f old, she
was permitted the freedom of the village, for the stockade was high and
strong and the only gates were well-guarded by day and by night; but as
of old she cared not for the companionship of the cruel Arabs and the
degraded blacks who formed the following of The Sheik, and so, as had
been her wont in the sad days of her childhood, she slunk down to an
unfrequented corner of the enclosure where she had often played at
house-keeping with her beloved Geeka beneath the spreading branches of
the great tree that had overhung the palisade; but now the tree was
gone, and Meriem guessed the reason. It was from this tree that Korak
had descended and struck down The Sheik the day that he had rescued her
from the life of misery and torture that had been her lot for so long
that she could remember no other.

There were low bushes growing within the stockade, however, and in the
shade of these Meriem sat down to think. A little glow of happiness
warmed her heart as she recalled her first meeting with Korak and then
the long years that he had cared for and protected her with the
solicitude and purity of an elder brother. For months Korak had not so
occupied her thoughts as he did today. He seemed closer and dearer now
than ever he had before, and she wondered that her heart had drifted so
far from loyalty to his memory. And then came the image of the Hon.
Morison, the exquisite, and Meriem was troubled. Did she really love
the flawless young Englishman? She thought of the glories of London,
of which he had told her in such glowing language. She tried to
picture herself admired and honored in the midst of the gayest society
of the great capital. The pictures she drew were the pictures that the
Hon. Morison had drawn for her. They were alluring pictures, but
through them all the brawny, half-naked figure of the giant Adonis of
the jungle persisted in obtruding itself.

Meriem pressed her hand above her heart as she stifled a sigh, and as
she did so she felt the hard outlines of the photograph she had hidden
there as she slunk from Malbihn's tent. Now she drew it forth and
commenced to re-examine it more carefully than she had had time to do
before. She was sure that the baby face was hers. She studied every
detail of the picture. Half hidden in the lace of the dainty dress
rested a chain and locket. Meriem puckered her brows. What
tantalizing half-memories it awakened! Could this flower of evident
civilizati