And she had married the Earl of Eglington!
She leaned towards David, and said eagerly: “But you are satisfied—you are satisfied with your work for poor Egypt?”
“Thee says ‘poor Egypt,’” he answered, “and thee says well. Even now she is not far from the day of Rameses and Joseph. Thee thinks perhaps thee knows Egypt—none knows her.”
“You know her—now?”
He shook his head slowly. “It is like putting one’s ear to the mouth of the Sphinx. Yet sometimes, almost in despair, when I have lain down in the desert beside my camel, set about with enemies, I have got a message from the barren desert, the wide silence, and the stars.” He paused.
“What is the message that comes?” she asked softly. “It is always the same: Work on! Seek not to know too much, nor think that what you do is of vast value. Work, because it is yours to be adjusting the machinery in your own little workshop of life to the wide mechanism of the universe and time. One wheel set right, one flying belt adjusted, and there is a step forward to the final harmony—ah, but how I preach!” he added hastily.
His eyes were fixed on hers with a great sincerity, and they were clear and shining, yet his lips were smiling—what a trick they had of smiling! He looked as though he should apologise for such words in such a place.
She rose to her feet with a great suspiration, with a light in her eyes and a trembling smile.
“But no, no, no, you inspire one. Thee inspires me,” she said, with a little laugh, in which there was a note of sadness. “I may use ‘thee,’ may I not, when I will? I am a little a Quaker also, am I not? My people came from Derbyshire, my American people, that is—and only forty years ago. Almost thee persuades me to be a Quaker now,” she added. “And perhaps I shall be, too,” she went on, her eyes fixed on the crowd passing by, Eglington among them.
David saw Eglington also, and moved forward with her.