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Page 19
"But----"
And she ripped the corner of her veil between perturbed fingers when,
upon the clapping of hands, a slave ran swiftly to learn his master's
pleasure, then hastened away to find the head body-woman of the
guesthouse assigned to women-visitors.
After which the sweet thrumming of the guitar instantly stopped.
On more than one night they talked under the stars, sitting on satin
cushions, or leaning on the marble fret-work of the balustrade looking
due east to where, so many miles away, flows the blue-green Nile, as it
has flowed through the centuries, all unheeding of the passing of
mighty kingdoms.
And yet had the mother learned nothing of the hurt reflected in her
firstborn's eyes.
"Most precious Mother," he was saying, as he stood flicking the pages
of the latest illustrated paper just arrived from Cairo, but which was
really a volume of the Book of Life written, printed and published by
Fate. "If it pleases you to stay when I am gone, will you do so just
as long as you find happiness in my dwelling?"
"You are going, Hugh,--so soon--for long?"
"There has come a report of lion in the Nubian Desert, as far north as
Deir el-Bahari. I can hardly believe it, for it is years and years
since a lion has been seen even in the Khor Baraka. However, a runner
from Nubia came in this morning, so there may be something in it. God
grant it, for the sport and the danger would be great, killing or being
killed, in the rocks and ruins of the Temple. Also I could visit my
Tents of Purple and of Gold. How long shall I be gone, sweet Mother?
That is known only to Allah, to whom our goings and our comings are as
the drifting of the sands."
"Your tents are very beautiful, my son. The servants are waiting for
your orders before pitching the--the--middle one. Without asking
permission, I went to inspect them. Just before your return, just to
see if everything was quite all right. One can never quite trust the
servants."
Jill might have been sitting on a rectory lawn, talking about her
linen-cupboard or spring-cleaning with a neighbour, instead of one of
the wonders of modern Egypt. In fact, so quaint was it that the man
laughed and swung her onto the balustrade.
"I'm not surprised Father worships the ground your ridiculous little
feet tread on, Mater," he said, causing his mother to gasp, so English
did he sound, so Oriental did he look.
"Dear!" she said gently, as she scrutinised him with a mother's eyes
and touched his face and patted his cheek and pulled a bit here and
there at his fine white linen coat, upon which in coarse thread was
embroidered the Hawk of Old Egypt. "Dear! don't you think you would be
happier if you were to marry and--settle down?"
And it was then that there came to her the full explanation of the hurt
reflected in her firstborn's eyes.
"I shall never marry, dear," very gently replied the man, so fearful
was he of causing pain to the woman who had borne him. "I--I--you see,
I cannot."
"Cannot, Hugh? But, my dear, what is the matter? You will have to,
some day, you know. You are your father's eldest son," answered the
woman, who, wrapped in perfect love and happiness, had never given a
thought to the far-reaching effects of her marriage with the Arabian.
"Dear son, there are so many beautiful, cultured, gentle women here and
at home--I mean in England--you------"
"Mother, please! Oh, Mother, you don't understand--dear heavens! you
don't understand. Listen--and, how I wish my father, whom I honour,
were here to comfort you. Forgive me, dear, forgive me for the pain I
must cause you------"
And the woman went white to the lips under a sudden blinding flash of
understanding and her proud eyes dropped to the hands clenched in her
lap.
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