Part 17 (1/2)

To some extent it might be said that his work in the Oasis was finished: his notebooks contained an enormous ma.s.s of information. Yet he was loth to consider that his task was accomplished. El Hamran and its inhabitants, and especially the saintly and benevolent Sheikh Ali, had become very dear to him; and the detachment from the world made an appeal to his nature which was very strong. His occasional journeys to Cairo were always disturbing to the peace of his mind; and how then could he expect to be happy in close daily contact with all that produced unrest?

There was this girl Muriel Blair, who, against his reason, had made some sort of impression upon him which was hard to eradicate. He had tried his best, even to the point of rudeness, to ignore her; and yet he had found himself interested in her welfare, and, on his return journey to the Oasis, he had given more thought to her than he supposed she deserved. And now he had to confess that Lord Blair's reference to her in his letter had aroused the response it was intended to arouse.

During the whole afternoon he turned the matter over in his mind, and at sunset he went out for a rambling walk into the desert behind his house; nor did he return until his mind was made up.

As he entered his gateway in the gathering darkness, he was met by the Sheikh, who had come to discuss further the subject which he had opened that morning.

Daniel led him into his lamp-lit sitting-room, and bade him be seated; but when the old man began to discuss the merits of his case and those of his enemy, his host held up his hand.

”I would first ask your advice upon my own affairs,” he said. ”My heart is sad tonight, my father.”

”Let me share your sorrow,” the Sheikh replied, with simple sincerity.

”My father,” said Daniel, ”you have told me that long years ago you resided for some years in Cairo and other great cities.”

The Sheikh nodded his head. ”It is so,” he replied.

”Were you happy there?”

”My son, I was young.”

”I mean,” said Daniel, ”do you believe that happiness is to be found in cities?”

The old man raised his hand and moved it from side to side. ”No,” he answered, ”not happiness-only pleasure. Why do you ask?”

”Because I received a letter today....”

”I saw the messenger,” said the Sheikh.

”I have been offered a position of some importance in Cairo. My friends want me to leave El Hamran, and to live in Egypt.”

Sheikh Ali uttered an exclamation of distress. ”What is your reply?” he asked.

”Advise me, my father,” Daniel answered.

The Sheikh leant forward and silently examined his red leather shoes.

For some moments no word was spoken. At length he looked up, and his hand stroked his white beard. ”What use is it for me to advise you?” he said. ”Your decision is already made. You will leave us; but it is not the glory of office which attracts you, nor yet the call of your duty which bids you depart.”

”What then is it?” Daniel asked.

”My friend,” he answered, after a pause, ”no son of Adam, having strength and vitality such as yours, and enjoying the springtime of life, can remain a _dervish_, an ascetic. It is true that you care little for the world, that you do not desire fine clothes, nor wealth, nor possessions. Yet you are man, and man looks for his mate. You go to choose for yourself a wife.”

Daniel smiled. ”You are mistaken,” he answered. ”I shall not marry for some years to come.”

The Sheikh shook his head. ”No man knows the secrets of his own heart,”

he replied, ”yet his friend may read them like a book written in a fair hand. I say again, you go to choose for yourself a wife.”

The ready denial was checked upon Daniel's lips. For a moment he paused, and it seemed to him that a sidelight had been flashed upon the workings of his brain: then he dismissed the thought as being something very nearly fantastic.