"If you wish. Otherwise, you needn"t. For I"ve deserved--"
"I do wish. But first, will you answer me a question?"
"I"m sure you wouldn"t ask me a question I oughtn"t to answer."
"It"s only this: Did Ernest Borrow tell you anything else about me?"
"Nothing, except his opinion of you. And you must know that, by this time."
"I think I do. Or Mrs. Jones--or Mrs. East? Neither have--for any reason--_advised_ you to apologize to me for what you very n.o.bly felt was wrong in your conduct?"
"No. Not a soul has advised me. If they _had_--"
She didn"t finish, but Biddy and I both knew the Monny-habit of conscientiously going against advice.
"Thank you. You"ve changed your opinion of me, then, without urging from outside."
"It has all come from _inside_. From recognition of--of what you are, and what you"ve done for--for us all. You"ve been a hero. And you"ve been kind as well as brave. Antoun Effendi, I think you are a very great gentleman, and I respect Egyptians for your sake."
"Wait!" said Anthony. "You haven"t heard my confession. When I first saw you on the terrace at Shepheard"s, I willed you to look at me, and you did look."
"How strange! Yes, I felt it. Something made me look. Why did you will me, Antoun Effendi?" Monny"s voice was soft. But it was not like a child"s now. It was a woman"s voice.
Listening with tingling ears, I knew what she wanted him to answer.
Perhaps he also knew, but he boldly told the truth. "It was a kind of wager I made with myself. There was some troublesome business I had to carry out in Cairo. A good deal hung upon it. I saw your profile. You didn"t turn my way, and I said to myself: "If by willing I can make that girl look at me, I"ll take it for a sign that I shall succeed in my work.""
"Oh! It was nothing to do with _me_?"
"Not then. Afterward I knew that, while I thought my own free will suggested my influencing you, it was destiny that influenced me.
Kismet! It had to happen so. But you punished me for my presumption.
You treated me as if I were a slave, a Thing that hardly had a place in your world."
"I know! That"s what I"ve asked you to forgive me for."
"And because you"ve asked me to forgive, I"m telling you this. I was furious; and I said, "She shall be sorry. I will make her sorry." My whole wish was to humble you. I wanted to conquer, and though you cla.s.sed me with servants, to be your master."
"I don"t blame you, Antoun Effendi! And you _have_ conquered, in a better way than you meant when you were angry and hating me. You"ve conquered by showing your true self. You are my friend. That"s what you want, isn"t it?--Not to be my master, when you don"t hate me any longer."
"No, that is not what I want. I still want to be your master."
"Then you _do_ hate me, even now?"
"No, I don"t hate you, Mademoiselle Gilder, although you"ve punished me over and over again for being the brute I was at first. You have conquered me, not I you. But I don"t want to be your friend. If you didn"t look at me as being a man beyond the pale, you would understand very well what I want."
"Don"t say that!" cried Monny, quickly. "Don"t say that you"re a man beyond the pale. I can"t stand it. Oh! I _do_ know what you want. I do understand. I think I should have died if you hadn"t wanted it. And yet--I could almost die because you do."
"You could die because I love you?"
"Yes, of joy--and--"
"You _care_ for me?"
"Wait! I could die of joy, and sorrow too. Joy, because I do care, and my heart longs for you to care. Sorrow, because--oh, it"s the saddest thing in the world, but we can never be any more to each other than we are now." "You say that so firmly, because you think of me in your heart as a man of Egypt. Dearest and most beautiful, you are great enough if you choose, to mount to your happiness over your prejudice.
If you can love me in spite of what I am--"
"I love you in spite of it, and because of it, too; and for every reason, and for no reason."
"Thank G.o.d for that! You"ve said this to me against your convictions. I have won."
"No, for it"s all I can ever say. There can be no more between us."
"You couldn"t love me enough to be my wife, though I tell you now that you"re the star of my soul? Never till I saw you, have I loved a woman or spoken a word of love to one, except my beautiful mother. I"ve kept all for you, more than I dreamed I had to give. And it"s yours for ever and ever. But just because you"ve said to yourself that we"re of stranger races, who mustn"t meet in love, you raise a barrier between us. Are our souls of stranger races?"
"No. Sometimes it almost seems as if our souls were one. You have waked mine with a spark from your own. I think I was fast asleep. I didn"t know I had a soul--scarcely even a heart. But now I know! Learning to know you has taught me to know myself. And if I"m kinder to everybody, all the rest of my life--even silly rich people I used to think didn"t need kindness--it will be through loving you. I"m not afraid to tell you that, and though I _used_ to be afraid I might love you, I"m glad I do, now--glad! I shall never regret anything, even when I suffer. And I shall suffer, when we"re parted."
"You"re sure we must part?"
"Sure, because there"s no other way, being what we are, and life being what it is. Always I"ve thought since my father died, that he was near me, watching to see what I did with my life. For he loved me dearly, and I loved him. We were everything to each other. Even if that were the only reason, I couldn"t do a thing that would have broken his heart. It would be treacherous, now that he"s helpless to forbid me.
Don"t you see?"
"I see. And if it were not for that reason?"
"If it were not for that--oh, I don"t know, I don"t know! But yes, I do know. The truth comes to me. It speaks out of my heart. If it were only for myself if I felt free from a vow, nothing could make me say to you, "Go out of my life!""
"That"s what I wanted to be sure of. I could thank you on my knees for those words. For I, too, have made a vow which I won"t break. And if I were free of it, I might tell you a thing now which would beat down the barrier. Well! We will keep our vows, both of us, my Queen."
"Yes, we must keep them. But oh, how are we to bear it? Fate has brought us together, and it"s going to part us. We love each other, and we must go out of one another"s lives. What shall we do when we can"t see each other any more--ever any more?"
"That time shall not come."
"But it must--soon."
"Will you trust me, till Khartum?"
"I"ll trust you always."
"I mean for a special thing--just till Khartum. In the foolish days when I wished to conquer you, and make you humble yourself to me, I vowed by my mother"s love that I"d not tell you, or let Borrow tell, a fact about myself which might win your favour. It was a bad vow to make: a stupid vow. But a vow by my mother"s love I could not break, any more than you can break one to your father"s memory. I"ll abide by it: but trust me till Khartum, and there you shall know what I can"t tell you now. I always hoped you would find out there--if we went as far as Khartum together. Then I hoped, because I was a conceited fool.
Now I hope this thing--and all it means--because I am your lover."
"Ah, dear Antoun, don"t hope. Because it seems to me that nothing nearer than Heaven can bring us the kind of happiness you want."
"If you hadn"t told me you cared, nothing that may come at Khartum could have brought any happiness to me at all. For it would have been too late after that, for you to say you cared--and for the word to have the value it has now. You"ve said it--in spite of yourself. Trust me for the rest. Will you?"
"If you ask me like that--yes. I trust you. Though I don"t understand."
"That"s what I want. Say this. "I believe that we shall be happy; and I trust without understanding, that it will be proved at Khartum.""
Monny repeated the words after him. And although I was that vile worm, an eavesdropper, I was so happy that I could have picked Biddy up in my arms, and waved her like a flag. Anthony was going to be happy, and that ought to be a good omen that I should be happy too.