A modern exodus: a novel

by Violet Guttenberg

Then he nodded vigorously, meaning to say that he knew all about it now.

“Tell her Highness I have made up my mind to try with Tom,” Anne said, deciding suddenly. “I will be ready at the time she says—before sunset. But I suppose I had better write it.”

And finding a pencil, she scribbled the message on the reverse side of the Princess’s note. She felt as if she had cast the die.

Nodding and smiling, the Arab departed, and she was left to herself again. The boy was still asleep, with a look almost of babyhood on his face. If he suffered in any way by his visit to the cave she was certain she would never forgive herself; but the temptation to make the trial was too great to be passed by.

“You will be cured, Tom!” she exclaimed softly, as she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I know you will; I can feel it in my heart. No more weary hours, no more pain, dearest. Oh, to see you no longer suffering! ’Tis worth the trial of faith!”

She paced the room, scarcely able to contain her deeply-stirred emotions, and without the least inclination for rest. And when she did go to bed, sleep refused to come, so that she tossed the whole night through, and longed for daylight. But she was up again at the usual early hour, and fulfilled her duties with no lack of energy. Fearing to receive discouragement, she did not inform the Montellas of her intention to put the matter to the test that night, and only the Princess, to whom she had rendered some service in Haifa, was in the secret. Punctual to the appointed time the car appeared before her door, with two servants in attendance, and fortunately there were few people about to wonder at its coming. Anne’s heart beat fast as she placed the lad in the most comfortable seat, and took up her position beside him. The cee-spring and thick rubber tires on the wheels of the vehicle minimised the jolting, which would otherwise have rendered the drive more or less unpleasant, and the white awning served to protect the occupants from the glare of the sun. Occasionally a string of soft-treading camels passed them, their sweetly-sounding bells announcing their approach; or the peasant-women in their picturesque blue robes would stand and stare at them, perhaps in the hope of selling some of the milk which they carried in pans on their heads. The road on the mountain side lay between rich and beautiful vineyards, and as they ascended a glorious view expanded before their gaze. Northwards sparkled the waters of the bay, across which, at a distance of about twelve miles, lay Akka, once in the coasts of the Gentiles, but now a Jewish town. Eastwards rose the hills of Galilee, whose undulating ranges overlooked Nazareth, Cana, and the Sacred Lake; and far away in the distance towered the snowy cap of Hermon, like the only cloud in a clear sky. Around them was spread the rich flora of the Carmel ridge, with occasional Druze villages nestling on its slopes; and close at hand the happy twittering of the birds fell on the fragrant air. Anne drew a deep breath of enjoyment, feeling that here—so close to the scene of Elijah’s victory over the prophets of Baal—nothing was impossible. The very atmosphere seemed charged with the miraculous, the Oriental colouring bridged over the distance from that time of old. It was the first time she had been any distance from the town, the first time that she was able to realise that this was in truth the land of the Bible; and the fascination of it all crept over her spirit—that peculiar spell of the Holy Land.

The Princess was waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel. It was characteristic of her to treat her inferiors with as much deference as her equals, and since the nurse had obtained the promise of this favour, she would not stint the measure of her goodwill. A substantial repast had been prepared for them in her private sitting-room; and with her own hands she ministered to their wants. Yet if at home in Felsen-Schvoenig her husband had asked for such an attention, she would have replied that she was not a serving-maid. She was indeed a mixture of perversity, but a sweet woman withal.

“Tom does not look so well to-day,” she observed, as she coaxed him to eat. “Do you think the journey has been too much for him, Anne?”

Anne was not sure, but she thought he must have benefited by the lovely drive.

“If your Highness will allow me to feed him, I think he will get on better,” she suggested cheerfully, and held the spoon to his lips as though he had been a child.