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Page 19
* * * * *
She had never waited for anything as she waited for the answers to
the passionately urgent notes she sent out. She had written the
doctor, the ambassador, the consul, the Evershams. And then she
walked up and down, up and down that long, dim room which grew
darker and darker with the fading light and counted off the seconds
and the minutes and the hours with her pulsing heart beats. She had
never known there was such suspense in the world. It was comparable
to nothing in her girl's life--the only faint analogy was in the old
school-time when she thought she had failed in the history
examination and her roommate had gone to the office to find out for
her. She remembered walking the floor then, in a silly panic of
fear. But she had not failed--she had just squeaked through and it
would be like that now. Someone would come to tell her that
everything was all right and laugh with her at her foolish fright.
But underneath this strain of fervent reassurance ran a cold little
current like an underground brook, a seeping chill of dread and
vague fear and strange amazement that she should be here in this
lonely palace, peering out of darkened windows, waiting and
listening.
This time it _was_ the Captain's steps, coming up the stairs.
Perceptive of her impatience, he had left her to herself, till he
could bring word. Now she stood, listening to the nearing jingle
that accompanied his footsteps, her hands clasped involuntarily
against her breast in rigid tension. And when she saw his face
through the dusk, saw the courteous deprecation of it, the
solicitous sympathy, she did not need his words to tell her that it
was not yet all right.
There was nothing to be done. Legal and medical authorities united
in insisting that no one, not even the guest, should leave the
palace until the fear of spreading the infection was past. This
might be modified in a day or two, but for the present they were too
frightened to make exceptions.
And they were going up the Nile Friday morning, Arlee remembered
numbly. And this was Thursday night.
"Did the Evershams--did they answer my letter?" she said with dry
lips.
The Evershams, it seemed, had not been at the hotel. Perhaps when
they had read the letter they would be able to do something about
it.
"They'll just _talk_!" cried Arlee passionately, her breast heaving.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to rave, she wanted to fly down
the stairs and hurl herself recklessly against that barring bayonet.
But because there was pride and spirit behind her delicate
loveliness she shut the door hard upon those imps of hysteria and
with high-held head and palely smiling lips she thanked the Captain
for the hospitality he was extending in his sister's name. Yes,
thank you, she would rejoin them at dinner. Yes, thank you, she
would like to go to her room now.
A serving maid, called by her hostess, conducted her--the blue-robed
girl, she thought, that she had seen drawing water at the well. A
black shawl hung from her head and dangling in its folds the
_yashmak_ ready to be slipped on at the approach of the men before
whom she must appear veiled. Her bare feet were thrust into scarlet
slippers, and as she moved silver anklets were visible, hanging
loosely over slim, brown ankles. Shuffling slightly, yet with an
erectly graceful carriage, the girl led the way into the ante-room
again, pulled open one of the closed doors in the opposite wall and
passed up an encased staircase wrapped in darkness. They emerged
into the dusk of a long, dim hall, where hanging lamps from the
ceiling shed a mild luster and a strong smell of oil, and passing
one or two doors on the right, the maid pushed, open one that was
rich in old gilding.
Crossing the threshold Arlee felt that she was crossing the
centuries again into her own time.
The room was a glitter of white and rose; the windows, unscreened,
admitted the warm glow of late afternoon, and windows and doorway
and bed were smothered in rose and white hangings. A white
triple-mirrored dressing-table gleamed with gold and ivory pieces; a
white fur rug was stretched before a rose silk divan billowy with
plump pillows, and an open door beyond gave a view of shining tile
and a porcelain bath. Near her was a baby grand piano in white
enamel--reminding her of one she had seen in the White House--and
she noted absently a pile of gaudily covered music upon it
betokening tunes different from the Brahms she had heard downstairs.
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