eappear.

Now, in this once so sacred place, she seemed for a moment to plunge
into the depths of herself, to penetrate into the inmost recesses of her
nature. In London, before Nigel came into her life, had she not been
like Hathor in her temple, hearing the sound of the departing feet of
those who had been her worshippers? And with Nigel had come a wild hope
of worldly eminence, of great riches, of a triumph over enemies. And
that hope had faded abruptly. Yet through her association with Nigel she
had come to another hope. And this hope must be fulfilled, before the
inevitable darkness that would fall about her beauty. Nigel would never
be the means to the end she had originally had in view. Yet his destiny
was to serve her. He had his destiny, and she hers. And hers was not a
great worldly position, or any ultimate respectability. She could not
have the first, and so she would not have the second. Perhaps she was
born for other things--born to be a votary of Venus, but not to content
any man as his lawful wife. The very word "lawful" sent a chill through
her blood now. She was meant for lawlessness, it seemed. Then she would
fulfil her destiny, without pity, without fear, but not without
discretion. And her destiny was to emerge from the trap in which she was
confined. So she believed.

Yet would she emerge? In the darkness of Hathor's sanctuary, haunted by
the face of the goddess and by the sad thoughts of deserted womanhood
which it suggested to her self-centred mind, she resolved that she would
emerge, that nothing should stop her, that she would crush down any
weakening sentiments and thoughts if they came to heart or mind. Egypt,
in which one desire had been rendered useless and finally killed in her,
had given to her another, had brought to her a last chance--she seemed
to know it was that--of happiness, of ugly yet intense joy. In Egypt she
had blossomed, fading woman though she had been. She had renewed her
powers of physical fascination. Then she must emerge from the trap and
go to fulfil her destiny. She would do so. Silently, and as if making
the vow to the Egyptian Aphrodite in the darkness of her temple, she
swore to do so. Nigel had brought her there--had he not?--that Hathor
might bless her voyage. Moved by a fierce impulse, and casting away
pity, doubt, fear, everything but flamelike desire, she called upon
Hathor to bless her voyage--not their voyage, but only hers. She called
upon the goddess of be