themselves to her! She caught him up as he
passed her. He struggled, turned in her arms, and then became passive,
breathing loudly.

She climbed the rough steps and sat down on the topmost one to think.

She was surrounded with old evidences of her sorrow. Nor was there any
cheer before her. Escape was in prospect, but it was liberty without
light or peace--a gray freedom without hope, purpose or fruit. Her
retrospect gradually brightened, never to brilliance but to a soft
luminance, brightest at the farthermost point and sad like the dying
daylight. She summarized her griefs--danger, death, suspense, shame
and long hopelessness. The lonely girl's stock of unhappiness took her
breath away and she pushed back the wimple as if to clear away the
oppression.

Anubis realized his moment of freedom was short and with an instant
bound he was out and gone.

In no little dismay Rachel started in pursuit, but she had not moved
ten paces from the bottom of the steps before she paused, transfixed.

An Egyptian, not Pepi, was hauling a boat into the reeds. The craft
secure, he turned up the slant, walking rapidly.

There was no mistaking that commanding stature.

Anubis descended on him like an arrow. The man saw the ape, halted a
fraction of an instant, caught sight of Rachel, and with a cry, his
arms flung wide, broke into a run toward her.

The ape bounded for his shoulder, but missed and alighted at one side,
chattering raucously. The running man did not pause.

The world revolved slowly about Rachel, and the sustaining structure of
her frame seemed to lose its rigidity. She put out her hands, blindly,
and they were caught and clasped about Kenkenes' neck. And there in
the strong support of his tightening arms, her face hidden against the
leaping heart, all time and matters of the world drifted away. In
their place was only a vast content, featureless and full of soft dusk
and warmth.

Gone were all the demure resolutions, the memory of faith or unfaith.
Nothing was patent to her except that this was the man she loved and he
had returned from the dead.

Presently she became vaguely aware that he was speaking. Though a
little unsteady and subdued, it was the same melody of voice that she
seemed to have known from the cradle.

"Rachel! Rachel!" he was saying, "why didst thou not go to my father
as I bade thee? Nay, I do not chide thee. The joy of finding thee
hath healed me of the wrench when I fou