“You won’t catch me coming out here again,” she declared, “until the Company has built its light railway. Five days of blinkin’ torture! – that’s what it’s been. And to think that five hours by train would have done it…!”
Muriel looked at her in dismay. “I’d much rather not think we were so near Cairo as that,” she answered. “The whole pleasure of the thing is that we’re so cut off from civilization.”
Kate groaned. “Well, I’m glad to say I’ve brought a bit of civilization with me in the shape of a pot of ointment and a roll of lint.”
Her further remarks, however, were checked by her efforts to pull in her camel; for the west wind had brought to its nostrils the scent of vegetation, and its pace had suddenly increased.
Muriel turned in her saddle as her own beast hurried forward, and waved her hand excitedly to Mr. Bindane, who was holding on to his pommels with both hands, his head wobbling, and his body swaying.
As they neared their destination the police officer overtook her, and directed her towards the south end of the Oasis, where, a little removed from the palm-groves, some whitewashed buildings were clustered together. He explained that these formed the headquarters of the Frontier Patrol, near which their camp would be pitched; and soon he had galloped ahead, followed by one of his troopers, to herald their arrival.
The sun was setting when at last the party dismounted within the walled compound of the outpost; and it was dark before the baggage caravan came creaking and grunting into the circle of light cast by the lanterns of the police. Kate and her husband had at once gone into the bare-walled room which had been placed at their disposal; but Muriel, who was experiencing an extraordinary sense of activity, went out with the dragoman to supervise the erection of the tents in the open desert some little distance from the buildings.
For some time she lent a hand to the work, but at length she sat herself down upon a derelict packing-case, and watched the figures moving to and fro, now lit up by the flickering light of the lanterns, now passing again into the darkness.
The evening was warm, for the month of March had begun; and there was not that sharp tingle in the air which had been experienced up in the high ground they had lately traversed. On her one hand there were the dark palm-groves, their branches silhouetted against the brilliant stars: she could hear the rustling of the leaves, and there came to her ears, also, the sound of a flute, the notes rising and falling in plaintive inconsequence like babbling water in a forest at night. On her other hand the open desert lay obscure and mysterious, the darkness made more intense by contrast with the flicker of the lanterns and the light issuing from the open doorways of the adjacent buildings.
It was so strange to feel that she was separated from El Hamrân, and from the man she loved, by no more than thirty miles – an easy day’s ride to the southwest; and her heart was restless as she realized that Mr. Bindane proposed to make an extended tour of the northern Oases before getting into touch with Daniel. It seemed to her that she could not tolerate another day of absence from him; and a wild thought entered her mind that she would give her friends the slip next morning and ride alone to El Hamrân. It was, indeed, the thought of such an escapade which sent her presently hurrying back to the light of the outpost, as though in flight from the mad suggestions of the starlit spaces about her.
The evening meal was served in the room where Mr. and Mrs. Bindane had settled themselves; and it was still early when they went to their tents. Muriel was already yawning loudly, as she helped Kate to doctor herself; and no sooner was she alone than she crawled into bed, and, in spite of the barking of the dogs, the lowing of the cattle, and the braying of a donkey; fell instantly asleep.
On the following morning Benifett Bindane displayed unwonted briskness, and, after an early breakfast, set out with the native officials to make a tour of inspection of the Oasis. His plan was to continue his journey next day to the large Oasis of El Arâbah, to the northwest, where he would spend the night. Then, returning to El Homra, where they were at present, he would ride northwards on a tour which would occupy twelve or thirteen days; and that being accomplished, he would, if necessary, visit El Hamrân where Daniel was staying, though he had now received the latter’s very full reply to the questions on which he had desired information.
When he got back to the camp, however, after his first day’s work, he found that his wife and Lady Muriel had made certain plans of their own, consequent upon Kate’s abrasions. They had decided to remain where they were while Mr. Bindane paid his short visit to El Arâbah; and it was hoped that on his return his wife would be sufficiently recovered to go north with him on his longer trip.
He received the news with apparent indifference, merely remarking that he would take with him on this short trip only one servant and one tent, leaving the remainder of the camp where it was, under the care of the two dragomans. The Bedouin of the Oases were a peaceful, law-abiding people; and the two ladies would be as safe here, he well knew, as they would be in an English village at home.
That night, after Muriel had gone to her bed, Kate Bindane took her husband into her confidence.
“I don’t know what’s going on in Muriel’s head,” she told him, “but it seems to me that she’s about the most love-sick creature I’ve ever struck. She won’t even look in any other direction except the southwest, because that’s where her Daniel is.”
A slight expression of interest came into her husband’s blank face. He was sitting in his striped pyjamas on the side of his bed, scratching himself dreamily; but now he paused and his arms fell loosely upon his pointed knees. “I thought,” he said, “she had got over all that. She has been jolly enough all the way here.”
“Yes,” answered Kate, “but now that she’s within a day’s ride of her young man, she seems to have come over all funny-like. I can’t make her out.” She waited a moment. “Wouldn’t it be possible for us to go to El Hamrân before we make the northern trip?” she asked, poking the wick of the candle, absently, with the stump of a match.
Her husband shook his head. “No,” he replied. “The plans are all fixed. And, you see, I don’t suppose Mr. Lane will give me more than a couple of days of his time just now; and I’d rather have it at the end of my tour, when I know what I’m talking about, than now when I hav’n’t yet seen the lie of the land. I want to be able to come to him with a definite offer.”
He relapsed into silence for some time, resuming his leisurely scratching; but at length he surprised his wife by asking a further question as to Muriel’s state of mind.
“Why, Benifett,” she said, smiling upon him, “you seem quite interested. You know, I believe you’re rather a sport, after all.”
He looked at her with his mouth open. “Oh, it’s a recognized maxim of the commercial world,” he answered: “‘Make yourself a party to the love affairs of your business friends.’”
“But Muriel isn’t a business friend,” said Kate.
“No,” he replied, “but her father is.” And with that enigmatical remark, he blew out the candle.
At sunrise next day he was up and about; and an hour later he had assembled his party for the start upon their journey. Kate and Muriel watched them as they filed out of the compound in front of the police buildings, in the brilliant light of the morning.
“Tomorrow evening, probably,” called Mr. Bindane, waving his hand to them; and, “No hurry,” replied Kate, casually: “we’ll be quite all right.”
With that he moved away, riding with the fat Egyptian from the Ministry of Agriculture. Behind him followed the police-officer and the native secretary, and after them went their servants and baggage camels.
As the cavalcade passed out of sight behind the palm-trees, Kate turned to her friend. “Now for a quiet time with the ointment pot,” she laughed; but her words were checked as she observed the surprising expression on Muriel’s face. “Why, what’s the matter?” she exclaimed.
Muriel caught hold of her arm. “Kate,” she said, “I’m going to shock you. I’m going to Daniel.”
Mrs. Bindane stood perfectly still, her hands upon her hips in the manner of a fishwife. “What the Hell d’you mean?” she asked.
Muriel confronted her, the monkey expression suddenly developing upon her face – her jaw set, her eyes wide open. “I’m going to leave you, Kate,” she said. “I made up my mind in the night. I can’t bear it another moment: I’m going to start at once.”
“Don’t be a damned fool,” her friend ejaculated, angrily.
Muriel shrugged her shoulders. “I shall take my dragoman with me,” she went on. “He knows all the roads hereabouts. I shall be quite safe. I’m going to Daniel for a fortnight: I’ve thought it all out, and I know now that’s what he’s been wanting me to do. You’ll find me at El Hamrân when you come there – if you do come, and, if not, I’ll join you here.”
“But, my good idiot,” cried her friend, “there’ll be the most awful scandal! What d’you think Benifett will say?”
“I’ll leave that for you to find out,” she answered. “I don’t see Master Benifett changing his plans for anybody. You can say I was ill, and therefore went off to Daniel so that I shouldn’t spoil your trip or delay you. Father need never know, and I’m sure Benifett won’t give me away. Not that a scandal isn’t just what he wants. Doesn’t he want to oblige Daniel to remain here in the Oases? – Oh, but I know what I’m doing. Daniel never wanted to marry me: he wanted me to run away with him.”
“Yes, but where are you going to run to?”
“To seed,” Muriel replied, with a little laugh. “I can’t help it. He’s won: I can’t stay away from him. I’m going to have this fortnight with him, if I hang for it!”
“Oh, you’re mad!” exclaimed Kate, and, clutching hold of Muriel’s arm, she led her into her tent.
Here they argued the matter to and fro; but it was apparent from the first that the thing was irrevocably sealed, and that all the details of the plan had been thought out so as to prevent the adventure becoming public.
“Very possibly there’ll be no scandal at all,” said Muriel; “the natives can be bribed not to tell. I shall come back with you to Cairo when you return there, and who is going to give me away?”
“But what is a fortnight?” asked Kate, in despair. “Good God! – what is a fortnight, when it means even the possible ruin of your whole life?”
“I can’t look so far ahead,” Muriel replied. “I only know I want him now. And I’m going to him, Kate; I’m going to the man I love, the man who loves me!”
She ran out of the tent, calling to her dragoman, Mustafa, who appeared at once from the domestic quarters. He received the news without perturbation.
“Yes, my leddy,” he said. “I varry pleased. My wife’s brother him live at El Hamrân. Thirty mile’ – it is nudding: five, six hours riding; and the road him varry good, varry straight.”
She told him to get two camels ready at once, to fill the water-bottles, collect a few eatables, and – to hold his tongue. “I have to take some important papers over to Mr. Lane,” she said, and he smiled at the lie.
Her large dressing-case was already packed; but, returning to her tent, she opened it to put into it her little revolver, which, for the fun of the thing, she had purchased in Cairo. This done, she went back to Kate, who received her in cold silence.
“Oh, Kate,” she cried, “don’t be beastly to me. I’m only going to do the sort of thing that’s been done by most of the girls we know. It’s human nature, Kate. When you love a man and feel you absolutely can’t live without him, you’ve got to surrender to him and do what he wants; and I know now that this is what he’s been asking me to do all along.” She put her arms about her neck, and kissed her.
Kate looked at her sorrowfully, and her face softened. “Muriel, you blinkin’ idiot,” she said, “I don’t know what’ll come of this, but whatever happens, old bean, I’m with you.”
CHAPTER XXV – BREAKING LOOSE
The road, or rather camel-track, from El Homra to El Hamrân passes across a wide plain of comparatively flat sand, which looks like the bed of a vast lake from which the waters have been drained off. It is a huge hollow separated by high ground from the smaller basin in which the former oasis is situated. Ranges of hills form the boundaries of this area, those to the east being high and many-peaked, the others low and undulating; and from one side of the plain to the other must be something like twenty miles. There are three wells between the two oases, the second being practically in the centre of the plain, and marking the half-way point of the journey.
Muriel and her dragoman reached this well at about one o’clock, when the sun was almost directly overhead and the glare intense. It was a deep pool not more than a dozen feet from side to side; but in the clear water the blue of the sky was so vividly reflected that Muriel, as she stood staring down into it, had the impression that the earth was flat and that she was looking through a hole into further spaces of empty air beneath.
A few yards distant there were some tamarisks, providing a little patch of shade, almost as blue as the sky and water; and a stone’s throw away there was a hillock of sand upon which grew a few low and dusty bushes. With these exceptions there was no vegetation to be seen, and the sand stretched out in all directions, barren and dazzling, until the surface was lost in vaporous mirage, so that the far-off hills looked like islands floating above the haze.
She called her dragoman to her. “Mustafa,” she said, “I’m going to bathe. You must go and sit behind that hillock over there, and you mustn’t move till I tell you you may.”
Servants in the East are ever accustomed to be told to take themselves off in this fashion, when their native mistresses desire to amuse themselves; and he now received his orders from the daughter of the foreign ruler of Egypt without surprise. He quickly filled the water-bottles from the pool, and, telling her that he would prepare the luncheon on the other side of the hillock, walked off across the sand.
As soon as she was alone, Muriel divested herself of her clothes in the shelter of the tamarisks, and plunged into the cool water. Never in her life had she felt so boisterously, recklessly happy; never before had she realized how cramped her existence had been. Here in these empty spaces of the world she was like a child with all the delights of the open garden to herself; and presently she would slip into the next garden and greet there her playmate.
As she splashed in the water she learned for the first time the wonderful sensation of bathing without the weight of a costume about her limbs; and her thoughts flashed back with disdain to those elegant days at fashionable seaside resorts where she had almost feared to let the waves wet her dainty bathing-dress, and where she had been aware of opera glasses levelled upon her as she walked sedately into the sea.
From side to side of the little pool she swam, tossing the water into the air in showers of sparkling drops; and, presently, when, clambering back on to the sand, she stood with arms stretched out to the sunlight, she felt that at last she knew the meaning of life.
The hot sun dried her body, without much need of the aid of her handkerchief; and when she was dressed she hastened with a wonderful appetite to her luncheon. Mustafa, being a well-trained dragoman, did not trouble her with his presence; and she was thus able to make very frank inroads into the tongue and sweet-pickles, the biscuits and the jam, which he had provided. And after the meal she lay back in the shade, against the slope of the sand, and slept for half an hour in profound content.
She awoke with the conviction that at last all was well with her. It seemed to her that what Daniel had all along desired was that she should renounce “the World,” as he called it, and come to him; and now, in these last few days, she had realized that this was no renunciation at all. He had been perfectly right: a life in the open was the only life for Youth; and here, not in the cities, real happiness was to be found.
All he had asked of her was to break loose from her conventional existence, and to come to him; and now she knew how incomprehensible her reluctance must have seemed to him. He had been holding out to her the free joys of her youth: he had been saying to her, “Come and be my playmate and my dear companion,” and when she had refused, he had gone off by himself, bidding her follow him if at last she should shake herself free of her imaginary bonds. How stupid to him, how vulgar, must have been her wish for a correct betrothal! – no wonder he had given up in dismay.
Such thoughts occupied her brain during the afternoon as she trotted exultantly, and with wild and reckless freedom from all restraint, towards El Hamrân; but very different were the thoughts in the mind of Daniel Lane, as, all unaware of her proximity, he sat peacefully in his room, putting the finishing touches to his interrupted study of the customs of the Bedouin of the Oases.
In a manner it might be said that he was content. He had fought a terrible battle with himself during these five-and-twenty days since he had left Cairo, and his mighty spirit had won the victory over his mutinous body. Like a monk abandoning the pleasures of the world, he had crushed within him the one passionate episode of his continent life.
Throughout his strenuous manhood he had put away from him the call of the flesh: he had mastered his body, and had subordinated all other interests to those of his work. In a sense he had lived the life of an ascetic, save that he had not actually mortified his body. He had governed and controlled his physical instincts, but he had found no need to break them with rods. In perfect health, in perfect physical fitness, he had passed his days, filled with that deep, laughing happiness which comes from a quiet mind. His gigantic muscles were ever ruled by his mighty reason; and serene, smiling tranquillity had been his reward.
It was only since Muriel had come into his life that he had known any disturbance; for she was practically the first woman with whom he had ever been on intimate terms. And when she had failed him he had beaten out the very thought of her from his riotous heart, and had fled to the placid sanctuary of the desert, there to recover his equanimity.
To him she had seemed to be tainted by her contact with that section of society whose artificiality he so heartily disliked. These people paid outward court to the conventions of life, but in secret they treated in the lightest manner the very bases upon which these conventions were founded. Being satisfied with the surface of things, they lived their lives in turmoil and called it pleasure; nor had they any idea of that deeper happiness which comes from contact with fundamental truth and simplicity.
And Muriel had been as blind as the blindest of them. She only played with life – skimmed over the surface, snatching at such pleasures as lay to hand.
If she had turned her back on her dances and her parties, and had come to him and had said, “Take me into the desert for ever,” he would have believed in her love, and nothing could have held them apart; but, whether correctly or incorrectly he knew not, he had had the impression that she had wished to fill but an idle hour with the sweets of love, just as, so it seemed to him, all fair women of Mayfair were wont to do.
Therefore he had come back to the clear and open spaces of the desert; and here, in the ruined monastery which for so long had been his home, he had sought and found once more his peace of mind. In a few weeks’ time he would return to Cairo; but in future he would arrange to receive his Egyptian visitors away from the Residency, at some house in the native quarter where he could work without distraction.
As he sat writing in his shirt-sleeves at his table near the window and the sun was descending towards the horizon, his attention was attracted by the barking of his dogs, and he wondered whether some native from the village had come to see him. He was concerned just now in regard to the growing quarrel between the two main families of the Oasis, and visits were frequently paid to him by persons connected with the great feud.
The barking, however, presently ceased abruptly, and therewith he went on with his work. The room was large, and the loud chattering of the sparrows in the palms outside the window prevented him from hearing the opening of the door behind him. He was not aware that his servant, Hussein, had entered, agog with excitement; nor did he see Muriel, who, followed him, as she waved him out of the room, and shut the door behind her.
It was only when she was close to him that he heard the footstep and looked around.
He sprang to his feet. “Muriel!” he exclaimed, as he stared at her in astonishment.
She did not speak. She ran to him, and, throwing her hands around his neck, was lifted from the ground in his arms. For a few moments she did nothing but kiss him – she rained kisses on his mouth and his bewildered face in a very frenzy of love, so that he gasped. Then her hands, slipping from behind his neck, passed over his forehead and his cheeks, and through his hair, patting him and stroking him; while her hat fell off, unnoticed, and her feet dangled above the ground, vainly seeking for foothold in the vicinity of his shins.
At last, having been lowered to the ground, she stood before him, her hands held in his, her face flushed, her hair falling down.
“Oh, my darling,” she cried, “I couldn’t live without you any longer. I’ve broken loose: I’ve run away and come to you.”
And, as his arms went about her once more, nigh crushing the breath out of her, she shut her eyes and received his answering kisses in passionate glorious silence.