She was so impressed by his personality that she could not help thinking of him, even after her departure from the hotel. She visited her people—who lived in one of the white houses in the suburbs—later in the day, and could scarcely refrain from mentioning him to them. She was glad, however, that she was able to check herself in time, for Mrs. Emanuel’s badinage was the last thing that she desired. In talking to her mother, however, a half-forgotten chord of remembrance was stirred in her brain—a psychological connection between Mr. Merryweather and a former conversation. She tried to fathom it out, but the solution escaped her. One thing she was certain about: she had seen something of the tourist before.
CHAPTER II
RAIE AND THE TOURIST
The Princess had taken a fancy to Raie. She admired the girl’s winsome face, with its coronal of curly hair, and the animation which shone in her dark eyes. She liked, too, her naïve manner and natural freshness, for, in spite of her thoughtfulness, Raie was a child of Nature. In England the two had scarcely spoken, although they had met several times; but in Haifa the conditions of life were different, and the friendship, once begun, soon ripened. Thus it happened that Raie spent a great part of her time at the Mount Carmel Hotel, either lunching or dining with her friend.
The air of mystery which pervaded the Australian tourist still prevailed. He would give a certain amount of information about himself, but no more; and concerning his own life he was extremely reticent. He seldom ventured far into the town, and had not troubled to call at the Government House. What attracted him to Haifa, therefore, no one exactly knew; he had evidently come for a private purpose of his own.
Now the Princess possessed acute powers of perception. She soon saw that Mr. Merryweather took pleasure in Raie’s society, and that Raie reciprocated in like manner. So she set the seal of her approval on the acquaintance by giving them opportunities for its further cultivation; and in spite of her worldly wisdom she did not pause to consider whether such a friendship were desirable. The tourist was much older than Raie, and of his connections nothing was known. Yet she encouraged the girl to form a liking for him which gradually deepened into love.
He had travelled so much that conversation never languished for want of subject matter. Raie was profoundly interested in his graphic accounts of life in the bush, but she would have preferred to hear him talk about himself. She did not even know if her instinctive belief that he belonged to her own race was correct; for although they had often approached the subject, he had not yet confessed himself a Jew. She thought so much of him that she was determined to find out. It would make all the difference in the world if he were not a Jew.
He was fond of taking excursions in the surrounding country on horseback, and often remained away over night. He invited the Princess and Raie to picnic with him near the ruins of the Castellum Peregrinorum of the Crusaders one day, and seemed so bent upon their going, that they did not like to refuse. They set out at dawn, accompanied by two other gentlemen who were staying at the hotel, and three Arab servants. Their way lay along a cultivated plain between the mountains and the sea, with villages nestling on the slopes above them, and rocks and ruins below. The gaudily-dressed peasants gazed at them with distrust, evidently regarding them as intruders. Arrived at Athlit, they put up their horses at a neighbouring khan, and prepared to partake of a light repast. Their appetites had been sharpened by the ride.
Raie felt like a schoolgirl out for a holiday. She had come out with the express intention of enjoying herself, and she meant to fulfil it to the letter. Outside the khan lay a solemn-looking camel; immediately she made up her mind that she must have a ride.
The Arab in charge was a gentle-looking individual, with somewhat melancholy eyes. He wore both a tarbûsh and keffiyeh on his head, and his abbâ—or shawl—fell from his shoulders in graceful folds. He shrugged his shoulders when Mr. Merryweather’s servant proffered Raie’s request, and in consideration of backsheesh allowed her to mount. This was easier said than done, for when the camel began to rise from the ground she was nearly thrown over his head. She clung on, however, with all the tenacity of which she was capable, and felt as if she had attained a victory when the animal set off at a jog-trot.
Mr. Merryweather walked alongside in order to keep her company, and endeavoured to sustain a conversation with the Arab on the way. When the girl declared that the motion gave her a peculiar sensation, he suggested a halt, and the animal was brought to a sudden standstill. Raie was not sorry to dismount, and gave a sigh of relief when her feet touched the ground. She had no desire to repeat the experience which had been hers on the sea.