + “In the bosom of Allah there is peace,” said Ebn Ezra. “It is well with + Achmet.” + </p> + <p> + With misty eyes David stooped and took the dead man’s hand in his for a + moment. Then he rose to his feet and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “And Nahoum also—and Nahoum,” he said presently. “Read this,” he + added, and put a letter from Nahoum into Ebn Ezra’s hand. + </p> + <p> + Lacey reverently covered Achmet’s face. “Say, he got what he wanted,” he + said again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. THE LOOM OF DESTINY + </h2> + <p> + It was many a day since the Duchess of Snowdon had seen a sunrise, and the + one on which she now gazed from the deck of the dahabieh Nefert, filled + her with a strange new sense of discovery and revelation. Her perceptions + were arrested and a little confused, and yet the undercurrent of feeling + was one of delight and rejuvenation. Why did this sunrise bring back, all + at once, the day when her one lost child was born, and she looked out of + the windows of Snowdon Hall, as she lay still and nerveless, and thought + how wonderful and sweet and green was the world she saw and the sky that + walled it round? Sunrise over the Greek Temple of Philae and the splendid + ruins of a farther time towering beside it! In her sight were the wide, + islanded Nile, where Cleopatra loitered with Antony, the foaming, crashing + cataracts above, the great quarries from which ancient temples had been + hewed, unfinished obelisks and vast blocks of stone left where bygone + workmen had forsaken them, when the invader came and another dynasty + disappeared into that partial oblivion from which the Egyptian still + emerges triumphant over all his conquerors, unchanged in form and feature. + Something of its meaning got into her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what Windlehurst would think of it. He always had an eye for + things like that,” she murmured; and then caught her breath, as she added: + “He always liked beauty.” She looked at her wrinkled, childish hands. “But + sunsets never grow old,” she continued, with no apparent relevance. “La, + la, we were young once!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were lost again in the pinkish glow spreading over the grey-brown + sand of the desert, over the palm-covered island near. “And now it’s + others’ turn, or ought to be,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + She looked to where, not far away, Hylda stood leaning over the railing of + the dahabieh, her eyes fixed in reverie on the farthest horizon line of + the unpeopled, untravelled plain of sand. + </p> + <p> + “No, poor thing, it’s not her turn,” she added, as Hylda, with a long + sigh, turned and went below. Tears gathered in her pale blue eyes. “Not + yet—with Eglington alive. And perhaps it would be best if the other + never came back. I could have made the world better worth living in if I + had had the chance—and I wouldn’t have been a duchess! La! La!” + </p> + <p> + She relapsed into reverie, an uncommon experience for her; and her mind + floated indefinitely from one thing to another, while she was half + conscious of the smell of coffee permeating the air, and of the low + resonant notes of the Nubian boys, as, with locked shoulders, they + scrubbed the decks of a dahabieh near by with hempshod feet. + </p> + <p> + Presently, however, she was conscious of another sound—the soft clip + of oars, joined to the guttural, explosive song of native rowers; and, + leaning over the rail, she saw a boat draw alongside the Nefert. From it + came the figure of Nahoum Pasha, who stepped briskly on deck, in his + handsome face a light which flashed an instant meaning to her. + </p> + <p> + “I know—I know! Claridge Pasha—you have heard?” she said + excitedly, as he came to her. + </p> + <p> + He smiled and nodded. “A messenger has arrived. Within a few hours he + should be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was all false that he was wounded—ah, that horrible story + of his death!” + </p> + <p> + “Bismillah, it was not all false! The night before the great battle he was + slightly wounded in the side. He neglected it, and fever came on; but he + survived. His first messengers to us were killed, and that is why the news + of the relief came so late. But all is well at last. I have come to say so + to Lady Eglington—even before I went to the Effendina.” He made a + gesture towards a huge and gaily-caparisoned dahabieh not far away. “Kaid + was right about coming here. His health is better. He never doubted + Claridge Pasha’s return; it was une idee fixe. He believes a magic hand + protects the Saadat, and that, adhering to him, he himself will carry high + the flower of good fortune and live for ever. Kismet! I will not wait to + see Lady Eglington. I beg to offer to her my congratulations on the + triumph of her countryman.” + </p> + <p> + His words had no ulterior note; but there was a shadow in his eyes which + in one not an Oriental would have seemed sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Pasha, Pasha!” the Duchess called after him, as he turned to leave; “tell + me, is there any news from England—from the Government?” + </p> + <p> + “From Lord Eglington? No,” Nahoum answered meaningly. “I wrote to him. Did + the English Government desire to send a message to Claridge Pasha, if the + relief was accomplished? That is what I asked. But there is no word. + Malaish, Egypt will welcome him!” + </p> + <p> + She followed his eyes. Two score of dahabiehs lay along the banks of the + Nile, and on the shore were encampments of soldiers, while flags were + flying everywhere. Egypt had followed the lead of the Effendina. Claridge + Pasha’s star was in its zenith. + </p> + <p> + As Nahoum’s boat was rowed away, Hylda came on deck again, and the Duchess + hastened to her. Hylda caught the look in her face. “What has happened? Is + there news? Who has been here?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess took her hands. “Nahoum has gone to tell Prince Kaid. He came + to you with the good news first,” she said with a flutter. + </p> + <p> + She felt Hylda’s hands turn cold. A kind of mist filled the dark eyes, and + the slim, beautiful figure swayed slightly. An instant only, and then the + lips smiled, and Hylda said in a quavering voice: “They will be so glad in + England.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my darling, that is what Nahoum said.” She gave Nahoum’s + message to her. “Now they’ll make him a peer, I suppose, after having + deserted him. So English!” + </p> + <p> + She did not understand why Hylda’s hands trembled so, why so strange a + look came into her face, but, in an instant, the rare and appealing eyes + shone again with a light of agitated joy, and suddenly Hylda leaned over + and kissed her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Smell the coffee,” she said with assumed gaiety. “Doesn’t fair-and-sixty + want her breakfast? Sunrise is a splendid tonic.” She laughed feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “My darling, I hadn’t seen the sun rise in thirty years, not since the + night I first met Windlehurst at a Foreign Office ball.” + </p> + <p> + “You have always been great friends?” Hylda stole a look at her. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the queer part of it; I was so stupid, and he so clever. But + Windlehurst has a way of letting himself down to your level. He always + called me Betty after my boy died, just as if I was his equal. La, la, but + I was proud when he first called me that—the Prime Minister of + England. I’m going to watch the sun rise again to-morrow, my darling. I + didn’t know it was so beautiful, and gave one such an appetite.” She broke + a piece of bread, and, not waiting to butter it, almost stuffed it into + her mouth. + </p> + <p> + Hylda leaned over and pressed her arm. “What a good mother Betty it is!” + she said tenderly. + </p> + <p> + Presently they were startled by the shrill screaming of a steamer whistle, + followed by the churning of the paddles, as she drove past and drew to the + bank near them. + </p> + <p> + “It is a steamer from Cairo, with letters, no doubt,” said Hylda; and the + Duchess nodded assent, and covertly noted her look, for she knew that no + letters had arrived from Eglington since Hylda had left England. + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later, as the Duchess sat on deck, a great straw hat tied + under her chin with pale-blue ribbons, like a child of twelve, she was + startled by seeing the figure of a farmer-looking person with a shock of + grey-red hair, a red face, and with great blue eyes, appear before her in + the charge of Hylda’s dragoman. + </p> + <p> + “This has come to speak with my lady,” the dragoman said, “but my lady is + riding into the desert there.” He pointed to the sands. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess motioned the dragoman away, and scanned the face of the + new-comer shrewdly. Where had she seen this strange-looking English + peasant, with the rolling walk of a sailor? + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, and where do you come from?” she asked, not without + anxiety, for there was something ominous and suggestive in the old man’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “I come from Hamley, in England, and my name is Soolsby, your grace. I + come to see my Lady Eglington.” + </p> + <p> + Now she remembered him. She had seen him in Hamley more than once. + </p> + <p> + “You have come far; have you important news for her ladyship? Is there + anything wrong?” she asked with apparent composure, but with heavy + premonition. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, news that counts, I bring,” answered Soolsby, “or I hadn’t come this + long way. ‘Tis a long way at sixty-five.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, at our age it is a long way,” rejoined the Duchess in a + friendly voice, suddenly waving away the intervening air of class, for she + was half a peasant at heart. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and we both come for the same end, I suppose,” Soolsby added; “and a + costly business it is. But what matters, so be that you help her ladyship + and I help Our Man.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is ‘Our Man’?” was the rejoinder. “Him that’s coming safe here + from the South—David Claridge,” he answered. “Ay, ‘twas the first + thing I heard when I landed here, me that he come all these thousand miles + to see him, if so be he was alive.” Just then he caught sight of Kate + Heaver climbing the stair to the deck where they were. His face flushed; + he hurried forward and gripped her by the arm, as her feet touched the + upper deck. “Kate-ay, ‘tis Kate!” he cried. Then he let go her arm and + caught a hand in both of his and fondled it. “Ay, ay, ‘tis Kate!” “What is + it brings you, Soolsby?” Kate asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis not Jasper, and ‘tis not the drink-ay, I’ve been sober since, ever + since, Kate, lass,” he answered stoutly. “Quick, quick, tell me what it + is!” she said, frowning. “You’ve not come here for naught, Soolsby.” + </p> + <p> + Still holding her hand, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. For an + instant she stood as though transfixed, and then, with a curious muffled + cry, broke away from him and turned to go below. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your mouth shut, lass, till proper time,” he called after her, as + she descended the steps hastily again. Then he came slowly back to the + Duchess. + </p> + <p> + He looked her in the face—he was so little like a peasant, so much + more like a sailor here with his feet on the deck of a floating thing. + “Your grace is a good friend to her ladyship,” he said at last + deliberately, “and ‘tis well that you tell her ladyship. As good a friend + to her you’ve been, I doubt not, as that I’ve been to him that’s coming + from beyond and away.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, man, go on. I want to know what startled Heaver yonder, what you + have come to say.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, your grace. One doesn’t keep good news waiting, and ‘tis + not good news for her ladyship I bring, even if it be for Claridge Pasha, + for there was no love lost ‘twixt him and second-best lordship that’s + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, man, speak it out, and no more riddles,” she interrupted sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Then, he that was my Lord Eglington is gone foreign—he is dead,” he + said slowly. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess fell back in her chair. For an instant the desert, the + temples, the palms, the Nile waters faded, and she was in some middle + world, in which Soolsby’s voice seemed coming muffled and deep across a + dark flood; then she recovered herself, and gave a little cry, not unlike + that which Kate gave a few moments before, partly of pain, partly of + relief. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, he’s dead and buried, too, and in the Quaker churchyard. Miss + Claridge would have it so. And none in Hamley said nay, not one.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess murmured to herself. Eglington was dead—Eglington was + dead—Eglington was dead! And David Claridge was coming out of the + desert, was coming to-day-now! + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen?” she asked, faintly, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Things went wrong wi’ him—bad wrong in Parliament and everywhere, + and he didn’t take it well. He stood the world off like-ay, he had no + temper for black days. He shut himself up at Hamley in his chemical place, + like his father, like his father before him. When the week-end came, there + he was all day and night among his bottles and jars and wires. He was + after summat big in experiment for explosives, so the papers said, and so + he said himself before he died, to Miss Claridge—ay, ‘twas her he + deceived and treated cruel, that come to him when he was shattered by his + experimenting. No patience, he had at last—and reckless in his + chemical place, and didn’t realise what his hands was doing. ‘Twas so he + told her, that forgave him all his deceit, and held him in her arms when + he died. Not many words he had to speak; but he did say that he had never + done any good to any one—ay, I was standing near behind his bed and + heard all, for I was thinking of her alone with him, and so I would be + with her, and she would have it so. Ay, and he said that he had misused + cruel her that had loved him, her ladyship, that’s here. He said he had + misused her because he had never loved her truly, only pride and vainglory + being in his heart. Then he spoke summat to her that was there to forgive + him and help him over the stile ‘twixt this field and it that’s Beyond and + Away, which made her cry out in pain and say that he must fix his thoughts + on other things. And she prayed out loud for him, for he would have no + parson there. She prayed and prayed as never priest or parson prayed, and + at last he got quiet and still, and, when she stopped praying, he did not + speak or open his eyes for a longish while. But when the old clock on the + stable was striking twelve, he opened his eyes wide, and when it had + stopped, he said: ‘It is always twelve by the clock that stops at noon. + I’ve done no good. I’ve earned my end.’ He looked as though he was waiting + for the clock to go on striking, half raising himself up in bed, with Miss + Faith’s arm under his head. He whispered to her then—he couldn’t + speak by this time. ‘It’s twelve o’clock,’ he said. Then there came some + words I’ve heard the priest say at Mass, ‘Vanitas, Vanitatum,’—that + was what he said. And her he’d lied to, there with him, laying his head + down on the pillow, as if he was her child going to sleep. So, too, she + had him buried by her father, in the Quaker burying-ground—ay, she + is a saint on earth, I warrant.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment after he had stopped the Duchess did not speak, but kept + untying and tying the blue ribbons under her chin, her faded eyes still + fastened on him, burning with the flame of an emotion which made them dark + and young again. + </p> + <p> + “So, it’s all over,” she said, as though to herself. “They were all alike, + from old Broadbrim, the grandfather, down to this one, and back to William + the Conqueror.” + </p> + <p> + “Like as peas in a pod,” exclaimed Soolsby—“all but one, all but + one, and never satisfied with what was in their own garden, but peeking, + peeking beyond the hedge, and climbing and getting a fall. That’s what + they’ve always been evermore.” + </p> + <p> + His words aroused the Duchess, and the air became a little colder about + her-after all, the division between the classes and the masses must be + kept, and the Eglingtons were no upstarts. “You will say nothing about + this till I give you leave to speak,” she commanded. “I must tell her + ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby drew himself up a little, nettled at her tone. “It is your grace’s + place to tell her ladyship,” he responded; “but I’ve taken ten years’ + savings to come to Egypt, and not to do any one harm, but good, if so be I + might.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess relented at once. She got to her feet as quickly as she could, + and held out her hand to him. “You are a good man, and a friend worth + having, I know, and I shall like you to be my friend, Mr. Soolsby,” she + said impulsively. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand and shook it awkwardly, his lips working. “Your grace, I + understand. I’ve got naught to live for except my friends. Money’s naught, + naught’s naught, if there isn’t a friend to feel a crunch at his heart + when summat bad happens to you. I’d take my affydavy that there’s no + better friend in the world than your grace.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him. “And so we are friends, aren’t we? And I am to tell her + ladyship, and you are to say ‘naught.’ + </p> + <p> + “But to the Egyptian, to him, your grace, it is my place to speak—to + Claridge Pasha, when he comes.” The Duchess looked at him quizzically. + “How does Lord Eglington’s death concern Claridge Pasha?” she asked rather + anxiously. Had there been gossip about Hylda? Had the public got a hint of + the true story of her flight, in spite of all Windlehurst had done? Was + Hylda’s name smirched, now, when all would be set right? Had everything + come too late, as it were? + </p> + <p> + “There’s two ways that his lordship’s death concerns Claridge Pasha,” + answered Soolsby shrewdly, for though he guessed the truth concerning + Hylda and David, his was not a leaking tongue. “There’s two ways it + touches him. There’ll be a new man in the Foreign Office—Lord + Eglington was always against Claridge Pasha; and there’s matters of land + betwixt the two estates—matters of land that’s got to be settled + now,” he continued, with determined and successful evasion. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess was deceived. “But you will not tell Claridge Pasha until I + have told her ladyship and I give you leave? Promise that,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + “I will not tell him until then,” he answered. “Look, look, your grace,” + he added, suddenly pointing towards the southern horizon, “there he comes! + Ay, ‘tis Our Man, I doubt not—Our Man evermore!” + </p> + <p> + Miles away there appeared on the horizon a dozen camels being ridden + towards Assouan. + </p> + <p> + “Our Man evermore,” repeated the Duchess, with a trembling smile. “Yes, it + is surely he. See, the soldiers are moving. They’re going to ride out to + meet him.” She made a gesture towards the far shore where Kaid’s men were + saddling their horses, and to Nahoum’s and Kaid’s dahabiehs, where there + was a great stir. + </p> + <p> + “There’s one from Hamley will meet them first,” Soolsby said, and pointed + to where Hylda, in the desert, was riding towards the camels coming out of + the south. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess threw up her hands. “Dear me, dear me,” she said in distress, + “if she only knew!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s thousands of women that’d ride out mad to meet him,” said Soolsby + carefully; “women that likes to see an Englishman that’s done his duty—ay, + women and men, that’d ride hard to welcome him back from the grave. Her + ladyship’s as good a patriot as any,” he added, watching the Duchess out + of the corners of his eyes, his face turned to the desert. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess looked at him quizzically, and was satisfied with her + scrutiny. “You’re a man of sense,” she replied brusquely, and gathered up + her skirts. “Find me a horse or a donkey, and I’ll go too,” she added + whimsically. “Patriotism is such a nice sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + For David and Lacey the morning had broken upon a new earth. Whatever of + toil and tribulation the future held in store, this day marked a step + forward in the work to which David had set his life. A way had been cloven + through the bloody palisades of barbarism, and though the dark races might + seek to hold back the forces which drain the fens, and build the bridges, + and make the desert blossom as the rose, which give liberty and preserve + life, the good end was sure and near, whatever of rebellion and disorder + and treachery intervened. This was the larger, graver issue; but they felt + a spring in the blood, and their hearts were leaping, because of the + thought that soon they would clasp hands again with all from which they + had been exiled. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Saadat, think of it: a bed with four feet, and linen sheets, and + sleeping till any time in the morning, and, If you please, sir, + breakfast’s on the table.’ Say, it’s great, and we’re in it!” + </p> + <p> + David smiled. “Thee did very well, friend, without such luxuries. Thee is + not skin and bone.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey mopped his forehead. “Well, I’ve put on a layer or two since the + relief. It’s being scared that takes the flesh off me. I never was + intended for the ‘stricken field.’ Poetry and the hearth-stone was my real + vocation—and a bit of silver mining to blow off steam with,” he + added with a chuckle. + </p> + <p> + David laughed and tapped his arm. “That is an old story now, thy + cowardice. Thee should be more original. + </p> + <p> + “It’s worth not being original, Saadat, to hear you thee and thou me as + you used to do. It’s like old times—the oldest, first times. You’ve + changed a lot, Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in anything that matters, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in anything that matters to any one that matters. To me it’s the same + as it ever was, only more so. It isn’t that, for you are you. But you’ve + had disappointment, trouble, hard nuts to crack, and all you could do to + escape the rocks being rolled down the Egyptian hill onto you; and it’s + left its mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I grown so different?” + </p> + <p> + Lacey’s face shone under the look that was turned towards him. “Say, + Saadat, you’re the same old red sandstone; but I missed the thee and thou. + I sort of hankered after it; it gets me where I’m at home with myself.” + </p> + <p> + David laughed drily. “Well, perhaps I’ve missed something in you. Thee + never says now—not since thee went south a year ago, ‘Well, give my + love to the girls.’ Something has left its mark, friend,” he added + teasingly; for his spirits were boyish to-day; he was living in the + present. There had gone from his eyes and from the lines of his figure the + melancholy which Hylda had remarked when he was in England. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, I never noticed,” rejoined Lacey. “That’s got me. Looks as if + I wasn’t as friendly as I used to be, doesn’t it? But I am—I am, + Saadat.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that the widow in Cairo, perhaps—” Lacey chuckled. “Say, + perhaps it was—cute as she can be, maybe, wouldn’t like it, might be + prejudiced.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly David turned sharply to Lacey. “Thee spoke of silver mining just + now. I owe thee something like two hundred thousand pounds, I think—Egypt + and I.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey winked whimsically at himself under the rim of his helmet. “Are you + drawing back from those concessions, Saadat?” he asked with apparent + ruefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Drawing back? No! But does thee think they are worth—” + </p> + <p> + Lacey assumed an injured air. “If a man that’s made as much money as me + can’t be trusted to look after a business proposition—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Saadat, I don’t want you to think I’ve taken a mean advantage of + you; and if—” + </p> + <p> + David hastened to put the matter right. “No, no; thee must be the judge!” + He smiled sceptically. “In any case, thee has done a good deed in a great + way, and it will do thee no harm in the end. In one way the investment + will pay a long interest, as long as the history of Egypt runs. Ah, see, + the houses of Assouan, the palms, the river, the masts of the dahabiehs!” + </p> + <p> + Lacey quickened his camel’s steps, and stretched out a hand to the + inviting distance. “‘My, it’s great,” he said, and his eyes were blinking + with tears. Presently he pointed. “There’s a woman riding to meet us, Saa + dat. Golly, can’t she ride! She means to be in it—to salute the + returning brave.” + </p> + <p> + He did not glance at David. If he had done so, he would have seen that + David’s face had taken on a strange look, just such a look as it wore that + night in the monastery when he saw Hylda in a vision and heard her say: + “Speak, speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + There had shot into David’s mind the conviction that the woman riding + towards them was Hylda. Hylda, the first to welcome him back, Hylda—Lady + Eglington! Suddenly his face appeared to tighten and grow thin. It was all + joy and torture at once. He had fought this fight out with himself—had + he not done so? Had he not closed his heart to all but duty and Egypt? Yet + there she was riding out of the old life, out of Hamley, and England, and + all that had happened in Cairo, to meet him. Nearer and nearer she came. + He could not see the face, but yet he knew. He quickened his camel and + drew ahead of Lacey. Lacey did not understand, he did not recognise Hylda + as yet; but he knew by instinct the Saadat’s wishes, and he motioned the + others to ride more slowly, while he and they watched horsemen coming out + from Assouan towards them. + </p> + <p> + David urged his camel on. Presently he could distinguish the features of + the woman riding towards him. It was Hylda. His presentiment, his instinct + had been right. His heart beat tumultuously, his hand trembled, he grew + suddenly weak; but he summoned up his will, and ruled himself to something + like composure. This, then, was his home-coming from the far miseries and + trials and battle-fields—to see her face before all others, to hear + her voice first. What miracle had brought this thing to pass, this + beautiful, bitter, forbidden thing? Forbidden! Whatever the cause of her + coming, she must not see what he felt for her. He must deal fairly by her + and by Eglington; he must be true to that real self which had emerged from + the fiery trial in the monastery. Bronzed as he was, his face showed no + paleness; but, as he drew near her, it grew pinched and wan from the + effort at self-control. He set his lips and rode on, until he could see + her eyes looking into his—eyes full of that which he had never seen + in any eyes in all the world. + </p> + <p> + What had been her feelings during that ride in the desert? She had not + meant to go out to meet him. After she heard that he was coming, her + desire was to get away from all the rest of the world, and be alone with + her thoughts. He was coming, he was safe, and her work was done. What she + had set out to do was accomplished—to bring him back, if it was + God’s will, out of the jaws of death, for England’s sake, for the world’s + sake, for his sake, for her own sake. For her own sake? Yes, yes, in spite + of all, for her own sake. Whatever lay before, now, for this one hour, for + this moment of meeting he should be hers. But meet him, where? Before all + the world, with a smile of conventional welcome on her lips, with the same + hand-clasp that any friend and lover of humanity would give him? + </p> + <p> + The desert air blew on her face, keen, sweet, vibrant, thrilling. What he + had heard that night at the monastery, the humming life of the land of + white fire—the desert, the million looms of all the weavers of the + world weaving, this she heard in the sunlight, with the sand rising like + surf behind her horse’s heels. The misery and the tyranny and the + unrequited love were all behind her, the disillusion and the loss and the + undeserved insult to her womanhood—all, all were sunk away into the + unredeemable past. Here, in Egypt, where she had first felt the stir of + life’s passion and pain and penalty, here, now, she lost herself in a + beautiful, buoyant dream. She was riding out to meet the one man of all + men, hero, crusader, rescuer—ah, that dreadful night in the Palace, + and Foorgat’s face! But he was coming, who had made her live, to whom she + had called, to whom her soul had spoken in its grief and misery. Had she + ever done aught to shame the best that was in herself—and had she + not been sorely tempted? Had she not striven to love Eglington even when + the worst was come, not alone at her own soul’s command, but because she + knew that this man would have it so? Broken by her own sorrow, she had + left England, Eglington—all, to keep her pledge to help him in his + hour of need, to try and save him to the world, if that might be. So she + had come to Nahoum, who was binding him down on the bed of torture and of + death. And yet, alas! not herself had conquered Nahoum, but David, as + Nahoum had said. She herself had not done this one thing which would have + compensated for all that she had suffered. This had not been permitted; + but it remained that she had come here to do it, and perhaps he would + understand when he saw her. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she knew he would understand! She flung up her head to the sun and + the pulse-stirring air, and, as she did so, she saw his cavalcade + approaching. She was sure it was he, even when he was far off, by the same + sure instinct that convinced him. For an instant she hesitated. She would + turn back, and meet him with the crowd. Then she looked around. The desert + was deserted by all save herself and himself and those who were with him. + No. Her mind was made up. She would ride forward. She would be the first + to welcome him back to life and the world. He and she would meet alone in + the desert. For one minute they would be alone, they two, with the world + afar, they two, to meet, to greet—and to part. Out of all that Fate + had to give of sorrow and loss, this one delectable moment, no matter what + came after. + </p> + <p> + “David!” she cried with beating heart, and rode on, harder and harder. + </p> + <p> + Now she saw him ride ahead of the others. Ah, he knew that it was she, + though he could not see her face! Nearer and nearer. Now they looked into + each other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + She saw him stop his camel and make it kneel for the dismounting. She + stopped her horse also, and slid to the ground, and stood waiting, one + hand upon the horse’s neck. He hastened forward, then stood still, a few + feet away, his eyes on hers, his helmet off, his brown hair, brown as when + she first saw it—peril and hardship had not thinned or greyed it. + For a moment they stood so, for a moment of revealing and understanding, + but speechless; and then, suddenly, and with a smile infinitely touching, + she said, as he had heard her say in the monastery—the very words: + </p> + <p> + “Speak—speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand in his. “There is no need—I have said all,” he + answered, happiness and trouble at once in his eyes. Then his face grew + calmer. “Thee has made it worth while living on,” he added. + </p> + <p> + She was gaining control of herself also. “I said that I would come when I + was needed,” she answered less, tremblingly. + </p> + <p> + “Thee came alone?” he asked gently. + </p> + <p> + “From Assouan, yes,” she said in a voice still unsteady. “I was riding out + to be by myself, and then I saw you coming, and I rode on. I thought I + should like to be the first to say: ‘Well done,’ and ‘God bless you!’” + </p> + <p> + He drew in a long breath, then looked at her keenly. “Lord Eglington is in + Egypt also?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Her face did not change. She looked him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, Eglington would not come to help you. I came to Nahoum, as I said I + would.” + </p> + <p> + “Thee has a good memory,” he rejoined simply. “I am a good friend,” she + answered, then suddenly her face flushed up, her breast panted, her eyes + shone with a brightness almost intolerable to him, and he said in a low, + shaking voice: + </p> + <p> + “It is all fighting, all fighting. We have done our best; and thee has + made all possible.” + </p> + <p> + “David!” she said in a voice scarce above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Thee and me have far to go,” he said in a voice not louder than her own, + “but our ways may not be the same.” + </p> + <p> + She understood, and a newer life leaped up in her. She knew that he loved + her—that was sufficient; the rest would be easier now. Sacrifice, + all, would be easier. To part, yes, and for evermore; but to know that she + had been truly loved—who could rob her of that? + </p> + <p> + “See,” she said lightly, “your people are waiting—and there, why, + there is my cousin Lacey. Tom, oh, Cousin Tom!” she called eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Lacey rode down on them. “I swan, but I’m glad,” he said, as he dropped + from his horse. “Cousin Hylda, I’m blest if I don’t feel as if I could + sing like Aunt Melissa.” + </p> + <p> + “You may kiss me, Cousin Tom,” she said, as she took his hands in hers. + </p> + <p> + He flushed, was embarrassed, then snatched a kiss from her cheek. “Say, + I’m in it, ain’t I? And you were in it first, eh, Cousin Hylda? The rest + are nowhere—there they come from Assouan, Kaid, Nahoum, and the + Nubians. Look at ‘em glisten!” + </p> + <p> + A hundred of Kaid’s Nubians in their glittering armour made three sides of + a quickly moving square, in the centre of which, and a little ahead, rode + Kaid and Nahoum, while behind the square-in parade and gala dress-trooped + hundreds of soldiers and Egyptians and natives. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly the two cavalcades approached each other, the desert ringing with + the cries of the Bedouins, the Nubians, and the fellaheen. They met on an + upland of sand, from which the wide valley of the Nile and its wild + cataracts could be seen. As men meet who parted yesterday, Kaid, Nahoum, + and David met, but Kaid’s first quiet words to David had behind them a + world of meaning: + </p> + <p> + “I also have come back, Saadat, to whom be the bread that never moulds and + the water that never stales!” he said, with a look in his face which had + not been there for many a day. Superstition had set its mark on him—on + Claridge Pasha’s safety depended his own, that was his belief; and the + look of this thin, bronzed face, with its living fire, gave him vital + assurance of length of days. + </p> + <p> + And David answered: “May thy life be the nursling of Time, Effendina. I + bring the tribute of the rebel lions once more to thy hand. What was + thine, and was lost, is thine once more. Peace and salaam!” Between Nahoum + and David there were no words at first at all. They shook hands like + Englishmen, looking into each other’s eyes, and with pride of what Nahoum, + once, in his duplicity, had called “perfect friendship.” + </p> + <p> + Lacey thought of this now as he looked on; and not without a sense of + irony, he said under his breath, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a + Christian!” + </p> + <p> + But in Hylda’s look, as it met Nahoum’s, there was no doubt—what + woman doubts the convert whom she thinks she has helped to make? + Meanwhile, the Nubians smote their mailed breasts with their swords in + honour of David and Kaid. + </p> + <p> + Under the gleaming moon, the exquisite temple of Philae perched on its + high rock above the river, the fires on the shore, the masts of the + dahabiehs twinkling with lights, and the barbarous songs floating across + the water, gave the feeling of past centuries to the scene. From the + splendid boat which Kaid had placed at his disposal David looked out upon + it all, with emotions not yet wholly mastered by the true estimate of what + this day had brought to him. With a mind unsettled he listened to the + natives in the forepart of the boat and on the shore, beating the + darabukkeh and playing the kemengeh. Yet it was moving in a mist and on a + flood of greater happiness than he had ever known. + </p> + <p> + He did not know as yet that Eglington was gone for ever. He did not know + that the winds of time had already swept away all traces of the house of + ambition which Eglington had sought to build; and that his nimble tongue + and untrustworthy mind would never more delude and charm, and wanton with + truth. He did not know, but within the past hour Hylda knew; and now out + of the night Soolsby came to tell him. + </p> + <p> + He was roused from his reverie by Soolsby’s voice saying: “Hast nowt to + say to me, Egyptian?” + </p> + <p> + It startled him, sounded ghostly in the moonlight; for why should he hear + Soolsby’s voice on the confines of Egypt? But Soolsby came nearer, and + stood where the moonlight fell upon him, hat in hand, a rustic modern + figure in this Oriental world. + </p> + <p> + David sprang to his feet and grasped the old man by the shoulders. + “Soolsby, Soolsby,” he said, with a strange plaintive-note in his voice, + yet gladly, too. “Soolsby, thee is come here to welcome me! But has she + not come—Miss Claridge, Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + He longed for that true heart which had never failed him, the simple soul + whose life had been filled by thought and care of him, and whose every act + had for its background the love of sister for brother—for that was + their relation in every usual meaning—who, too frail and broken to + come to him now, waited for him by the old hearthstone. And so Soolsby, in + his own way, made him understand; for who knew them both better than this + old man, who had shared in David’s destiny since the fatal day when Lord + Eglington had married Mercy Claridge in secret, had set in motion a long + line of tragic happenings? + </p> + <p> + “Ay, she would have come, she would have come,” Soolsby answered, “but she + was not fit for the journey, and there was little time, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did thee come, Soolsby? Only to welcome me back?” + </p> + <p> + “I come to bring you back to England, to your duty there, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + The first time Soolsby had used the words “my lord,” David had scarcely + noticed it, but its repetition struck him strangely. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sometimes they call me Pasha and Saadat, but I am not ‘my lord,’” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but you are my lord, Egyptian, as sure as I’ve kept my word to you + that I’d drink no more, ay, on my sacred honour. So you are my lord; you + are Lord Eglington, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + David stood rigid and almost unblinking as Soolsby told his tale, + beginning with the story of Eglington’s death, and going back all the + years to the day of Mercy Claridge’s marriage. + </p> + <p> + “And him that never was Lord Eglington, your own father’s son, is dead and + gone, my lord; and you are come into your rights at last.” This was the + end of the tale. + </p> + <p> + For a long time David stood looking into the sparkling night before him, + speechless and unmoving, his hands clasped behind him, his head bent + forward, as though in a dream. + </p> + <p> + How, all in an instant, had life changed for him! How had Soolsby’s tale + of Eglington’s death filled him with a pity deeper than he had ever + felt-the futile, bitter, unaccomplished life, the audacious, brilliant + genius quenched, a genius got from the same source as his own resistless + energy and imagination, from the same wild spring. Gone—all gone, + with only pity to cover him, unloved, unloving, unbemoaned, save by the + Quaker girl whose true spirit he had hurt, save by the wife whom he had + cruelly wronged and tortured; and pity was the thing that moved them both, + unfathomable and almost maternal, in that sense of motherhood which, in + spite of love or passion, is behind both, behind all, in every true + woman’s life. + </p> + <p> + At last David spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows of all this—of who I am, Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Eglington and myself, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Only she and you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only us two, Egyptian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let it be so—for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Soolsby was startled, dumfounded. + </p> + <p> + “But you will take your title and estates, my lord; you will take the + place which is your own.” + </p> + <p> + “And prove my grandfather wrong? Had he not enough sorrow? And change my + life, all to please thee, Soolsby?” + </p> + <p> + He took the old man’s shoulders in his hands again. “Thee has done thy + duty as few in this world, Soolsby, and given friendship such as few give. + But thee must be content. I am David Claridge, and so shall remain ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, since he has no male kin, the title dies, and all that’s his will + go to her ladyship,” Soolsby rejoined sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Does thee grudge her ladyship what was his?” + </p> + <p> + “I grudge her what is yours, my lord—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Soolsby paused, as though a new thought had come to him, and he + nodded to himself in satisfaction. “Well, since you will have it so, it + will be so, Egyptian; but it is a queer fuddle, all of it; and where’s the + way out, tell me that, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + David spoke impatiently. “Call me ‘my lord’ no more.... But I will go back + to England to her that’s waiting at the Red Mansion, and you will + remember, Soolsby—” + </p> + <p> + Slowly the great flotilla of dahabiehs floated with the strong current + down towards Cairo, the great sails swelling to the breeze that blew from + the Libyan Hills. Along the bank of the Nile thousands of Arabs and + fellaheen crowded to welcome “the Saadat,” bringing gifts of dates and + eggs and fowls and dourha and sweetmeats, and linen cloth; and even in the + darkness and in the trouble that was on her, and the harrowing regret that + she had not been with Eglington in his last hour—she little knew + what Eglington had said to Faith in that last hour—Hylda’s heart was + soothed by the long, loud tribute paid to David. + </p> + <p> + As she sat in the evening light, David and Lacey came, and were received + by the Duchess of Snowdon, who could only say to David, as she held his + hand, “Windlehurst sent his regards to you, his loving regards. He was + sure you would come home—come home. He wished he were in power for + your sake.” + </p> + <p> + So, for a few moments she talked vaguely, and said at last: “But Lady + Eglington, she will be glad to see you, such old friends as you are, + though not so old as Windlehurst and me—thirty years, over thirty + la, la!” + </p> + <p> + They turned to go to Hylda, and came face to face with Kate Heaver. + </p> + <p> + Kate looked at David as one would look who saw a lost friend return from + the dead. His eyes lighted, he held out his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + “It is good to see thee here,” he said gently. “And ‘tis the cross-roads + once again, sir,” she rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Thee means thee will marry Jasper?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I will marry Jasper now,” she answered. “It has been a long waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “It could not be till now,” she responded. + </p> + <p> + David looked at her reflectively, and said: “By devious ways the human + heart comes home. One can only stand in the door and wait. He has been + patient.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been patient, too,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + As the Duchess disappeared with David, a swift change came over Lacey. He + spun round on one toe, and, like a boy of ten, careered around the deck to + the tune of a negro song. + </p> + <p> + “Say, things are all right in there with them two, and it’s my turn now,” + he said. “Cute as she can be, and knows the game! Twice a widow, and knows + the game! Waiting, she is down in Cairo, where the orange blossom blows. + I’m in it; we’re all in it—every one of us. Cousin Hylda’s free now, + and I’ve got no past worth speaking of; and, anyhow, she’ll understand, + down there in Cairo. Cute as she can be—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he swung himself down to the deck below. “The desert’s the place + for me to-night,” he said. Stepping ashore, he turned to where the Duchess + stood on the deck, gazing out into the night. “Well, give my love to the + girls,” he called, waving a hand upwards, as it were to the wide world, + and disappeared into the alluring whiteness. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got to get a key-thought,” he muttered to himself, as he walked + swiftly on, till only faint sounds came to him from the riverside. In the + letter he had written to Hylda, which was the turning-point of all for + her, he had spoken of these “key-thoughts.” With all the childishness he + showed at times, he had wisely felt his way into spheres where life had + depth and meaning. The desert had justified him to himself and before the + spirits of departed peoples, who wandered over the sands, until at last + they became sand also, and were blown hither and thither, to make beds for + thousands of desert wayfarers, or paths for camels’ feet, or a blinding + storm to overwhelm the traveller and the caravan; Life giving and taking, + and absorbing and destroying, and destroying and absorbing, till the + circle of human existence wheel to the full, and the task of Time be + accomplished. + </p> + <p> + On the gorse-grown common above Hamley, David and Faith, and David’s + mother Mercy, had felt the same soul of things stirring—in the green + things of green England, in the arid wastes of the Libyan desert, on the + bosom of the Nile, where Mahommed Hassan now lay in a nugger singing a + song of passion, Nature, with burning voice, murmuring down the unquiet + world its message of the Final Peace through the innumerable years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_GLOS" id="link2H_GLOS"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GLOSSARY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aiwa——Yes. + Allah hu Achbar——God is most Great. + Al’mah——Female professional singers, signifying “a learned female.” + Ardab——A measure equivalent to five English bushels. + + Backsheesh——Tip, douceur. + Balass——Earthen vessel for carrying water. + Bdsha——Pasha. + Bersim——Clover. + Bismillah——In the name of God. + Bowdb——A doorkeeper. + + Dahabieh——A Nile houseboat with large lateen sails. + Darabukkeh——A drum made of a skin stretched over an earthenware funnel. + Dourha——Maize. + + Effendina——Most noble. + El Azhar——The Arab University at Cairo. + + Fedddn——A measure of land representing about an acre. + Fellah——The Egyptian peasant. + + Ghiassa——Small boat. + + Hakim——Doctor. + Hasheesh——Leaves of hemp. + + Inshallah——God willing. + + Kdnoon——A musical instrument like a dulcimer. + Kavass——An orderly. + Kemengeh——A cocoanut fiddle. + Khamsin——A hot wind of Egypt and the Soudan. + + Kourbash——A whip, often made of rhinoceros hide. + + La ilaha illa-llah——There is no deity but God. + + Malaish——No matter. + Malboos——Demented. + Mastaba——A bench. + Medjidie——A Turkish Order. + Mooshrabieh——Lattice window. + Moufettish——High Steward. + Mudir——The Governor of a + Mudirieh, or province. + Muezzin——The sheikh of the mosque who calls to prayer. + + Narghileh——A Persian pipe. + Nebool——A quarter-staff. + + Ramadan——The Mahommedan season of fasting. + + Saadat-el-bdsha——Excellency Pasha. + Sdis——Groom. + Sakkia——The Persian water-wheel. + Salaam——Eastern salutation. + Sheikh-el-beled——Head of a village. + + Tarboosh——A Turkish turban. + + Ulema——Learned men. + + Wakf——Mahommedan Court dealing with succession, etc. + Welee——A holy man or saint. + + Yashmak——A veil for the lower part of the face. + Yelek——A long vest or smock. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + A cloak of words to cover up the real thought behind + Antipathy of the man in the wrong to the man in the right + Antipathy of the lesser to the greater nature + Begin to see how near good is to evil + But the years go on, and friends have an end + Cherish any alleviating lie + Does any human being know what he can bear of temptation + Friendship means a giving and a getting + He’s a barber-shop philosopher + Heaven where wives without number awaited him + Honesty was a thing he greatly desired—in others + How little we can know to-day what we shall feel tomorrow + How many conquests have been made in the name of God + Monotonously intelligent + No virtue in not falling, when you’re not tempted + Of course I’ve hated, or I wouldn’t be worth a button + One does the work and another gets paid + Only the supremely wise or the deeply ignorant who never alter + Passion to forget themselves + Political virtue goes unrewarded + She knew what to say and what to leave unsaid + Smiling was part of his equipment + Sometimes the longest way round is the shortest way home + Soul tortured through different degrees of misunderstanding + The vague pain of suffered indifference + There is no habit so powerful as the habit of care of others + There’s no credit in not doing what you don’t want to do + To-morrow is no man’s gift + Tricks played by Fact to discredit the imagination + Triumph of Oriental duplicity over Western civilisation + We want every land to do as we do; and we want to make ‘em do it + We must live our dark hours alone + When God permits, shall man despair? + Woman’s deepest right and joy and pain in one—to comfort +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weavers, Complete, by Gilbert Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEAVERS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 6267-h.htm or 6267-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/6267/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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