Mrs Howard White had lived at Whitcliffe before her marriage, and had been a member of Mr Anstruther’s congregation, and when on a visit to her family, just before starting for Babylonia, she had met Charlie at St Barnabas’ Vicarage, and all these were reasons which made Cecil very desirous of seeing her. It seemed as though Azim Bey guessed this, for he hung about his governess persistently when Mrs Howard White came to call, and anything approaching confidential talk was out of the question. But the professor’s wife read rightly the entreaty in Cecil’s eyes, and an invitation to tea on the last evening of their stay at Hillah gladdened the hearts of both pupil and governess. Azim Bey was eager to inspect Professor Howard White’s instruments, of which he had heard wonderful tales from his brother-in-law, and Cecil, counting upon his insatiable curiosity to keep him safely in the study for a time, away from her, was tremblingly anxious for a little private conversation with her hostess. It was just possible that she might be able to set her heart at rest by assuring her that Charlie had given up his foolhardy plan. To know for certain that he was safely at home in England, absorbed in the repairs of his house and the business of his estate, Cecil felt that she would go through fire and water.
CHAPTER XXII.
A TRIUMPHAL PROCESSION.
Much as Cecil was troubled on Charlie’s account, her worries were not all to be laid to his charge, for the near approach of the journey seemed to have unsettled Azim Bey, and during his last day of lessons he contrived to test his governess’s patience sorely.
“I don’t think we need do lessons to-day, mademoiselle,” he said that morning.
“Why not?” said Cecil. “Come, Bey, here is this new book on Ethics. We will read it together, and I will set you questions on each chapter.”
“I am lazy this morning, mademoiselle, I do not want to work. That fête yesterday was so unutterably tiresome that I went to sleep. I know I did, because the gold-lace on the sleeve of Said Bey’s uniform left a mark upon my face. When I was there, I longed to be in this room reading, yet now that my desire is granted, I don’t wish to read.”
“There is not much use in reading only when you care to do it,” said Cecil, severely. “It will be a useful mental discipline for you to do a good morning’s work.”
“Do you think that kind of discipline is good, mademoiselle?—doing things one does not like, I mean. Because, if it is, one ought to see that other people have plenty of it.”
“They will generally have plenty of it without your providing it for them,” said Cecil, sighing to think how much discipline of the kind her pupil had provided for her already. “You had much better try to make people happier, and leave such discipline alone, except in your own case.”
Azim Bey shook his head. “That would not suit me, mademoiselle. For me, I wish to make people better, and I consider myself peculiarly fitted to see that they undergo the necessary discipline.”