And Muriel had been as blind as the blindest of them. She only played with life—skimmed over the surface, snatching at such pleasures as lay to hand.
If she had turned her back on her dances and her parties, and had come to him and had said, “Take me into the desert for ever,” he would have believed in her love, and nothing could have held them apart; but, whether correctly or incorrectly he knew not, he had had the impression that she had wished to fill but an idle hour with the sweets of love, just as, so it seemed to him, all fair women of Mayfair were wont to do.
Therefore he had come back to the clear and open spaces of the desert; and here, in the ruined monastery which for so long had been his home, he had sought and found once more his peace of mind. In a few weeks’ time he would return to Cairo; but in future he would arrange to receive his Egyptian visitors away from the Residency, at some house in the native quarter where he could work without distraction.
As he sat writing in his shirt-sleeves at his table near the window and the sun was descending towards the horizon, his attention was attracted by the barking of his dogs, and he wondered whether some native from the village had come to see him. He was concerned just now in regard to the growing quarrel between the two main families of the Oasis, and visits were frequently paid to him by persons connected with the great feud.
The barking, however, presently ceased abruptly, and therewith he went on with his work. The room was large, and the loud chattering of the sparrows in the palms outside the window prevented him from hearing the opening of the door behind him. He was not aware that his servant, Hussein, had entered, agog with excitement; nor did he see Muriel, who, followed him, as she waved him out of the room, and shut the door behind her.
It was only when she was close to him that he heard the footstep and looked around.
He sprang to his feet. “Muriel!” he exclaimed, as he stared at her in astonishment.
She did not speak. She ran to him, and, throwing her hands around his neck, was lifted from the ground in his arms. For a few moments she did nothing but kiss him—she rained kisses on his mouth and his bewildered face in a very frenzy of love, so that he gasped. Then her hands, slipping from behind his neck, passed over his forehead and his cheeks, and through his hair, patting him and stroking him; while her hat fell off, unnoticed, and her feet dangled above the ground, vainly seeking for foothold in the vicinity of his shins.
At last, having been lowered to the ground, she stood before him, her hands held in his, her face flushed, her hair falling down.
“Oh, my darling,” she cried, “I couldn’t live without you any longer. I’ve broken loose: I’ve run away and come to you.”