CHAPTER XIII
THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX
Moonlight in the desert.
Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the piazza of the hotel, thatshe might lose as little as possible of the mystic loveliness of thenight. The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear whitelight; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more mystery.
Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight presently. Meanwhileshe lay back in a low wicker chair, comfortably upholstered, sippingher coffee, and giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which,in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion.
Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came to her this evening,perhaps brought about by the associations of moonlight.
"The moon shines bright:--in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise--"
Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart of a vivid reminderto the senses. Jane now passed beneath the spell.
To begin with, Garth's voice seemed singing everywhere:
"Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight."
Then from out the deep blue and silvery light, Garth's dear adoringeyes seemed watching her. Jane closed her own, to see them better.To-night she did not feel like shrinking from them, they were so fullof love.
No shade of critical regard was in them. Ah! had she wronged him withher fears for the future? Her heart seemed full of trust to-night, fullof confidence in him and in herself. It seemed to her that if he werehere she could go out with him into this brilliant moonlight, seatherself upon some ancient fallen stone, and let him kneel in front ofher and gaze and gaze in his persistent way, as much as he pleased. Inthought there seemed to-night no shrinking from those dear eyes. Shefelt she would say: "It is all your own, Garth, to look at when youwill. For your sake, I could wish it beautiful; but if it is as youlike it, my own Dear, why should I hide it from you?"
What had brought about this change of mind? Had Deryck's prescriptiondone its full work? Was this a saner point of view than the one she hadfelt constrained to take when she arrived, through so much agony ofrenunciation, at her decision? Instead of going up the Nile, and thento Constantinople and Athens, should she take the steamer which sailedfrom Alexandria to-morrow, be in London a week hence, send for Garth,make full confession, and let him decide as to their future?
That he loved her still, it never occurred to Jane to doubt. At thevery thought of sending for him and telling him the simple truth, heseemed so near her once more, that she could feel the clasp of hisarms, and his head upon her heart. And those dear shining eyes! Oh,Garth, Garth!
"One thing is clear to me to-night," thought Jane. "If he still needsme--wants me--I cannot live any longer away from him. I must go tohim." She opened her eyes and looked towards the Sphinx. The whole lineof reasoning which had carried such weight at Shenstone flashed throughher mind in twenty seconds. Then she closed her eyes again and claspedher hands upon her bosom.
"I will risk it," she said; and deep joy awoke within her heart.
A party of English people came from the dining-room on to the piazzawith a clatter. They had arrived that evening and gone in late todinner. Jane had hardly noticed them,--a handsome woman and herdaughter, two young men, and an older man of military appearance. Theydid not interest Jane, but they broke in upon her reverie; for theyseated themselves at a table near by and, in truly British fashion,continued a loud-voiced conversation, as if no one else were present.One or two foreigners, who had been peacefully dreaming over coffee andcigarettes, rose and strolled away to quiet seats under the palm trees.Jane would have done the same, but she really felt too comfortable tomove, and afraid of losing the sweet sense of Garth's nearness. So sheremained where she was.
The elderly man held in his hand a letter and a copy of the MORNINGPOST, just received from England. They were discussing news containedin the letter and a paragraph he had been reading aloud from the paper.
"Poor fellow! How too sad!" said the chaperon of the party.
"I should think he would sooner have been killed outright!" exclaimedthe girl. "I know I would."
"Oh, no," said one of the young men, leaning towards her. "Life issweet, under any circumstances."
"Oh, but blind!" cried the young voice, with a shudder. "Quite blindfor the rest of one's life. Horrible!"
"Was it his own gun?" asked the older woman. "And how came they to behaving a shooting party in March?"
Jane smiled a fierce smile into the moonlight. Passionate love ofanimal life, intense regard for all life, even of the tiniest insect,was as much a religion with her as the worship of beauty was withGarth. She never could pretend sorrow over these accounts of shootingaccidents, or falls in the hunting-field. When those who went out toinflict cruel pain were hurt themselves; when those who went forth totake eager, palpitating life, lost their own; it seemed to Jane a justretribution. She felt no regret, and pretended none. So now she smiledfiercely to herself, thinking: "One pair of eyes the less to look alonga gun and frustrate the despairing dash for home and little ones of aterrified little mother rabbit. One hand that will never again change asoaring upward flight of spreading wings, into an agonised mass offalling feathers. One chance to the good, for the noble stag, as hemakes a brave run to join his hinds in the valley."
Meanwhile the military-looking man had readjusted his eye-glasses andwas holding the sheets of a closely written letter to the light.
"No," he said after a moment, "shooting parties are over. There isnothing doing on the moors now. They were potting bunnies."
"Was he shooting?" asked the girl.
"No," replied the owner of the letter, "and that seems such hard luck.He had given up shooting altogether a year or two ago. He never reallyenjoyed it, because he so loved the beauty of life and hated death inevery form. He has a lovely place in the North, and was up therepainting. He happened to pass within sight of some fellowsrabbit-shooting, and saw what he considered cruelty to a woundedrabbit. He vaulted over a gate to expostulate and to save the littlecreature from further suffering. Then it happened. One of the lads,apparently startled, let off his gun. The charge struck a tree a fewyards off, and the shot glanced. It did not strike him full. The faceis only slightly peppered and the brain quite uninjured. But shotspierced the retina of each eye, and the sight is hopelessly gone."
"Awful hard luck," said the young man.
"I never can understand a chap not bein' keen on shootin'," said theyouth who had not yet spoken.
"Ah, but you would if you had known him," said the soldier. "He was sofull of life and vivid vitality. One could not imagine him either dyingor dealing death. And his love of the beautiful was almost a form ofreligious worship. I can't explain it; but he had a way of making yousee beauty in things you had hardly noticed before. And now, poor chap,he can't see them himself."
"Has he a mother?" asked the older woman.
"No, he has no one. He is absolutely alone. Scores of friends ofcourse; he was a most popular man about town, and could stay in almostany house in the kingdom if he chose to send a post-card to say he wascoming. But no relations, I believe, and never would marry. Poor chap!He will wish he had been less fastidious, now. He might have had thepick of all the nicest girls, most seasons. But not he! Just charmingfriendships, and wedded to his art. And now, as Lady Ingleby, says, helies in the dark, helpless and alone."
"Oh, do talk of something else!" cried the girl, pushing back her chairand rising. "I want to forget it. It's too horribly sad. Fancy what itmust be to wake up and not know whether it is day or night, and to haveto lie in the dark and wonder. Oh, do come out and talk of somethingcheerful."
They all rose, and the young man slipped his hand through the girl'sarm, glad of the excuse her agitation provided.
"Forget it, dear," he said softly. "Come on out and see the old Sphinxby moonlight."
They left the piazza, followed by the rest of the party; but the man to
whom the MORNING POST belonged laid it on the table and stayed behind,lighting a cigar.
Jane rose from her chair and came towards him.
"May I look at your paper?" she said abruptly.
"Certainly," he replied, with ready courtesy. Then, looking moreclosely at her: "Why, certainly, Miss Champion. And how do you do? Idid not know you were in these parts."
"Ah, General Loraine! Your face seemed familiar, but I had notrecognised you, either. Thanks, I will borrow this if I may. And don'tlet me keep you from your friends. We shall meet again by and by."
Jane waited until the whole party had passed out of sight and until thesound of their voices and laughter had died away in the distance. Thenshe returned to her chair, the place where Garth had seemed so near.She looked once more at the Sphinx and at the huge pyramid in themoonlight.
Then she took up the paper and opened it.
"Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight."
Yes--it was Garth Dalmain--HER Garth, of the adoring shining eyes--wholay at his house in the North; blind, helpless, and alone.