The Rosary [51]
and ageing prematurely--a general dilapidation of mind and body--which it had grieved and startled him to see in Jane as she sat before him on the music-stool, was gone completely. She looked a calm, pleasant thirty; ready to go happily on, year by year, towards an equally agreeable and delightful forty; and not afraid of fifty, when that time should come. Her clear eyes looked frankly out upon the world, and her sane mind formed sound opinions and pronounced fair judgments, tempered by the kindliness of an unusually large and generous heart.
Just now she was considering the view and finding it very good. Its strong contrasts held her.
On one side lay the fertile Delta, with its groves of waving palm, orange, and olive trees, growing in rich profusion on the banks of the Nile, a broad band of gleaming silver. On the other, the Desert, with its far-distant horizon, stretching away in undulations of golden sand; not a tree, not a leaf, not a blade of grass, but boundless liberty, an ocean of solid golden glory. For the sun was setting, and the sky flamed into colour.
"A parting of the ways," said Jane; "a place of choice. How difficult to know which to choose--liberty or fruitfulness. One would have to consult the Sphinx--wise old guardian of the ages, silent keeper of Time's secrets, gazing on into the future as It has always gazed, while future became present, and present glided into past.--Come, Schehati, let us descend. Oh, yes, I will certainly sit upon the stone on which the King sat when he was Prince of Wales. Thank you for mentioning it. It will supply a delightful topic of conversation next time I am honoured by a few minutes of his gracious Majesty's attention, and will save me from floundering into trite remarks about the weather.--And now take me to the Sphinx, Schehati. There is a question I would ask of It, just as the sun dips below the horizon."
CHAPTER XIII
THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX
Moonlight in the desert.
Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the piazza of the hotel, that she might lose as little as possible of the mystic loveliness of the night. The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear white light; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more mystery.
Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight presently. Meanwhile she lay back in a low wicker chair, comfortably upholstered, sipping her coffee, and giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which, in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion.
Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came to her this evening, perhaps brought about by the associations of moonlight.
"The moon shines bright:--in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise--"
Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart of a vivid reminder to the senses. Jane now passed beneath the spell.
To begin with, Garth's voice seemed singing everywhere:
"Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight."
Then from out the deep blue and silvery light, Garth's dear adoring eyes seemed watching her. Jane closed her own, to see them better. To-night she did not feel like shrinking from them, they were so full of love.
No shade of critical regard was in them. Ah! had she wronged him with her fears for the future? Her heart seemed full of trust to- night, full of confidence in him and in herself. It seemed to her that if he were here she could go out with him into this brilliant moonlight, seat herself upon some ancient fallen stone, and let him kneel in front of her and gaze and gaze in his persistent way, as much as he pleased. In thought there seemed to-night no shrinking from those dear eyes. She felt she would say: "It is all your own, Garth, to look at when you will. For your sake, I could wish it beautiful; but if it is as you like it, my own Dear, why should I hide it from you?"
What had brought about this change of mind? Had Deryck's prescription done its full work? Was this a saner point of view than the one she had felt
Just now she was considering the view and finding it very good. Its strong contrasts held her.
On one side lay the fertile Delta, with its groves of waving palm, orange, and olive trees, growing in rich profusion on the banks of the Nile, a broad band of gleaming silver. On the other, the Desert, with its far-distant horizon, stretching away in undulations of golden sand; not a tree, not a leaf, not a blade of grass, but boundless liberty, an ocean of solid golden glory. For the sun was setting, and the sky flamed into colour.
"A parting of the ways," said Jane; "a place of choice. How difficult to know which to choose--liberty or fruitfulness. One would have to consult the Sphinx--wise old guardian of the ages, silent keeper of Time's secrets, gazing on into the future as It has always gazed, while future became present, and present glided into past.--Come, Schehati, let us descend. Oh, yes, I will certainly sit upon the stone on which the King sat when he was Prince of Wales. Thank you for mentioning it. It will supply a delightful topic of conversation next time I am honoured by a few minutes of his gracious Majesty's attention, and will save me from floundering into trite remarks about the weather.--And now take me to the Sphinx, Schehati. There is a question I would ask of It, just as the sun dips below the horizon."
CHAPTER XIII
THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX
Moonlight in the desert.
Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the piazza of the hotel, that she might lose as little as possible of the mystic loveliness of the night. The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear white light; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more mystery.
Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight presently. Meanwhile she lay back in a low wicker chair, comfortably upholstered, sipping her coffee, and giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which, in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion.
Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came to her this evening, perhaps brought about by the associations of moonlight.
"The moon shines bright:--in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise--"
Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart of a vivid reminder to the senses. Jane now passed beneath the spell.
To begin with, Garth's voice seemed singing everywhere:
"Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight."
Then from out the deep blue and silvery light, Garth's dear adoring eyes seemed watching her. Jane closed her own, to see them better. To-night she did not feel like shrinking from them, they were so full of love.
No shade of critical regard was in them. Ah! had she wronged him with her fears for the future? Her heart seemed full of trust to- night, full of confidence in him and in herself. It seemed to her that if he were here she could go out with him into this brilliant moonlight, seat herself upon some ancient fallen stone, and let him kneel in front of her and gaze and gaze in his persistent way, as much as he pleased. In thought there seemed to-night no shrinking from those dear eyes. She felt she would say: "It is all your own, Garth, to look at when you will. For your sake, I could wish it beautiful; but if it is as you like it, my own Dear, why should I hide it from you?"
What had brought about this change of mind? Had Deryck's prescription done its full work? Was this a saner point of view than the one she had felt