His Excellency's English Governess

by Sydney C. Grier

“And if you heard of any one who was trying to pass as a native, what would you do?” asked Cecil.

“Frighten him out of the country if possible, and if not have him here and reason him out,” said Sir Dugald. “In his character as a native he couldn’t venture to resist me, and if he dropped it he would be afraid of his life. I can’t have irresponsible fools coming here and stirring up the fanatics to attempt outrages.”

Cecil was a little comforted by the sense of Sir Dugald’s power which this conversation gave her, and she left Baghdad cheered by the conviction that if Charlie did venture into Turkish Arabia, he would be obliged to quit it very quickly, and with no undue courtesy lavished upon him. In the absence of her own persuasive reasoning, she had considerable faith in Sir Dugald’s certain use of force majeure, and he guessed the real source of her anxiety, and smiled grimly as he promised himself that her confidence in him should be fully justified if it was necessary.

At Hillah Naimeh Khanum received Cecil with open arms. They had not met since Cecil’s visit to the place in the summer of the riot, although Azim Bey had ridden over several times with his father for a short stay. In some way or other Naimeh Khanum had obtained an inkling of her brother’s hatred for Charlie Egerton and its cause, and in the only long conversation she held with Cecil they talked the matter over. Naimeh Khanum had been speaking of Azim Bey’s improvement in appearance and in health, and of the pleasure his progress in his studies gave to the Pasha, and Cecil in return confessed her disappointment with respect to the moral side of his nature.

“But what do you expect?” asked Naimeh Khanum. “Why should he sacrifice his own wishes for your pleasure? What is there in our religion to teach him to deny himself? He is a man, a true believer—what can the happiness of a woman, a Giaour, signify to him?”

“But one might hope,” said Cecil, rather hesitatingly, “that some measure of Christian influence might reach him from all he has read, even without direct teaching.”

Naimeh Khanum shook her head. “You forget the strength of the influences at work in the opposite direction,” she said. “As it is, you have made my brother wiser, more polished, more European, but his character is unchanged. He will take all you can give him, and wear it like a cloak, covering his Eastern nature with it, but he will remain a Turk underneath all the same. His ideals, his views of women, are the same as my father’s—they are not yours. You cannot Europeanise Turkey from the outside.”

“And you, Khanum?” asked Cecil, “do you still feel as you did?”

“The same. I have read your book, and its words are good words, but I have too much to give up. But I must not talk to you about this, mademoiselle. My husband found me reading the book, and he would have taken it away if I had not promised him never to speak about it to any one, especially to you. Ah, mademoiselle, if your people want to make us good and happy, they must teach the women as well as the men, and begin at the heart with both.”

And Cecil could gain no more from her, the rather as they had very little time for private conversation. Azim Bey’s lessons were going on just as if they were still at Baghdad, and Said Bey displayed a disposition to keep his wife from having much to say to the Frangi woman. Moreover, there were some English people at Hillah just now who had come out for the purpose of making excavations among the ruins of Babylon, and had spent much time in measuring and surveying once again the mighty mounds. The work of exploration, carried on throughout the pleasant spring days, was now over for the season, and Professor Howard White and his wife were about to leave Hillah before the summer heat came on, and to return to Baghdad preparatory to sailing for home, but for the moment their path crossed Cecil’s on her way to the Kurdish hills.