Beautiful her many rooms had been, but none to compare with the snow-white beauty of this. Great white Persian rugs with faint tracings worked in gold and silver lay upon the white marble of the floor; white cushions, with little corner gold and silver tassels, lay piled upon a great divan raised a foot on ivory feet above the floor, and half hidden behind white damask curtains hanging from a finely wrought arch carved out of creamy stretches of ivory held together with gold and silver clasps of rare workmanship.
Stools of ivory, and one great perfect chair, made of innumerable tusks with each tip blunted by a ball of crystal, shone in the dim light cast by the hanging lamps, which drew countless rays from the four fountains playing in the four corners. Bibelots, jewelled boxes, rare books in rare age-dulled covers, things of use and things of luxury lay in every corner, and yet so big was the room that it gave Jill an infinitely refreshing feeling of space as she walked slowly through to another one, leading out from the far side, where crystal and ivory gleamed from low tables, and full length mirrors reflected the water in the Roman bath over which hung flowering plants scenting the air from the great gold and white cups, whilst two snow-white doves cooed to each other in a silver cage at the approach of the coming dawn.
"So would I have it for my—ah——!" Hahmed stopped suddenly, as with a little cry the girl falling forward clutched frantically at his fine white clothing, tearing it in many places under her weight.
"Woman—wife, art thou stricken with fear of him who loves thee—Allah! That I should have lived to see thy face distorted in anguish in my presence. I spoke in anger, O! my heart, but my wrath waxeth faint within me in thy beloved presence," and speaking soft words of love he raised her in his arms, causing the voluminous mantle which she held so closely about her to slip from her shoulders to the ground.
Speechless she stood before him with her hands before her face, and speechless stood Hahmed, as, holding her at arm's length, he gazed upon his woman, gazed until a great tremor suddenly shook him.
For behold he saw that the glory of womanhood had descended upon her, and that her hour was nigh.
"Allah!" he whispered, as he gently drew her into his arms. "Thou art with child, O! my beloved. Why was I not stricken blind for this my senseless folly? Why was I not stricken dumb for those my words of wrath spoken to thee, thou tree bearing the fruit of love? Oh! glory be to Allah in this most wonderful thing."
He picked her up, and carrying her into the first room, laid her upon the divan and knelt beside her with her hand against his mouth whilst she whispered to him the great, the everlastingly wonderful and new tidings of the coming of her babe.
"Oh, dearest of men and most little understanding. Truly it is that within me I hold thy great gift. How was it thou didst not guess when I no longer raced thee across the sands upon my horse, or sprang to the ground to greet thee on my return.
"And even when my moods changed even as changeth the colour of the sands, even then, dear heart, thou didst not guess; and I in my foolish woman's way was contrary, and could not even then be sure that my happiness lay here in the desert. And so I left thee, to try thee and myself, and not until I could no longer see thee, and have speech with thee, did I——— Hahmed! Ah, beloved! Nay, 'tis nothing—it can be nothing—because two moons have yet to rise and wane before—ah, and yet—maybe—maybe the journey, although not tedious, has brought about my happiness before its time. Beloved, I———"