“Do you mean that I shall find my wife dead?” he asked, with a quiver in his voice. “Is that the picture you saw in your pool?”
“Nay; I saw it not; I do not know. I think she lives and is well. But there are other sorts of death. Faith can die, hope can die, love can die. I tell you I know not, I know nothing; I have no magic; I believe in no divination. I only believe in what my heart tells me, and perchance it tells me wrong. Still I ask you to swear this. If things should so befall that there is nothing more to keep you in the West, if you should need to find new faith, new hope, new love, then that you will come back to Tama and to me. Swear it now by the name of your God, Jesus; so I may be sure that you will keep the oath.”
“I do not swear by that name,” he answered. “Moreover why should I swear at all?”
“For my sake, Rupert Bey, you will. Hear me and decide. I tell you that if you do not come back, then I die. I do not ask to be your wife, that does not matter to me, but I ask to see you day by day. If I do not see you, then I die.”
“But, Mea,” he said, “it may be impossible. You know why.”
“If it is impossible, so be it, I die. Then it is better that I die. Perhaps I kill myself, I do not know, at any rate I go away. I ask not that you should swear to come, if it should make you break your oath to others, only if there are no more oaths to keep. Now choose, Rupert Bey. Give me life or give me death, as you desire. Make your decree. I shall not be angry. Declare your will that your servant may obey,” and she rose and stood before him with bent head and hands humbly crossed upon her breast.
He looked at her. There could be no doubt she was in earnest. Mea meant what she said, and she said that if he did not gratify this strange wish of hers, and refused to give her any hope of his return, she would die, or at least so he understood her; and was certain that if she had the hope, she would not die and bring her blood upon his head. Rupert looked at her again, standing there in the moonlight like some perfect statue of humility, and his spirit melted within him, a blush of shame spread itself over his scarred and rugged features, shame that this loyal-hearted and most honoured woman should thus lay her soul naked before him, saying that it must starve if he would not feed it with the crumb of comfort that it desired. Then he hesitated no longer.
“Mea,” he said, in the kind and pleasant voice that was perhaps his greatest charm—“Mea, my law says: ‘Swear not at all’; I read it to you the other day. Now, Mea, will my word do instead?”
“My lord’s word is as other men’s oaths,” she answered, lifting her humble eyes a little.
Then he bent forward, resting on his knee, not as an act of adoration, but because it was difficult to him to rise without assistance, and stretching out his hand, took her crossed hands from her breast, and bowing himself, pressed them against his forehead, thus—as she, an Eastern, knew well—prostrating himself before her, making the ancient obeisance that a man can only make with honour to his liege sovereign, or to one who has conquered him.