During the ensuing two or three weeks Daniel was absorbed in the
organization of his work, and it was not until the festivities of
Christmas interrupted his routine, that he was able to look about him
and take his bearings. He had found the work extremely interesting, and
already he could see some indications that his point of view was being
adopted in the general policy of the Residency, while in specific cases
Lord Blair accepted his advice with very little hesitation.
In this atmosphere of confidence Daniel thrived and his labours
prospered. He was amused by his new insight into the Egyptian mind; and
he enjoyed his frequent rambles through those quarters of the city which
are unknown to the European visitor. Already he had native friends in
all parts of Cairo--from scavengers to Pashas; and in many of the
bazaars he was now greeted as a guest by the hospitable merchants. He
did not find any great difficulty in avoiding the more tedious of the
social functions at the Residency: and the early mornings and the
evenings were spent in tranquillity at his camp or in the surrounding
desert.
Sometimes, returning from his duties soon after luncheon, he would fill
his pockets with biscuits and his water-bottle with cold tea, and,
mounting his camel, would ride for two hours or more into the desert,
until as the last light of day faded from the sky he would reach some
sheltered drift of sand or bed of shingle amongst the rocks; and here he
would refresh himself and take his rest, mental and physical, in the
vast solitude, until the blackness of the night enveloped him. Then,
under the glistening heavens, he would ride slowly home again, guiding
himself by the stars, and dreaming his way through the witchery of the
darkness, until the distant lights of his camp, with the promise of
supper and bed, brought him down from the dim regions of everlasting
quiescence to the pleasant things of the body, so that he would press
forward in a final rush through the night, the sharp air of the Egyptian
winter beating in his face, the planets swinging above him, and the
obscure jackal-track slipping like a trail of vapour beneath the soft
pads of his camel.
He slept by night upon the top of the spur of rock above his tents; and
here on his camp bed, under the warm blankets, he would lie absorbed in
the splendour of the stars until sleep carried him outside the range of
astronomy. As the first shafts of the morning sun struck upon him from
above the eastern horizon, he would cast the blankets from him, and,
full of the joy of vigorous life, would clamber down to his camp, there
to bathe and dress himself in the keen air of the morning, and to devour
his breakfast in the brilliant sunshine at the door of his tent.
Here in his beloved desert any anxieties which the day might bring were
wholly banished from his brain; and each morning he took up his duties
with a mind purged and washed clean of the dust of yesterday, enlivened
by healthy sleep and vigorous exercise, and, above all, renewed in its
unity with the everlasting Wisdom. It was as though his mighty hands
were clasped in the mightier hands of that Spirit which dwells in the
world's open spaces; and, if he strayed during his work into tangled
paths of disquietude, he stepped back, as it were, with the descending
sun into the grasp of the unfailing Friend.
In one particular there was especial need of this refreshment and
renewal; for his thoughts were often disturbed in regard to his
friendship with Lady Muriel. He was sufficiently frank with himself to
realize that as the days passed he was growing more interested in her,
and at the same time he was well aware that any such interest was likely
to lead to discordance and unrest; for her method of life so greatly
differed from his own.
Muriel was having what she called "a good time"; and the argument "eat,
drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die," was ever ready upon her lips.
There was a sort of defiance in her attitude to Daniel, and sometimes as
she set out upon some new chase of amusement she seemed to be daring him
to stop her.
On a certain evening in Christmas-week this challenge had been
particularly evident. He had stayed on at the Residency until past seven
o'clock, for there had been an attempted assassination of one of the
native ministers, and Daniel had at once set himself to get to the
bottom of the trouble; and when at last he was crossing the hall on his
way out, he had come upon Muriel descending the staircase, dressed for a
dinner-party and dance which was being given at Mena House that evening.
Her luxurious automobile was standing at the door, and she had, of
course, offered to give him a lift.
Sitting by her side under the electric light in the car, he had been
more than ever conscious of the dissimilarity of their views of life. It
was not that he disapproved of her enjoyments, but rather that he
regretted the absence of all attempt on her part to get below the
surface of things. She was satisfied by her pursuit of the pleasures of
what is called Society; and the trouble was that she had caused him to
be dissatisfied with his own more profound search after happiness.
In his rough clothes he had seemed to be so far removed from this
exquisite dainty girl beside him, around whose white throat the pearls
glistened, and from whose gold-tasseled cloak of blue velvet there came
the faint scent of the lotus; and the disturbing fact had been
this--that he had been intoxicated by the fragrance of her, and the
touch of her arm against his. He had wanted to command her to abandon
her friends and to follow him into the desert; and suddenly he had been
aware that the expression in her eyes was one of disdain for the
hardihood that he loved.
As they had driven up to the gates of the hotel he had called her
attention to his camel which awaited him at the roadside, in charge of a
silent native, who now raised his hand to his dazzled eyes as the
headlights of the car fell upon him.
"Now confess," she had said, "that you would rather be coming with me
into the comfort of the hotel than bumping off on that great beast into
the cold bleak desert."
"I confess I would rather be with you tonight than alone," he answered,
"but not in the hotel. I don't like noise and clatter and stuffiness."
She had looked at him with a smile as the door of the car was opened by
a liveried servant. "I wonder," she mused, "why you play at being a
hermit. You are not a hermit at heart." She made a gesture with her arms
which was full of enticement. "Don't you ever hear the world calling
you?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered, gravely, "I hear it calling now; and I am shutting
my ears, because I know that it has nothing worth having to offer me."
"If you happen to be here at midnight," she said, "I dare say I shall be
wanting a breath of air."
The words had thrilled in his ears, and as she disappeared into the
lighted hall of the hotel he had stood for a moment irresolute. If he
were to ride down from the desert at midnight, she would stroll with him
for a few moments amongst the palms, and who could say what advancement
in their relationship would take place? But in so doing would he not be
but offering her material for new amusement?
He had ridden, then, in silence to his camp; and at his usual hour he
had gone to his bed beneath the stars; and though he was awake at
midnight he had not stirred from beneath his blankets.
That was three days ago; and now Christmas was passed, with its
church-service which he had attended together with the whole diplomatic
staff, and its heavy luncheon thereafter, at which he had been one of
twenty guests. Already, today, he had resumed the routine of his work;
but the short interruption had given him time to look about him, and his
bearings troubled him with their threat of dangers ahead.
Muriel, on her part, had felt herself snubbed that night when he failed
to take advantage of the midnight hour. She had slipped out on to the
veranda of the hotel and had waited for him, thereby missing a dance and
inconveniencing at least one partner. She had suggested the meeting
experimentally, to see what might be his attitude towards her; for she
could not decide whether he were fond of her or merely interested in her
as a case of needing reformation. And when he failed to turn up at the
trysting-hour, her foot tapped angrily upon the tiles of the veranda;
and at length she had gone indoors again with her head in the air but
her heart in the depths.
She was undoubtedly attracted to him, but she was also very decidedly
afraid of him. Sometimes it was as though he were suggesting to her that
she should abandon the luxuries and the little frivolities which she so
much enjoyed, and should trail after him into the desert, the Lord knows
where, and cook his food for him, and dress in a sheepskin, and sleep on
the hard sand with a rock for a pillow.
One of the most serious aspects of the matter was that her father was
very obviously attempting to throw her and Daniel Lane together. At
first she had supposed that Lord Blair desired her to come under his
influence for its philosophical value; but during the last few days
certain things that had been said led her to the amazing conclusion that
her father regarded him in the light of a possible son-in-law.
She utterly failed to picture this man in the role of husband: she could
imagine him as a companion or even as a lover, but as a husband never!
Husbands were people in top-hats, black coats, and stripey trousers,
with whom one went to St. Margaret's, Westminster, and then to
somebody's villa on the Riviera, "kindly lent," etc.; they had a lot of
old family servants who sniffed at you and said that such-and-such
wasn't his lordship's custom; they wanted sons and heirs, and, if you
failed to provide them, they cynically made you try again; they
developed money troubles sooner or later, and cut down your expenses at
the moment when you wanted to rebuild the ballroom; as the years passed
they became coldly courteous or hotly ill-tempered; and finally you were
either divorced or else laid by their crumbling side in the family
vault, in the sure and certain hope--thank God--that there were no
marriages in heaven.
But Daniel Lane was not of this autocratic class; nor could she picture
him living in England. If he succeeded to the Barthampton earldom he
would make an appalling mess of it; if he had to wear London clothes he
would look a sight; and if he shared the conjugal bed, it would probably
be on the roof or in the shrubbery, with gnats and things biting your
nose or an icy wind blowing around your legs.
She noticed her father's strategic dispositions one morning just after
Christmas, when Charles Barthampton called to take her to a military
review. She went into the study to tell him of her proposed absence; but
Lord Blair put his foot down, saying to her that if she attended this
particular function she ought to do so in the company of a civilian, so
as to avoid inter-regimental jealousies: a palpable excuse which did not
bear scrutiny. He suggested that Daniel Lane should go with her; and
before Lord Barthampton could escape, his cousin was sent for, and
Muriel went off into the garden in annoyance, leaving the three men
together in the hall. Lord Blair thereupon tripped back to his study,
bidding Daniel offer his cousin refreshment in the library.
Lord Barthampton, however, was scowling with anger, and would have taken
his departure immediately. But Daniel took him by the arm in a grip
which, though friendly, was one of iron, and, forcing him into a chair,
handed him a cigar.
"Have a whisky-and-soda?" he then suggested.
"No," his cousin grunted. "I'm a teetotaller, damn you."
Daniel chuckled. "Good for you," he laughed. "Have some barley water?"
At this Lord Barthampton scrambled to his feet, but Daniel gently pushed
him back into the chair.
"I want to have a talk with you," he said. "I want to tell you how glad
I am to see that you are pulling yourself together. You look a different
man already."
His cousin glared at him warily from under his heavy brows. "Yes," he
replied, "I'm not going to give you any excuse for turning me out. When
you do so, you'll have to do it against my father's wishes and
intentions; and I hope he'll come back from the grave and haunt you."
He spoke with dramatic gloom, and Daniel could not help being sorry for
him.
"Oh, don't worry yourself," he assured him. "As long as you behave
yourself decently, you're quite safe."
"I doubt it," the other muttered, despondently.
"I heard the other day," said Daniel, "from one of your brother officers
that you'd sworn off cards too."
Charles Barthampton puffed viciously at his cigar. "I suppose you'll rob
me of all my fun before I'm through with you. Hadn't you better ask me
whether I've joined the Y.M.C.A., and regularly say my prayers?"
"No, I'll leave that to you," Daniel answered with a smile. "But there's
one thing I should like to ask you: have you taken any steps yet to give
anything to the poor?"
His cousin shook his head.
"Well, hurry up and do so," said Daniel.
Once more Lord Barthampton rose from his chair, and this time to his
relief, he was not pushed back again. "I'm late for the show," he
grumbled, "and anyway it's no fun staying here, being put through my
paces. You've got all the cards, and the game's in your hands. It makes
me sick."
"Yes, I'm sorry," Daniel replied, and he spoke with sincerity. "But
don't worry yourself. You're going on fine."
With that he let him go.
Upon the following day, Lord Blair again acted in a manner which showed
the movement of his thoughts. Muriel was going out to lunch at Mena
House, and Daniel suggested that she and the Bindanes should ride over
to his camp to tea. Lord Blair appeared to be delighted at the proposal,
and gave it such hearty support that Muriel was constrained to accept
the invitation.
Thus it came about, that soon after four o'clock Daniel was helping his
three visitors to dismount from the hired camels which had jolted them
over the desert to his tents; and no sooner had the attendant camel-men
taken charge of the animals, than he found himself smilingly following
in his friends' wake as Muriel began enthusiastically to conduct them
around the camp, as though she were its proprietress.
She pointed out the various lockers and revealed their contents with
pride; she showed how this table folded up, or how that chair could be
converted into a bed; she called attention to the portable book-shelf,
and held up for inspection some of the volumes which she had arranged;
she introduced the three yellow dogs, and explained the merits of the
kennel she had built for them.
In her interest and pride in the work of her hands there was a complete
absence of self-consciousness; and the situation engendered so warm a
sense of intimacy that she found herself calling Daniel by his Christian
name, as though this had long been her habit.
When tea had been drunk and the sun was setting, Kate Bindane took her
husband by the arm and suggested a stroll. At this, however, Muriel's
mind returned to the conventions, and she intimated her desire to
accompany them. But Kate, profiting by Daniel's momentary absence with
Benifett Bindane, argued the point with her.
"You stay with Mr. Lane, old girl," she said. "He wants to be with you,
I'm sure; and any way I want to be alone with Benifett. Damn it, we're
on our honeymoon!"
There was a touch of wistfulness in her friend's jocular words; and
Muriel had seen enough of their married life to be understanding. Kate
Bindane had a romantic heart under her uncompromising exterior; and her
cold-blooded husband, to whom she was obviously devoted, must have
played the lover about as ardently as a jellyfish. But out here in the
solitude, the glory of the setting sun might infuse a little warmth into
his veins, and might lift his thoughts above those schemes of commercial
enterprise which seemed to constitute his sole interest in Egypt.
The two couples therefore separated for a while; and Muriel strolled
with Daniel to a cluster of rocks, amidst which they presently seated
themselves upon the slope of a sand-drift, facing towards the south and
west. Before them, framed between the great boulders of sun-browned
limestone, the desert stretched out to the purple hills in the distance;
and above the hills the glory of the cloud-flecked western sky was
spread like a vision of the Isles of the Blessed.
The evening was warm and windless, and no sound came to their ears
except the occasional twitter of an early bat, and the far-off wail of a
circling kestrel. It was as though some magical leap through time had
been accomplished, whereby they two had alighted upon the earth in an
age before the advent of man and beast, or after the last trump had left
the planet again desolate. Yet there was no sense of death in these
rock-strewn spaces, but rather a pulse of sleeping nature which held the
reiterated promise of life. The sand upon which they lay was warm and
golden, and the rocks about them were not cold nor dead to the touch.
Muriel lay upon the slope, her hands behind her head; and Daniel,
sitting beside her, and looking down at her with his calm blue eyes, had
the sunset as his aureola, so that he put her in mind of some figure by
Bonozzo Gozzoli painted against gold. His massive head and shoulders
seemed to tower above her like those of a rugged presence rising out of
the rocks and sand of the wilderness; and she noticed for the first time
that his face was reminiscent of Watts' "Samson," a picture which had
always delighted her.
[Illustration: _A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY--BURNING SANDS_]
Neither she nor he found any need of words, and for some time there was
almost complete silence between them, so that one might have supposed
the spell of the desert to have bewitched them. His hands idly played
with the sand; and, as the grains ran between his fingers, she seemed to
feel the memories of all her days slipping from her, until only this one
little moment of the present remained.
"Well?" she asked at last, and there was the question of all the ages in
her eyes.
"No man can escape his destiny," he replied; but the words did not seem
to be detached: rather they were the conclusion of a mute analysis to
which they had both contributed.
Again there fell a silence between them, a silence, however, so filled
with unspoken words that in it their relationship grew immeasurably more
close. The glory of the sunset began to fade, and the veil of the
twilight descended gently about them; but in their hearts it was dawn,
and the sunrise was very near.
At length he arose and stretched his arms to their full extent. Muriel
gazed up at him, wondering how he would choose to seal the compact
which, so it seemed, had been made between them in this period of their
silence. Suddenly she was conscious that her heart was beating fast, and
its throbbing brought her back from her dream.
She sat up, and looked at him for a moment with fear in her eyes; for it
was as though she had spoken words in the depths of her being which her
tongue would have been too reticent to utter.
Daniel clasped his hands behind the back of his head, and stood watching
her, a whimsical smile on his face. His expression was one of
perplexity, almost of amusement at the incomprehensibility of Fate.
"Come," he said, "we had better be going, Muriel, my dear."
He took her hand in his and raised her to her feet.
"Yes, Daniel, we had better be going," she replied.
She linked her arm in his; and thus they walked slowly back to the
tents, he looking down at her, and she looking up at him, and around
them the vast spaces of the desert already dim with the coming of night.