On the following morning Daniel received a message from Lord Blair
asking him to come into the study, and he presumed that the question of
his relationship to Muriel was to be discussed, for in his present state
of upheaval he could hardly imagine that there was anything else in the
world to talk about. He was deeply troubled in his mind, for he felt
that this fever of love which had kept him awake half the night, and
which hourly was growing more intense, was a menace to his happiness and
to hers. A thousand times he had told himself that their two lives were
incompatible, and yet their unity was now to him the vital object of his
existence. Nothing else seemed to matter.
Lord Blair received him with a whimsical smile, and waved him to a chair
as though formally introducing him to it. "Sit down, my dear Daniel," he
said. "I want to know if you can throw any light upon this extraordinary
letter which was delivered here this morning, by hand."
He held up a large pink envelope inscribed in green ink, and handed it
across the table; and, while Daniel examined it, he sat watching him
benevolently, the tips of his thin fingers pressed together.
The document was written in English, and the wandering handwriting was
not unlike that of a child. The address upon the envelope was arresting
in its simplicity. "His Excel. The Lord's Deputy," it read.
"Frank Lestrange opened it," said Lord Blair; "for he presumed that the
'Lord' referred to was myself and not the Almighty, and that the
'Deputy' indicated a secretary. But the letter itself was an enigma to
him, and the enclosure a mystery."
He held up a carefully folded pocket-handkerchief which the envelope had
contained, and Daniel glanced at it with sudden recognition.
The document was as follows:
Dear sir we are sorry one assassnated you yesterday because you
came to us and we see you for the brave gentilman and the
Egyptian rispect the Chivalry herewith please find and oblige
Your Wishwellers.
"Well?" asked Lord Blair.
Daniel burst out laughing. "Oh, what children they are!" he exclaimed.
"I think that if we all packed up and went home, and sent out half a
dozen schoolmasters in our place, the Egyptian question would be
solved."
"Why?--what is the meaning of the letter?" asked his lordship.
"I'd much rather not tell you," Daniel replied.
"But I must insist," said Lord Blair. "I must indeed insist."
Daniel felt awkward: the story was so silly. "It was nothing much," he
explained. "A wretched boy came here yesterday to kill me, and in taking
his revolver away from him I unfortunately broke his wrist. So I made a
sling with my handkerchief and took him to the doctor. He was in great
pain, poor chap." He paused and reread the letter.
"Go on with the story," said Lord Blair. "'This is very serious, very
serious indeed."
"Oh, no, it's not," replied Daniel. "I guessed where he came from and
took him home, and had a talk to the whole gang of them. They were all
very young and very ardent. But there's nothing more to hear from them
now. Poor lads!--I think they were mighty glad the bullet went wide."
"D'you mean to say you bearded them in their den?"
"Yes; luckily I found them assembled at their dinner."
Lord Blair sat back in his chair and toyed with a paper-knife, while
Daniel gave him a few more details of the occurrence. There was a
curious expression on his face as he listened, and his dark eyes seemed
to be shining very brightly. When the brief tale was finished, he rose
to his feet, and made a flitting expedition to the window; drummed on
the pane; and then, coming round in front of his friend, put his hands
upon his broad shoulders.
"My dear fellow ..." he said, and hesitated. Then: "Dear me, dear me,
Daniel." Suddenly he drew himself up, and, thrusting forward a stiff
arm, grasped the other's hand and wrung it shyly but fiercely.
Daniel looked at him in surprise, for he appeared to be battling with
some powerful emotion; and, feeling that the situation no longer
required his presence, he rose to go.
Lord Blair stopped him. "Wait," he said; "there is another matter about
which I want to speak to you."
Daniel guessed what was coming, and waited with impatience for Lord
Blair to open the subject. It seemed to him that his relationship to
Muriel was the only thing worth discussing. But the Great Man's thoughts
were still occupied with the tale which Daniel had unfolded, and for
some time he continued to ask questions and to make ejaculatory
comments.
At length, however, an awkward silence and some signs of nervousness
indicated that the all-important subject was about to be introduced; but
Lord Blair, as was his wont, circled round the outskirts of the matter
for some time, speaking of his advancing years and of a father's duty to
his only child.
Daniel was impatient to get to grips. "I take it," he said, interrupting
him, "that you want to ask me what my intentions are in regard to Lady
Muriel."
Lord Blair smiled nervously. "Or shall we say," he suggested, "that I
want to know what Muriel's intentions are in regard to you. I have
noticed the growing intimacy between you, and you will perhaps have
observed that I have not discouraged it. But today, it is my duty to
tell you, I saw you ... er ... ahem ... I saw you kiss one another good
morning."
Lord Blair, having thus delivered himself, sat back in his chair, his
eyes fixed upon the younger man.
"Yes, that's so," the latter replied; "and I wish to Heaven you'd tell
me what is to be done about it. I am afraid I have got to tell you that
I love Muriel." He leant forward and knitted his brows. "I'm sunk," he
groaned, running his hand through his hair. "It's no good fighting
against it any longer."
Lord Blair drummed his fingers on the table. "Dear me, dear me!" he
muttered. "And what does Muriel say about it?"
"I haven't asked her," Daniel replied. "I suppose she believes she cares
for me, too; but that's just the trouble: I've been wondering all night
whether she knows her own mind. You see we are so totally unsuited to
one another."
"What makes you say that?" Lord Blair asked, obviously pained.
Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm a serious-minded sort of
fellow, and Muriel seems to enjoy all this Society business which I
detest."
"She is young," was the reply.
"And then I'm a comparatively penniless nobody, and I've heard her
described as one of the most eligible young women in England."
"Tut, tut," Lord Blair ejaculated. "It is true that she will inherit
whatever I am able to leave; but an alliance between the Lanes and the
Blairs does not seem to me to be open to criticism. After all, our
respective names have figured side by side in many pages of English
history."
Daniel did not wish to pursue this aspect of the matter. He wanted
Muriel, but he wished her to be sure of her love before he bound her to
him by a formal engagement: this summed up his attitude in a single
sentence. He therefore discussed the question along these lines; but it
was apparent that he was labouring under great mental and emotional
stress. He begged Lord Blair not to influence his daughter in one
direction or the other, but to leave the solution of the problem in the
hands of Providence.
"I just want her to feel," he explained, "that I am an intimate chum of
hers; and then if the thing carries us both off our feet, why we'll come
to you and say we want to get married. If not--well, I'm not going to
bind her unless it's clear she is as head over ears in love with me as I
am now with her."
"You may lose her," said Lord Blair, shaking his head wisely.
"If that is going to be at any time likely," Daniel answered, "I would
rather it happened now than after we are married."
When the interview was at an end Lord Blair sat for some time in deep
thought. He was somewhat disappointed that Daniel was not more
impetuous, and he saw no reason why Muriel should be treated with such
careful consideration, lest she should make a mistake and suffer for it
later. He regarded his daughter as decidedly flighty, and, since she was
his heiress, he wanted to see her married as soon as possible to the man
of his choice, a man of strong will who would keep her well in hand: but
that, to his surprise, was just what the mighty Daniel seemed
disinclined to do.
Lord Blair did not believe in a man pandering to the whims of the woman
he loved: his own experience had been too devastating for that. He would
have liked to have heard Daniel say to him: "Your daughter wants
mastering: I will take her in hand, and turn her into a dutiful wife and
a God-fearing mother of your Blair-Lane grandsons." But instead of this
he had said in effect: "Since I shall always want her, if she wants me
she can have me when she wants;" and this seemed a poor policy,
bordering on self-abnegation.
Muriel's own attitude was interesting. During this and the day following
she waited breathlessly for a proposal of marriage, and when none was
forthcoming, she decided that she would give him one week and then lose
her temper. But the week went by, and nothing happened, except that
their intimacy grew and their eyes sought one another more frequently.
His work kept him very busy, but daily he found some moment in which he
could be alone with her; and at these times he put his arms about her
and looked into her face with such tenderness in his eyes that she could
have cried. He seemed to be searching her heart, to be trying to assure
himself of her love; and when he kissed her he appeared to restrain the
passion which she knew was consuming him.
Once he came so near to a definite offer of marriage that she held her
breath. Yet what he said was but this: "Life is short, and there is no
time for a mistake. Think, Muriel, think!--You and I will soon have to
make a decision which cannot be altered. Think of all those things in my
method of life which you don't like or don't understand. Because the
choice is close at hand."
And in her bedroom, in the darkness of the night, she had thought; but
her thoughts had travelled in circles, leading her nowhere. Perhaps, she
said to herself, he wished to hint that there were ugly aspects of his
life which she ought to take into consideration: perhaps he was
referring to those Bedouin women who were said to have been his
mistresses in the desert; or perhaps his frequent visits to the bazaars
and to native houses were not entirely dictated by the needs of his
work. She knew that women of the poorer classes often came to see him at
the Residency; and the stories which had come to her ears of his
goodness to widows and destitute paupers might have their origin in less
worthy circumstances than was supposed. It looked as though his
conscience were smiting him.
He had said to her: "The woman who loves me must give up much." Was he
suggesting, she wondered, that she should defy the conventions and fly
with him into the desert? Perhaps he had no thought of marriage: he only
wanted her to ride beside him over the limitless wilderness, and to
sleep with him under the stars. His words might be interpreted as
meaning that since one day they would grow tired of one another and he
would leave her to fish for herself, she ought to consider carefully
whether the adventure were worth while. But, no: that could hardly be
his meaning, though his refraining from a definite proposal of marriage
was suspicious.
Another matter greatly puzzled her. He did not seem to be jealous of her
familiarity with other men; and though during the last few days she had
rather enjoyed the novel experience of asking his permission, more or
less, when she was going out on what she termed a "joy-ride," she had
observed that he assumed no authority over her. He appeared to be quite
indifferent to her exits from, and interested only by her entries on to,
the stage of life.
Daniel, as a matter of fact, was determined to eradicate all those
fierce feelings of jealousy which shamefully he was aware she had
aroused in him. The green-eyed monster was a prehistoric beast,
unfitting the fair pastures of a philosopher's mind; and he would have
none of it. He believed passionately in freedom; and he was resolved to
regard love not as a prison but as a sphere of unbounded liberty--for
man and woman alike.
He was wroth with himself when he wished to break the heads of the young
men who hovered around her. He had not believed himself capable of such
disturbances; and his control was exerted to so much purpose that Muriel
mistook it for indifference.
Fortunately he was usually back in the solitude of his camp by
mid-afternoon, and he did not have to watch Muriel setting out for her
almost nightly dinners, dances, or opera-parties; and when, next day,
she used to relate her adventures, he would oblige himself to show
amusement and interest, though only black unrest could have been found
in his heart. He was impatient for the time when she should grow weary
of her amusements, and thus show that her heart was full of sweeter
interest, but he had no wish to force her to leave all, as it were, and
come to him.
Muriel, on her part, was increasingly annoyed at his apparent
indifference; and matters reached a crisis one afternoon at the end of
the first week in January. An expedition to the ancient necropolis of
Sakkara had been arranged, the party consisting of Muriel, Daniel, Mr.
and Mrs. Bindane, and John Dregge, one of the younger Secretaries at the
Residency. The Tombs of Sakkara stand at the edge of the desert, some
ten miles south of Mena House; and the excursion was made on horseback,
servants having been sent on ahead to prepare tea at the little
rest-house in the necropolis.
During the outward journey Benifett Bindane rode close to Daniel,
cross-questioning him in regard to the possibilities of agricultural
development in the Oases. He had decided to make a journey at the end of
February through the great chain of these oases; and Lord Blair, who, as
has been said, was keenly interested in the project, had already begun
to make arrangements for the expedition. Daniel was surprised to find
that Mr. Bindane had fully grasped all the essentials of the scheme,
and, in spite of his lethargic appearance, seemed to be making himself
master of the facts.
The subject was very interesting to both men, and Kate Bindane, who rode
with them, put in some shrewd observations; but meanwhile Lady Muriel
was left to ride ahead with John Dregge, and their two horses could be
seen moving close abreast, while Muriel's laughter frequently floated
back to them with the suggestion that she was enjoying herself
thoroughly.
This, however, was not the fact. She did not like her companion, who was
a very proper young man with a sallow face, side whiskers in the Byronic
style, a button of a mouth, and small, watchful eyes.
She was growing decidedly cross--"turning nasty" as they say; and though
she laughed loudly so that Daniel should hear, she made two or three
remarks to Mr. Dregge which were neither kind nor clever. The three
o'clock sun was extremely hot, the glare was intense, and her horse--a
borrowed one--had an objectionable habit of ambling when she wished him
to trot and of walking when she attempted to correct the amble.
When at last their destination was reached, and all five of them were
together again, she would not so much as look in Daniel's direction. Tea
was served at a tressel-table on the veranda of the rest-house, an
island of cool shadow in the golden sea of sand; but Muriel enjoyed
neither the meal nor the view. Nor did she give any great attention to
the beauties of the sculptured tombs and mausoleum which they
subsequently visited; and she felt only impatience when Daniel spoke
with enthusiasm of the grace of the ancient figures.
"We haven't advanced much in these thousands of years, have we?" he said
to her.
"No," she answered, "and judging by the progress made in the last ten
days, it'll be many thousands of years more before anything happens."
Daniel glanced quickly at her, with an inward chuckle, but she turned
from him with her head in the air.
The return journey was begun some time after the sun had set, and
complete darkness descended upon them while they were still two or three
miles from the hotel. Daniel now rode beside Muriel; and the others
having pushed ahead, they presently found themselves completely alone,
moving through the indigo of the night like two phantom riders wandering
over the uninhabited plains of the moon.
The air was cold, and sharp; and the stars gleamed overhead, so
numberless, so vivid, that the tremendous sky was densely spangled and
jewelled, in brilliance unknown to the western eye. It is only in clear,
dry air such as this that one actually sees the heavens as a vault, an
inverted bowl of deep royal blue, with the Milky Way arched across like
a vaporous white rainbow, and the greater stars and planets standing out
in bold patterns amidst the glittering atoms powdered over the whole
amazing area.
The pathway was obscure, and Daniel had to guide himself by the great
Pyramids which were silhouetted on the horizon against the stars; but
riding became altogether dangerous while yet there was over a mile to
go, and he proposed that they should dismount and lead their stumbling
horses.
Muriel followed his lead without protest; and Daniel, taking hold of her
arm with one hand, and leading the horses with the other, piloted her
slowly over the rough ground. He was very tenderly solicitous, anxiously
enquiring whether she were cold or tired; and she, stirred by the marvel
of the night, very largely forgot her anger. This trudging through the
intense darkness was having an extraordinary effect upon her mind: she
began to feel that her safety, indeed her very existence, depended upon
the giant of the desert who held her arm so firmly.
"I'm glad you're with me," she said to him. "I should be frightened with
anybody else."
"Frightened?" he asked. "But don't you feel, as I do, that the desert at
night is protective? Down there in the inhabited lands there are robbers
and murderers of body or mind; but up here I'm in my own kingdom: I go
wherever I like, do whatever I like, and there's nobody to disturb me
and nobody I disturb except a shy little jackal or two."
Presently Muriel paused. "Wait a minute," she said. "My boot has got
some sand in it."
She sat down upon the ground and pulled it off; while Daniel, being in
no hurry to return to the world, tethered the horses by rolling a small
boulder on to the trailing ends of the reins. This done, he came to her,
and, sitting beside her, helped her to put on the boot once more.
She was tired physically, and tired also of being angry. The astonishing
solitude caused her heart, as it were, to go to him for companionship.
Here in this tremendous silence, in this enveloping obscurity, she
seemed to belong to him, to be his property.
He put his arms about her. "Why have you been so unfriendly to me
today?" he asked, reproachfully.
She leaned her head back, and her hand went up around his neck. "Because
I love you, Daniel," she whispered.
She drew him down to her. At that moment she had no morals: she had
shaken the conventions from her like so many pieces of useless armour.
Her education had ever taught her to put small value upon such methods
of protection; and now, with a mental shrug, they fell wholly from her.
She wished only to be his, body and soul: here couched in the lap of
this great Mother Earth, and in the presence of the starry host of
heaven.
For a moment Daniel held her tightly within his arms; and the tempest of
his passion carried him forward to the brink of heedless disaster. But
mentally, as well as physically, he was a mighty man; and now his
philosophic training in control did not fail him.
Roughly he threw her arms from him, and, rising to his feet, gripped her
wrist. "Get up," he commanded her. "For God's sake get up!"
He dragged her up to him, and his fingers must have left bruises upon
her arm.
"O Daniel," she murmured, and in her abandonment there was almost
laughter in her words, and almost tears. "I'm yours--yours to do what
you like with. You can put me in your harim if you want to."
He turned from her, and fetched the horses. "Fool, fool!" said his body
to his mind. "Again, misunderstanding the meaning of life, you have
robbed me." "Be silent, rebel," said his mind to his body. "Give me time
to see if her passion be love." "Is there any difference?" sneered his
body; and his mind replied, "Had I not thought so, you should have had
your way."