CROSS PURPOSES
Luxor was warm and drowsy with afternoon sun. Motionless the fronds
of the tall palms along the water front; motionless the columns of
the temple reflected in the blue Nile. Even the almost continuous
commotion of the landing stage was stilled.
The two big Nile steamers, of rival lines, lay quietly at rest,
emptied of their tourists, and on the embankment the dragomans, the
donkey boys, the innumerable venders, were lounging in the shade at
dominoes or dice.
In the big white hotels facing the river many drawn blinds spoke of
napping travelers, and in the shade of the garden of the Grand other
travelers were whiling away the listless inertia of the hour before
tea.
"I suppose it's _quite_ too early?" murmured a girl at one of the
tables, in the shade of a big acacia. Her companion, fussing with a
pastel sketch, answered absently, without looking up, "Oh, quite,"
and then with a note of brisker attention, "I thought we were
waiting for Robert?"
"Do you think he'll be back? It's _such_ a trip to the Tombs of the
Kings, you know!"
"To be sure he'll be back!" Miss Falconer spoke with asperity. "And
why he wanted to go over it again--it's odd you didn't care to go,
too, Claire," she added, most inconsequently. "It was such an
excellent opportunity--and you had already spoken of wishing to go
again."
"But not so exhaustively. They are doing the entire programme. I
only wanted some particular things."
"You could have done them."
"And it was hot."
"It must have been just as hot in the bazaars with Mr. Hill."
"Was it?"
This was purposeful vagueness and Miss Falconer's crayon snapped.
She made a sound of annoyance, then began gathering her sketching
things tidily together. Presently, "He's rather an agreeable person,
that young American, after all," she cannily observed.
"Why, after all?" Lady Claire was implacably aloof.
"Well, first impressions, you know----"
"_My_ first impressions of Mr. Hill were very delightful." The
English girl laughed softly, her eyes full of reminiscent amusement.
"He was a _deus ex machina_ to me--I quite jumped at him, I assure
you!"
"You don't have to assure me!" was the elder lady's unspoken
comment. She had been in a state of chronic irritation, ever since
that Friday noon when Billy B. Hill's tall figure had appeared in
the hotel dining room. And hurrying Claire away from the
conversation he was promptly evoking, she had encountered Arlee
Beecher and the Evershams streaming with the other passengers from
their boat to see the temple of Luxor, a wonderfully gay and excited
Arlee, so radiant in the happiness of her own safe world again that
she was bright gladness incarnate.... Instantly Robert had reverted
to his alarming infatuation ... and Lady Claire had most shamelessly
welcomed the American. It was all unspeakably annoying....
Aloud Miss Falconer observed, "I wonder what brought Mr. Hill back
to the Nile."
"I wonder," said Lady Claire pleasantly. "But it makes it very nice
for us, doesn't it?" she continued amiably. "He knows quite
_everything_ about temples."
"And particularly nice for Miss Beecher--though I can't say she is
treating him very well. However, that may be their way. 'Romance
apart from results,' was, I believe, his phrase."
Lady Claire was silent. But not overlong. "You really think----?"
she suggested tranquilly.
"He came on the same train."
"Coincidence. He mentioned he did not see her in the train till
Balliana."
"Umph!" Miss Falconer drew out of her bag the especial knitting
which she reserved for the Sabbath, and her fingers flew with
expressive spirit. "It's scandalous," she said at length. "Girls
gadding about the face of the earth--picking up chaperons when they
remember them."
"It's their way, you know."
"Oh, yes, it's their way. And their men seem to like it. Mr. Hill
didn't seem to consider it even _unusual_.... But as I said, he's
hardly a judge," Miss Falconer went on unsparingly. "The man's
bewitched. He never takes his eyes off her."
"I'm sure I don't blame him." Lady Claire's tone was most
successfully admiring. "She's too _wonderful_, isn't she, with those
great blue eyes and that astonishing hair! I'm sure Robert is
bewitched, too!"
"Nonsense!" But Miss Falconer's tone was too vigorous, betraying the
effort to rout a palpable enemy. "What nonsense!" she repeated.
"He's civil--naturally--when _you_ haven't a moment for him. The boy
has pride. Too much." The knitting needles clicked warningly.
"Civil!" The girl's low laughter was mocking. "Dear Miss Falconer,
you are such an _euphuist_!"
Miss Falconer looked up, a trifle startled. Her young charge was
more than a match for her in irony, but the elder lady did not lack
for solid perseverance, and she charged on undeterred.
"Of course the girl's pretty--too pretty. And Robert's a man--he has
eyes in his head and likes to please them. And she knows who he is
and draws him on."
"I don't think Miss Beecher cares a twopence who Robert is," said
Lady Claire honestly. "When I told her he was going to stand for
Roxham she answered that she had a very poor opinion of M.P.s--from
reading Mrs. Ward. I can't _quite_ see what she meant--but as for
her drawing him on, a moment ago, dear, you were accusing her of
luring Mr. Hill back from Cairo."
"I said he followed. I daresay she lured, too. The second
string----"
"Then it's quite _nice_ of me, isn't it, to carry off her second
string to the bazaars and prevent her playing him against Robert!"
Lady Claire laughed mischievously, in a flight of daring so foreign
to her usual reticence that Miss Falconer grimly perceived that she
was changed indeed. She thought helplessly that it was a great pity
that young people couldn't be treated as the children they
were--smacked and made to do what was best for them.
"And after all this dreadful gossiping how can we face our guests at
tea?" the girl continued in mock chiding.
"If they are much later we shall not be facing them at all," the
older woman declared. "I shall certainly have my tea at the proper
time."
The sight of an Arab servant with a tray of dishes had stirred her
to this declaration, and promptly she gave her order. In the middle
of it, "I'm always late!" said a merry voice, and little Miss
Beecher and Falconer were standing on the grass beside them.
"This time we had no following engagement," said Miss Falconer,
unpleasantly reminiscent of another tea time in Cairo, ten days
before, but even with her resentment of this American girl's
intrusion into her long-cherished plans, she could not prevent the
softening of her regard as she gazed upon her.
"You don't look as if you had been riding very hard at the Tombs of
the Kings," she observed, in reluctant admiration.
"Oh, but we have! We did quite a lot of Tombs--not anything like
thoroughly, of course!--and then we rode back early and made
ourselves tidy for your tea party," Arlee blithely explained, and
Miss Falconer perceived that her brother Robert had returned to the
hotel without seeking them out, had arrayed himself in fresh white
flannels and returned to the boat to escort Miss Beecher across the
road into the hotel garden.
Absently she sighed. Her eyes fell away from the peach-blossom
prettiness of Arlee's lovely face to the subtle simplicity of her
white frock of loosely woven silk, and she wondered if that heavy
embroidery meant money--or merely spending money. And then she
looked across at Lady Claire, and sighed again for her dream of an
aristocratic alliance.
"Mrs. Eversham--?" she thought to inquire.
"They're having the vicar--or is it the rector?--to tea. They asked
him this morning before your message came," Arlee explained. She did
not explain that the vicar, or the rector, had imagined, in
accepting, that she, too, was to be of that tea party on the boat
and was even now inquiring zealously of her of the Evershams.
"Here's Mr. Hill," said Lady Claire.
Miss Falconer stirred; there was room for the fifth chair between
her and Arlee. Lady Claire also stirred; there was room between her
and Robert Falconer. And there Billy B. Hill seated himself after a
general exchange of greetings.
"How were the bazaars?" said Arlee gaily across the table.
"You mean the department store of Mr. Isaac Cohen," Billy laughed
back. "They are all under him, you know."
"Not _really_!" Falconer exclaimed, in disillusionment. "It rather
takes it out, doesn't it, to know it is so commercialized."
"What did you expect--it is the twentieth century," Miss Falconer
retorted, putting aside her knitting as the tea things arrived.
"Sometimes it is," said Arlee.
"I think it's more so than ever, here," declared Lady Claire.
"Egypt's so _frightfully_ civilized----"
"Not when you're camping in the desert."
Again that funny little smile flitted over Arlee's face; not once
did she glance at Billy, but for all her air of unconsciousness he
felt that she was subtly sharing her thoughts with him and a quick
spark of gladness flashed in him.
Those had been three horrible days for Billy B. Hill.
Friday morning he had been practically a prisoner until his trunks
had arrived. He had emerged upon a spectacle of England
triumphant--Robert Falconer escorting Arlee to the temple of Luxor.
Later that afternoon he had called upon Arlee upon the boat to find
Falconer still there, and the Evershams very much so.
Robert Falconer had accompanied him back to the hotel. There was
something that he wanted to ask, and he asked it bluntly, but with
embarrassment. Had Billy said anything at all to Arlee of that
nonsense at the palace?
Here was a contingency for which Billy was not provided. He made no
provisions for this with Arlee.
"Have you?" he parried.
"Not a word," said the young Englishman. "We've not mentioned the
fellow's filthy name. But I wondered----"
"I did tell her we got worried one night, and tried to get into his
palace like a pair of brigands," Billy answered slowly.
"She must have thought us great fools," the sandy-haired young man
replied disgustedly. Clearly he felt that Billy had flourished this
story before Arlee to appear romantic, and he winced at its
absurdity.
"Oh, no--she just thought of it as a lark on our part," Billy went
on. "I didn't let her in for the horrible details--I don't think
she's likely to mention it to you. Or you to her," he added.
"Rather not." The young Englishman was emphatic. "I'm sorry you said
anything about it." Then he looked at Billy, a crinkle of amusement
in his eyes. "Rather a sell, you know--what?"
"I should say so!" returned Billy, with a hearty appearance of
chagrin, and a laugh cemented the understanding.
That was all between them concerning the escapade.
Billy had raced back to the boat, and secured an earnest fifteen
minutes with Arlee, who promised unlimited care, and then forced
upon him the wretched sovereigns that she owed. She was feeling
desperately spent and tired after her day of excitement, and
declared herself unequal to the dance upon the boat that evening.
Anxiously Billy had urged her to rest, and he spent a drifting and
distracted evening roaming alone in the temple of Luxor listening
to the distant music from the boat--thinking of Arlee.... Later he
had learned that she remained up for at least two dances with
Falconer.
So much for Friday. Saturday had been worse. Arlee had said on
Friday night that she would join the passengers in the all-day
excursion to the Tombs of the Kings, and Billy had somehow found
himself in an arrangement with Lady Claire and Falconer to go with
them. Then Arlee had not gone. Mrs. Eversham reported that she had a
headache, and Falconer had very promptly dropped out of the party,
leaving Billy with Lady Claire upon his hands, and so he went, and
he and Lady Claire and the Evershams and about sixty other
passengers had a brisk and busy day of it. When he returned just
before dinner he saw Arlee, apparently headacheless, upon the deck
of the steamer, chatting to Falconer.
That night she had attended the dance at the hotel under Miss
Falconer's wing. Billy had danced with her twice, and between times
his pride had kept him aloof--she might just have made one sign! But
though her bright friendliness was ever responsive; though she was
instantly, submissively, ready to accept his invitations or fulfill
his requests, he felt that there was something strangely lacking.
The gay spark of her coquetry was gone; she did not tease or play
with him; animated as she was in company, when they were alone
together a constraint fell upon her.
Miserably he felt that he reminded her of unhappy scenes and that
she would be secretly relieved when he was gone.
So now he was absurdly glad to hear her declare, in answer to Lady
Claire's questionings, "Oh, but the desert is wonderful! I loved it
in spite of----"
"In spite of--?" Lady Claire echoed.
"The sand," said Arlee promptly. But under her lashes, her eyes
came, at last, half-scared, to Billy's face.
"But the sand _is_ the desert," Lady Claire was murmuring.
"It's only part of it," Billy took it upon himself to answer. "Space
is the biggest part--and then color. And sometimes--heat."
"You spent quite a time on the desert edge with some excavators,
didn't you?" said the English girl, and Billy fell into talk with
her about his friend's work, and Falconer and his sister engrossed
Arlee.
And to-night was the very last night of her stay at Luxor. To-morrow
the boat would take her on out of his life--unless he pursued her
along the Nile, a foolish, unwanted intruder.... The three days here
had all slipped from his clumsy grasp--they seemed to have put a
widening distance between them.... He heard Falconer calculating
that the boat would touch again at Luxor for the next Friday night.
There seemed to be talk of a masked ball....
Billy leaned suddenly across the table.
"You have forgotten it's the best of the moon to-night?" he asked.
"You must let me take you to see it on Karnak."
Falconer gave him a very blank look.
"We've already planned for that," said he.
"We'll all go," cried Arlee, with instant pleasantness. "We mustn't
miss it for anything."
"You haven't seen the moon on the temple yet?" Billy inquired of
Lady Claire in the pause that ensued.
"Only once--four nights ago. But it wasn't full then."
Billy remembered that moon acutely. It had lighted two fugitives
across a waste of sand. He saw a little figure swaying rhythmically
high upon a camel, a quaint, old-world figure in misty white, with a
shimmering silver veil--like Rebecca coming across the desert, he
thought oddly. Then he looked up and saw a most modern figure in
white across the table, nibbling a cress sandwich, and laughing at
some jest of the Englishman's....
With a start he realized that Lady Claire was waiting for an answer.
"I beg your pardon. You asked----?"
"If _you_ had seen the temple in moonlight, Mr. Hill."
"Not Karnak--only Luxor--night before last."
"Only Luxor!" The girl beside him laughed. "How spoiled you are, Mr.
Hill! _Only_ Luxor!"
It came to Billy, with the force of revelation, that it was going to
be _only_ a great many things for him after this.... Those wild days
in the desert had seen to that, with devastating completeness....
Girls were only other girls--and delight in them a lost word. This
charming one beside him, with the friendly eyes where a faint shadow
of wistfulness underlay the surface brightness, was only Lady
Claire....
He wondered if he was going on like this forever. He wondered if he
was everlastingly to carry this memory about with him, like a
bullet.... Suddenly he felt enraged at himself, at his dumb pain and
useless longings, and with a stanch semblance of animation he flung
himself into the flow of talk which this pretty English girl was so
ready to offer him.