Part 60 (1/2)
”But what scandal?”
”The reports that are going about that Mrs. Mervill is with him in the desert, that that is why I haven't heard from Mike. Everyone is saying it.” Meg's words conveyed an apology for her brother.
”Your brother really believes this, and yet he knows Mr. Amory?”
”Yes. But you mustn't blame him. He has tried not to believe it; he is really awfully good about it all. And I must admit that it looks as if the story was true, but I just know it isn't.”
”Of course it isn't!” Hada.s.sah said, almost sharply. ”Who spread the report?”
”First it came from the native diggers in the valley, and then my brother heard it from Mr. King. Now lots of people are talking about it, and my brother wants me to go home. . . . I've promised to go if . . .” Margaret paused. ”That's why I came to you. I want your advice. If we could only hear from Michael, I know the whole thing would be explained. My brother would do anything he could to help me, but his business ties him and . . .” again she paused and then said hurriedly, ”You know what men are--he hates my name being bandied about.”
”I'll get my husband to comb out the truth from all these lies.”
Hada.s.sah put her hand on Margaret's. ”You'll laugh at your fears one day.”
”If you only knew how thoughtless Michael is about the opinion of the world! If he isn't doing wrong, he never stops to think what construction the world may be putting on his action, nor does he care.”
”Personally I think it's the malicious talk of some enemy, or of Mrs.
Mervill herself. Can she have intercepted his letters, and spread the report so as to separate you?”
”She may have followed him. If she is with him, she is self-invited.”
Hada.s.sah Ireton interrupted her. ”Even Mrs. Mervill could scarcely do that!”
”My brother says that I may wait in Cairo until we can find definite proofs one way or another. A letter may come from Michael at any moment. I know it will come if he is all right, but I'm so afraid he is ill--that is really what I came to ask you about.”
”You want us to try to find out if he is ill?”
”Yes, if you will, if it is not asking too much. Something keeps on telling me that he is ill, that he is in need of help.” Margaret was speaking more earnestly and with less restraint. ”I have had queer visions and many presentiments since I lived in the Valley. I seem to be able to see beyond . . . if you know what I mean. They have come true in many instances--it is not mere imagination. But perhaps you have as little belief as I once had in these things?”
”Where ought Mr. Amory to be just now--have you any idea?” Hada.s.sah's voice conveyed the idea to Margaret that the subject was too serious to be spoken of hastily or decisively.
”He ought to have reached his destination, the hills beyond the ruins of Tel-el-Amarna. Did you know the object of his journey?” Margaret spoke nervously, shyly; she shrank from speaking of her lover's belief in the treasure of Akhnaton.
”Yes. He told my husband the twofold reason of his wish to make the journey. He believes in the theory that there is a buried treasure in the hills beyond Tel-el-Amarna, where Akhnaton was buried, and I think he also wanted . . . what shall I say? . . . to find himself--I suppose I must use that hackneyed phrase for want of a better--to find himself in the desert. Wasn't that it?”
”Yes. He is a born wanderer.” Margaret said the words dreamily; her thoughts had flown, to the luminous figure of Akhnaton. In this superb mansion, fas.h.i.+oned by Oriental genius and Eastern wealth and imagination, her vision took its place, not unnaturally, in the strange list of things which her eyes had seen or her mind had received during her life in Egypt.
”Will you enjoy a wandering life? Don't you think women like a home?”
”With an intellectual companion any place is home; with a stupid one a palace becomes a wilderness. I have learnt that in the desert, if I have learnt nothing else, I think. Michael could make a real home out of a bathing-machine and a box of books.” She laughed. ”He is never dull, he doesn't know the meaning of the word bored. His only trouble is that no day is long enough. He'd forget the dimensions of the bathing-machine--it would become to him a beautiful house like this.”
”What a wonderful thing love is!” Hada.s.sah said to herself, as she watched Margaret's eyes glow and s.h.i.+ne. Her thoughts had transformed her. ”A wonderful and beautiful thing! Whatever would the world be without it? And yet there are some people who go through life without the faintest idea of what it really means!”
”What we three have got to do,” she said aloud, ”is to discover where the wanderer is. The sooner he is found the sooner he can start life in a bathing-box. I agree with you so far that I think it's more than likely that he is ill--not necessarily seriously ill, but ill enough to have been delayed on his journey. Still, that is not the only solution of the problem. His letters may be lying in some native post-office.
I've known letters remain for weeks on end in out-of-the-way village post-offices. The official can't read the address; he puts the letter aside until someone comes along who can. It may be sooner, it may be later; they eventually reach their destination.”
Margaret smiled. ”Michael's writing is not too clear--that may be the cause of the delay.”
”My husband has received letters which have been months on a journey which should have taken days. Time means nothing to desert peoples, as you know.”