es, there was a cause--what Mrs. Armine was, and was actually doing.
Truth often manifests itself, how no one can say, not even she who sees
it. Mrs. Armine knew this at evening when she saw her maid's eyes, and
she wished she had brought with her an unintelligent English maid.

And then, from the Fayyum, a shadow fell over her--the shadow of her
husband.

Eight days after her meeting with Baroudi among the flame-coloured rocks
she was taken by Ibrahim and Hamza to the orange-gardens up the river
which Baroudi had mentioned to Nigel. They lay on the western bank of
the Nile, between Luxor and Armant, and at a considerable distance from
Luxor. But it chanced that the wind was fair, and blew with an unusual
briskness from the north. The sailors set the great lateen sails of the
felucca, which bellied out like things leaping into life. The
greenish-brown water curled and whispered about the prow, and the
minarets of Luxor seemed to retreat swiftly from Mrs. Armine's eyes, as
if hastening from her with the desire to be lost among the palm-trees.
As the boat drew on and on, and reach after reach of the river was left
behind, she began to wonder about this expedition.

"Where are we going?" she asked of Ibrahim.

"To a noo place," he answered, composedly. "To a very pretty place, a
very nice place."

"We must not go too far," she said, rather doubtfully. "I must not be
very late in getting back."

She was thinking at the moment angrily of Marie. If only Marie were not
in the Villa Androud! She had no fear of the Nubian servants. They were
all devoted to her. Already she had begun to consider them as her--not
Nigel's--black slaves. But that horrid little intelligent, untrustworthy
French girl--

"I have tell the French mees we are goin' to see a temple in the
mountains--a temple that is wonderful indeed, all full of Rameses. I
have tell her we may be late."

Mrs. Armine looked sharply into the boy's gentle, shining eyes.

"Yes; but we must be back in good time," she said.

And her whole nature, accustomed to the liberty that lies outside the
pale, chafed against this small obligation. Suddenly she came to a
resolve. She would get rid of Marie--send her back to Europe. How was
she to manage without a maid? She could not imagine, and at this moment
she did not care. She would get rid of Marie and--Suddenly a smile came
to her lips.

"Why do you larf?" asked Ibrahim.

"Because it is so fine, because I'm happy," she