of the
XII dynasty, to meet and part and meet again.

Then she tackled the untoward situation in the only possible way.

"Will you, as you promised, if the hour is come, tell me the tale of
the Hawk of Egypt?"

She spoke sweetly, softly, switching out the light.

And Hugh Carden Ali crossed the intervening square of sand, which,
however, being one-half his heritage, stretched an impregnable barrier
between them, and sank to the ground beside her.

The perfume of her raiment was about him, the sound of her breathing in
his ears; all the love and worship of his heart was hers. Yet he
merely lifted the hem of her cloak to his lips.

The shadows pressed down upon them as he spoke, quietly, his voice
echoing strangely in the Temple of the Gods.

"Behold, the Hawk of Egypt looked forth from the shadows of the
mountain fastness, and nothing stirred in the earth or upon the face of
the waters.

"Wrong had been wrought and the anger of the gods was as clouds
loosened from their hands.

"And behold, as the first sun-ray pierced the fury of the storm, the
mighty bird spread wide its wings, which were as of ruby and of emerald
and of onyx and of gold as they glistened in the sun, and sailed upon
the wind of the morning down towards the plains.

"And as he passed, glittering like a jewel in the crown of Osiris,
those of his kind, screaming defiance, spread their wings and hastened
west and east.

"They would have none of him, for beneath the mighty pinions showed the
white plumage of another race.

"And in the radiant light of day there came from the southern plains a
white bird, crossing the hawk's path as a snowflake driven by Destiny
across the desert wastes; and he encircled her, lifting her upon the
wind of his great pinions higher, higher yet towards the eyrie in the
solitary mountain peak.

"And as they mounted, those of his kind and those of her kind, who had
followed, battled with him, for he was outcast from the one and the
other. And the mist, which was the anger of the gods, closed
down . . ."

The shadows seemed to deepen as the quiet voice stopped.

"And--" said Damaris gently, "--the end?"

"That is on the lap of the gods."

"I do not understand!"

She had not caught the end of Lady Thistleton's chatter, else would she
have been able to interpret the little story, and the man, who had
thought that his parents' mixed marriage was a common subject for
gossip in the hotel--which it was--sprang