age to others?"

"Why not?--in another manner. These holy men in Egypt who feel
compelled to give up their lives to preaching and praying, and who
travel from desert-town to desert-town, calling on the people to
worship the one and only God--who knows what the manner of their call
was, or how God came to them?"

"Then you think that God came to-night, in this valley, in the form of
Akhnaton, to you through me?"

"I certainly do. Akhnaton, like Christ, became divine. We could all
be divine if we allowed ourselves to be."

"Good-night," Meg said, for Freddy was shouting again. "It's late, and
I'm afraid I am too matter-of-fact and far too materialistic to follow
your ideas and beliefs."

"I wish I followed what I believe," Mike said. "On a night like this
you can't help believing that God is in the yellow sand and in the blue
sky and in the beautiful stillness. He is in you and me and around us.
The hills look very holy, don't they? But to-morrow it will be so easy
to forget, to take everything for granted, or to behave as if chance
had produced God's world." He held her hand for one moment longer than
was necessary. "One is so closely in touch with the beauty of God
here, Meg. In busy Luxor or Cairo, or in any city, material things are
the things that matter. God is forgotten, set aside . . . man's
ingenuity is so much more obvious."

"I know," Meg said. "Do you wonder at hermits and saints?" She smiled
a beautiful "Good-night."

When she was alone in her room, she opened Maspero's _Dawn of
Civilization_, which Freddy had placed there for her. She turned over
its pages idly. "I wonder if I should find anything about Akhnaton
here," she said, "or if this is too early history?"

Suddenly she closed the book. "No, I won't--I will keep my promise. I
won't read anything about him."

She paused and thought for a few moments: her brain was too active for
sleep, her nerves too much on edge, so instead of reading about
Akhnaton, who is known in history as Amenhotep IV., the heretic
Pharaoh, she knelt down and prayed to his God, beginning with the old
familiar words, "Our Father, which art in heaven," for He is the same
God yesterday, to-day and for ever, the God of whom Akhnaton said, "He
makes the young sheep to dance upon their hind legs, and the birds to
flutter in the marshes," and as a modern writer said of Him, "The God
of the simple pleasures of life, Whose symbol was the sun's disc, just
as it