“I’m afraid as that’s all, ma’am. But don’t you go for to be offended at my plain speaking. I could tell you was a lady of spirit by your going to Kubbet-ul-Haj at all. And, bless you, you can do near everything with these fellows if you talk big a little, and don’t let ’em see as you are shaking in your shoes all the time.”
The old man’s face as he enunciated this doctrine was so comical that Georgia accepted the implied apology, and the affair ended in a laugh.
“It never struck me that we were to wear veils as a protection,” said Georgia to Lady Haigh as they returned to their quarters. “I thought it was only for fear of outraging the people’s feelings.”
“If it had been only that,” returned Lady Haigh, “I should certainly have refused on principle to wear a veil. You know that I have knocked about a good deal, my dear. When Sir Dugald asked me to marry him, he said he felt quite guilty in trying to allure me away from all my friends and my work, and I seized the opportunity of stipulating for the very thing I wanted. I said I shouldn’t mind leaving everything in the slightest if he would only promise to take me with him wherever he went. He did promise, and I have gone everywhere with him—to some very strange places indeed. I have often been where no English lady had ever been seen before; but I have always refused to cover my face. They used to tell me that the people were not accustomed to see a woman unveiled. ‘Well, then, they must become accustomed to it,’ I always said. Then they suggested that it might outrage their religious sentiments; but, as I pointed out, people must learn not to let their feelings be hurt so easily. But this time it was different. When it came to be a case of endangering the safety of the whole Mission, Sir Dugald told me that the choice lay between his breaking his promise and leaving me behind and my wearing a veil. I did not see it at all, because the Kubbet-ul-Haj people ought to accustom themselves to seeing new things, and I really yielded solely on account of you. Dugald”—they had reached their own verandah by this time—“didn’t I tell you that I only consented to wear a veil for Miss Keeling’s sake?”
“I believe you have mentioned the fact more than once, now that I come to think of it,” returned Sir Dugald, looking up from his book.
“But really, Lady Haigh, I am not afraid,” said Georgia. “If you think that the old man was only talking nonsense, I will join you in organising a protest against Ethiopian customs with the greatest pleasure, for I should much prefer not wearing a veil.”
“Oh, but it really is necessary for you, my dear. It is different in my case; I am old, and I never was anything much to look at, and I am indubitably married. But suppose the King should see you, and take it into his head to want to make you his fifteenth wife——”
“As a Mohammedan he is not allowed more than four,” interposed Sir Dugald, mildly.
“Oh, I am sure he doesn’t count the ones he has killed or divorced!” said Lady Haigh. “Well, in any case, Georgie, it would be very awkward. You might refuse to marry him, but he wouldn’t take a refusal. He would simply request Sir Dugald to settle the matter. If he was told that it was the custom in England to allow ladies their choice, he would say that at Kubbet-ul-Haj you must do as the Kubbet-ul-Hajis did. Then, if you still refused, he might do as the old man suggested, and murder us all to get hold of you. So you see that it is really necessary for you to cover your face, and I do it to keep you company.”
“But with the veil, you will, of course, adopt the other dictates of Eastern etiquette,” said Sir Dugald, “which forbid a lady to speak to any man not of her immediate family?”