Book of Life written, printed and published by
Fate. "If it pleases you to stay when I am gone, will you do so just
as long as you find happiness in my dwelling?"

"You are going, Hugh,--so soon--for long?"

"There has come a report of lion in the Nubian Desert, as far north as
Deir el-Bahari. I can hardly believe it, for it is years and years
since a lion has been seen even in the Khor Baraka. However, a runner
from Nubia came in this morning, so there may be something in it. God
grant it, for the sport and the danger would be great, killing or being
killed, in the rocks and ruins of the Temple. Also I could visit my
Tents of Purple and of Gold. How long shall I be gone, sweet Mother?
That is known only to Allah, to whom our goings and our comings are as
the drifting of the sands."

"Your tents are very beautiful, my son. The servants are waiting for
your orders before pitching the--the--middle one. Without asking
permission, I went to inspect them. Just before your return, just to
see if everything was quite all right. One can never quite trust the
servants."

Jill might have been sitting on a rectory lawn, talking about her
linen-cupboard or spring-cleaning with a neighbour, instead of one of
the wonders of modern Egypt. In fact, so quaint was it that the man
laughed and swung her onto the balustrade.

"I'm not surprised Father worships the ground your ridiculous little
feet tread on, Mater," he said, causing his mother to gasp, so English
did he sound, so Oriental did he look.

"Dear!" she said gently, as she scrutinised him with a mother's eyes
and touched his face and patted his cheek and pulled a bit here and
there at his fine white linen coat, upon which in coarse thread was
embroidered the Hawk of Old Egypt. "Dear! don't you think you would be
happier if you were to marry and--settle down?"

And it was then that there came to her the full explanation of the hurt
reflected in her firstborn's eyes.

"I shall never marry, dear," very gently replied the man, so fearful
was he of causing pain to the woman who had borne him. "I--I--you see,
I cannot."

"Cannot, Hugh? But, my dear, what is the matter? You will have to,
some day, you know. You are your father's eldest son," answered the
woman, who, wrapped in perfect love and happiness, had never given a
thought to the far-reaching effects of her marriage with the Arabian.
"Dear son, there are so many beautiful, cultured, gentle women here a