She tried to smile at this absurdity, but her lips refused to obey her will.
"Who should he come for?" she asked.
"I dunno. P"raps he come to meet my Lord Arminigel. It is bad night to-night. Mohammed him die to-night. Him die on the night from Sunday Monday."
He drooped morosely and went out, softly closing the door behind him.
As soon as he had gone Mrs. Armine undressed, leaving her clothes scattered pell-mell all over the room, and got into her bed. She kept the lamp burning. She was afraid of the dark, and she knew she would not sleep. Although she laughed at Egyptian superst.i.tion, as she glanced about the room she was half unconsciously looking for the shadowy form of a ginnee. All night the wind roared, and all night she lay awake, wondering, fearing, planning, imagining, in terror of the future, yet calling upon her adroitness, her strong fund of resolution, to shape it as she willed.
And she would have helpers--Baroudi, Ibrahim, Hamza.
When at dawn the wind died down, and at last slumber, like a soft wave, came stealing over her, the last thing she saw with her imagination was Hamza, straight, enigmatic, grave, holding an upright wand in his hand.
Or was it the ginnee, who had come in out of the night to meet "my lord Arminigel"?
What was that? Was it the ginnee moving, speaking?
Was it--? There had surely been a movement in the room, a sound. She opened her eyes, and saw sunshine and some one by the bed.
"Ruby!"
She blinked, stared, lying perfectly still.
"Ruby!"
She felt a hand on one of her hands. The touch finally recalled her from sleep, and she knew the morning and Nigel. He stood beside the bed in loose travelling clothes, dusty, with short, untidy hair, and a radiant brown face, looking down on her, holding her hand.
"Did I frighten you? I didn"t mean to. But I thought you must be awake by now."
There was no sound of reproach in his voice, but there was perhaps just a touch of disappointment. She sat up, leaning against the big pillow.
"And I meant to be at the station to meet you!" she said.
He sat down close to the bed, still keeping his hand on hers.
"You did?"
"Of course. It"s this horrid habit I"ve got into of lying awake at night and sleeping in the morning. And there was such a storm last night."
"I know. The ginnee were abroad."
He spoke laughingly, but she said:
"How did you know that?"
"How? Why, in Egypt--but what do you mean?"
But she had recovered herself, was now fully awake, fully herself, entirely freed from the thrall of the night.
"How well you look!" she said.
"Work!" he replied. "Sun--life under the tent! It"s glorious! How I want you to love it! But, I say, shan"t we have some tea together? And then I"ll jump into a bath. It"s too cold for the Nile this morning. And I"m all full of dust. I"ll ring for Marie."
He moved, but she caught his hand.
"Nigel!"
"Yes?"
"Don"t ring for Marie."
"Why not?"
"It wouldn"t be any use."
"What--is she ill!"
"She"s gone."
"Gone!"
He looked at the confusion of the room, at the clothes strewn on the furniture and the floor.
"Now I understand all that," he said. "But what was the matter? Did she steal something, or--perhaps I ought to have had another woman in the house."
"No, no; it wasn"t that. I sent her away quite amicably; because I thought she"d be in our way in the Fayyum. What could we do with her in a tent?"
"You"re going to manage without a maid?"
A radiant look of pleasure came into his face.
"You"re a trump!" he said.
He bent down, put his hands gently on her shoulders, and gave her a long kiss.
"And this is how you"re managing!" he added, lifting himself up, and speaking with a sort of tender humour as again he looked at the room. "I must learn to maid you."
And he went about rather clumsily getting the things together, picking them up by the wrong end, and laying them in a heap on the sofa.
"Ill do better another time," he said, when he had finished, rather ruefully surveying his handiwork. "And now I"ll call Ha.s.san and get tea, and while we"re having it I"ll tell you about our camp in the Fayyum. To think of your giving up your maid!"
He kissed her again, with a lingering tenderness, and went out.
As soon as he was gone she got up. She had to search for a wrapper. She did not know where any of her things were. How maddening it was to be without a maid! More than once, now that Nigel was back and she could not go to Baroudi, she almost wished that she had kept Marie. Would it have been very unwise to keep her? She pulled out drawer after drawer.
She was quite hot and tired before she had found what she wanted. What would life be like in a tent? She almost sickened at the thought of all that was before her. Ah! here was the wrapper at last. She tore it out from where it was lying with reckless violence, and put it on anyhow; then suddenly her real nature, the continuous part of her, a.s.serted itself. She went to the mirror and adjusted it very carefully, very deftly. Then she twisted up her hair simply, and considered herself for a moment.
Had the new truth stamped itself yet upon her face, her body?