The Nile lay, gleaming exquisitely lilac, between its banks of golden sand, calm and smooth, with a soft sheen upon its surface, it moved forward as molten glass, without a ripple, without a murmur, in the stillness of the sunset hour. The palms on Elephantine Island held their feathery foliage without movement against the rosy violet of the glowing sky. The burnished sand, unruffled by any breeze, stretched level and even on every side, each grain of it seeming to glitter and sparkle with tawny and deep orange hues, as if some Emperor had had a carpet of jewels, of topaz and yellow amethyst unrolled along the river banks, flashing and shining under the red-gold fire of the sun rays.

Not a sound jarred upon the stillness; from the gold tips of the palms to the glow on the dreaming river all was wrapped in an infinite peace.

Some little distance from the island, motionless, with its sails hanging like curtains of gold and lilac silk in the evening light, lay the dahabeeyah of the Lanarks, and on its deck Everest and Regina were sitting side by side, in long cane chairs, watching the lustre of the western sky.

They had joined the dahabeeyah at Cairo, and, with its steam tug to pull them up, it had not taken them long to get as far as this on their way.

The boat was a thing of beauty; all fitted in purple and silver. It was named The Empress, in honour of Regina, and was well worthy of its name. When the girl went through it she felt, for the first time, a rejoicing in Everest's wealth, since it gave him the power to provide such a setting for their love. As she entered the sleeping saloon, large and spacious as any room on land, and her eyes fell on the bed at one side, with its purple velvet curtains, lined with mauve satin, her feet faltered. She turned aside and, leaning her hand on the window sill, looked down into the pale green waters below.

Her relations with Everest were still too new to her, and all the emotions that filled them too intense, for her to be able to look upon the room they were to occupy together with indifference.

Beyond the sleeping saloon, which occupied the whole width of the boat, thus obtaining a very wide and gracious form, came two small dressing-rooms and bathrooms, and beyond these, a covered topped space, with open sides, a verandah, as it were, in which to sit idly, contemplating the changing view of the river sides.

It was here they were sitting now, absorbed in that wonder of light and colour that makes Egypt's peculiar beauty.

At the extreme other end lay the kitchen and the servants' quarters, next came an anteroom and hall, where one first boarded the boat. From this, one passed to the spacious dining-room, thence to the drawing-room, and so on to the sleeping saloon. Over all the fore part stretched the upper deck, with a smooth, polished floor, where, before leaving Cairo, they had given a dance, and cool, white canvas overhead, forming the roof. Inside the whole was hung with pale mauve satin; and divans of wonderful depth and softness, inviting to slumber in the long, hot afternoons, lined the sides.

Here, in the still, moonlight evenings, with the canvas sides of the awning rolled up and their steam tug pulling them swiftly upstream against the ripple and the light, floating airs of the Nile, Everest would lie, while she played to him, or they would sit together, watching the golden sand—golden to deep orange, even in the moonlight—of the banks speed past them. It had been so far a dream of enchantment, their life on board that boat. Day by day, and night by night, this floating up and up the magical, golden river, between ever-changing vistas of loveliness, of palm grove and date plantations, of rose and azure-tinted hills, of deep green bands of the cultivated fields, of burnished stretches of glittering desert, brought to the girl's mind sometimes a sense of unreality.

"One never is so perfectly happy in one's life, for long," she often thought. "The gods must begin to envy me soon, as the Greeks would say, and strike me down." And she clung to every jewelled hour, as sometimes in those rare dreams of perfect happiness that visit the human brain the dreamer clings to his sleep, and fears the moment of his awakening, which he is dimly conscious is approaching.

But, so far, no blow had fallen on the girl, each day came to her like a messenger loaded with new gifts. Time was her ally, and every morning the huge mirror, between its velvet hangings, showed her a face that grew more lovely, a form that grew more perfect, as it developed, flower-like, in this atmosphere, mental and physical, of warmth and light; and though, in reality, Everest's feet were already on that cold bridge that leads from youth to age, no trace yet of that awful, slow destruction of the human frame could be detected in the lithe, active body, nor in the clear-skinned, handsome face. The tremendous energy that filled them both prevented any day seeming one moment too long for them: its twenty-four hours barely sufficed them for what they wanted to do in it.

Everest knew Egypt well, as he did Nubia, the Soudan, Abyssinia and much of the heart of Africa, but he took an immense interest in Regina's initiation and education. She was so well worth teaching! She loved learning so much, and learnt so easily and rapidly! A good part of their mornings were given up to the study of Arabic, which Everest spoke perfectly himself. One of the girl's great joys was to hear him talk when the Arab sheiks or other native visitors came to see them on their boat, and she longed eagerly for the time when she would converse easily with them, as he did. Then she must learn to ride perfectly and easily anything that might be necessary at any moment, camel, horse or donkey, and the dahabeeyah was stopped by his orders for many days, at the most interesting spots, so that they might take long rides together. And these camel races over limitless tracts of desert sand! what a source of wildest joy and elation they were to her.

Everest would have the boat pulled up by some large native village or settlement, and send his servants on shore to scour it for camels.

When some good-looking beast had been found, and sent up, he would go himself, and personally examine it. Every cloth and covering would be stripped from the camel by his orders, and then its condition and skin carefully examined. The least sore or any pain-giving defect caused rejection. He would only hire for his amusement animals that could give it to him without distress. Finally, when two camels were eventually selected, they were given food and water under his personal supervision, and then left to rest in sheltered repose till the next day. Under these circumstances, the camels on the following morning were ready and fit and willing to go any distance, and those long flying, swinging rides that she and Everest took together were a source of great delight to Regina, delight greatly heightened by Everest's care of the beasts themselves.

"I hate to hear a camel cry," he replied once to her eager praise. "I know them so well—they are so good and gentle and patient and when they scream as they do it means they are in terrible suffering."

And all his camels ever did was to gurgle with pleasure, whenever he approached them. He seemed to possess a magnetic power over animals, to speak to them in their own language. They never resisted him, nor resented anything he did. They seemed to have an instinctive belief in his knowledge of their troubles and requirements. And no trait in a man could have bound Regina so closely to him as this did; no quality evoked a greater admiration.

In their journey up the Nile, in their excursions into the desert, they were often brought face to face with animal distress, caused by the wanton cruelty or carelessness of the Arabs, or the still more shameless callousness of the British tourist.

One morning they had been roused at daybreak by a piercing scream from a camel on the bank, and both had hurried ashore, to find a group of Arabs and one irate Englishman standing round a camel, that was kneeling on the ground and resisted all persuasions of the camel-driver's goad and the Britisher's boot to get up. It was screaming, crying and groaning by turns, appealing in every way it could to the pitiless crowd for help and mercy. Regina was white and trembling with sympathy, Everest unmoved outwardly, and determined, when they broke into the circle.

"Here, this tiresome beast won't get up," remarked the tourist. "At this rate I sha'n't get out and back before noon."

"It has a wound or a sore probably under the girth, which hurts when it rises," suggested Everest.

"I don't care what the devil's the matter with it," returned the other savagely, "as long as it'll get up and let me get on to it."

"Then you ought to care," replied Everest sternly; "it's people like you who encourage the camel-drivers to be cruel." And he added in Arabic: "Stand back, all of you!"

The crowd, impressed by the commanding figure and the set gravity of the face, all fell back, except the driver, who edged up behind him, and pulled at his sleeve.

"Don't you go near that camel, mister; he very dangerous beast, very savage; bad camel that, he bite."

Everest turned upon him, and said, as before, in Arabic:

"Stand back. Keep away from the camel."

The man fell back, and Everest went forward quite alone to the complaining beast, who on seeing him approach, and fearing some new form of torture from a fresh enemy, burst into a fresh series of its anguished cries. When he was a little distance from it, Everest stopped and began to talk to it in Arabic, in low caressing tones, and all the crowd stood silent, wide-eyed and staring, and Regina watched him, her heart beating and swelling with love and delight in him. After a few moments the camel's shrieks fell to moans and groans, and finally to silence. It turned its intelligent head this way and that, listening intently to the soft Arabic words of encouragement and sympathy. When it was quite silent, Everest drew near to it, and knelt down, putting his hand gently on the saddle girth, when the creature winced and moaned. It swung its head round towards him, but did not offer to bite, and Everest talked to it again, while his strong, supple fingers worked at the unfastening of the girth. It was difficult to get at, owing to the animal's position, but with infinite patience and calm he accomplished it, the camel watching him and listening to his voice all the time. As the girth was loosened, some blood splashed out on his hand and cuff, and as he drew the band aside a wound, in which a man might lay his closed fist, was revealed. The camel winced and moaned a little, but seemingly breathed more easily when the tight band was loosened.

"Now you can get up," Everest said, exactly as he would have done to a human being, and the camel, groaning slightly, but otherwise not protesting, rose to its feet, while the blood trickled slowly down its foreleg from the wound. Everest stroked and caressed its neck as it stood beside him, and then turned upon the driver.

Regina heard him, in an unbroken flow of Arabic, which she could only partially follow, abuse the man for using an animal in that state, and threaten him with every kind of punishment if he persisted in hiring out that or any other camel in a similar condition.

The man, not knowing in the least who this magnificent and authoritative person might be, turned all colours, and vowed and protested complete and absolute submission, and said he had another camel, only it was worth eight shillings a day, and the English mister had said he couldn't give more than six, so he wouldn't give him his best camel, but now indeed he would, if this great lord would spare his life and possessions. The scene ended by Everest taking the man's name and address down in his note-book, and ordering the camel to be led off by his own servants to have its wound dressed.

When he looked round for the British tourist he had vanished, and some hours late Everest and Regina returned to their boat for breakfast. Such and similar incidents were not uncommon, and each of them seemed to send a gold barb down deep into her heart, pinning fast into her consciousness a memory that could never be torn out.

And gradually, though she had never thought of or wished for children, she delighted in the idea now of bearing them to this man. If she could produce beings with his beauty, grace, strength and intellect, and that dear character of his, and give them to the world, that was a work, after all, worth doing; and hopes, like fairies, came to her now, from day to day, and ideas and thoughts that became almost a conviction, but she said nothing of it. She would wait till she was quite sure. There was plenty of time.

And besides the riding of every kind in the desert, there was the shooting. Everest was so anxious she should shoot well and easily, and two or three times in the week they would go out to distant sandbanks or hill ridges, where they could practise in safety. All kinds of marks and distances were arranged for her: moving objects running on a string, held by servants, and balls thrown into the air gave her quickness and dexterity, with both rifle and pistol.

The days when there was no shooting practice there was the painting, and they sat side by side on the cool upper deck, with the curtains rolled up on some enchanting prospect, each absorbed in giving it duplicate life upon the canvas.

And when the painting tired there was the playing, that they both loved, and so the happy, busy days flew by, each filled to the brim and overflowing with work and exercise, artistic creation and love. Deliciously tired with accomplishment, they fell into each other's arms at night, while the boat glided on by moonlight, to fresh scenes, where the dawn would break.

Now, as they sat in the sunset hour, watching the light fall over the desert, Regina's thoughts swept back over all the days and nights of that glorious, golden month, and she felt almost afraid of the perfection of her happiness.

"That man is late with the post," remarked Everest, looking at his watch. "Didn't we send him ashore at six?"

"I'm not in a hurry for letters," answered Regina. "Nothing could make me more happy than I am, anything might make me less!"

Everest laughed, and continued a little sketch of a lonely palm he was making in his note-book, and just then the Arab messenger, with the mail bag, came on to the verandah and saluted them.

There was an immense number of letters as usual for Everest. He opened most of them with indifference, read and laid them down, without comment.

There were a few for Regina, which she left on the table, unopened. She did not wish to miss the transient glory of the sunset. And, as she said, there was nothing, nothing, nothing, that she wanted in this world.

"What a confounded bore!" exclaimed Everest suddenly over a letter. "Sybil and her brother are coming out, and want to join our camp.... Isn't that tiresome?"

Regina went suddenly cold in the warm and roseate air.

"Oh, Everest, I am sorry!"

"A girl like that! So utterly unfit for camp life!" he went on. "It's such a responsibility, and that ass of a brother of hers is such a bore too."

"Can't you wire to them that you don't want them?"

Everest laughed his amused, easy laugh.

"Well, it's a little awkward! Besides, it won't make much difference to Miss Sybil if she intends to come."

Regina rose with a swift, sudden movement from her chair, and came over to his. Her face looked white in the warm light, her mouth had a resolution in its lines that Everest had never seen before.

"You have been perfectly content and happy all this time, haven't you?" she asked. "You don't want or need anybody else? You have no personal wish that these people should come?"

"Not a bit," he answered, looking up at her with a smile. "I think they would be a great bore. We are absolutely happy alone, and so we shall be in camp. We don't want anybody."

"Then wire you won't have them: that they can't come." She spoke with unusual decision for her, in talking with him. Generally it was her pleasure to give way to him in everything. In fact she cared about nothing so long as he was pleased. But now, this was important: there was danger ahead to her happiness, and she rose to defend it, as a lioness to defend her cub.

"I think this is the first thing I have asked of you," she added, as he hesitated: "to send this wire."

Everest clasped both his arms round the slim, supple waist, as she stood by him.

"My sweet, of course I will send one if you wish. You write out just what you would suggest, and I'll give it to Salah to take now."

Regina bent down and kissed him on the thick waves of his black hair, with a swift, passionate enthusiasm.

"Thank you so much," she murmured. Then she went into the body of the boat, behind them, and wrote out the wire:

"Regret your suggestion to join our camp quite impossible. Many reasons.—Everest."

"Will that do?" she asked, bringing it back, and showing it to him.

"First rate," he answered, and the telegram was sent.

No response of any kind came to the wire, either by letter or telegram, and the Lanarks continued their dreaming, lingering journey up to Wady Halfa by boat, undisturbed, and thence by train across the desert to Khartoum.

They arrived there one burning midday, when the sun seemed a blazing disk of fire against a burnished copper sky, and went to the hotel to rest. All their staff of servants and camp equipment had already arrived and were awaiting them. They had a large, cool-looking room assigned to them on the ground floor. Its three lofty windows were tightly closed by green, wooden shutters, made like a rigid Venetian blind, and nothing of the heat and glare of the outside was visible, except the blinding bars of light between the slats. The room was full of green light, and a matting crackled under their feet on the floor. A large white mosquito net hung round the bed. Above it, in a corner of the rafters that supported the ceiling, a sparrow had built its nest, and long trails of grass and straw hung down the wall.

Outside one heard the peculiar cry of the wood, as an Egyptian water-wheel was slowly revolved in the garden.

Regina looked round with delight, as she and Everest entered together and closed the door. Somehow the spirit of the East was in the room, and it took her to itself and enfolded her, and she knew for the first time that peculiar joy and elation that the East can give to those who are sensitive to its magic breath.

They were tired after the three and a half days' journey in the vibrating train, and lay down under the mosquito net, and slept peacefully away the hot, sun-scorched afternoon.

It was time to dress for dinner when they awoke, and the cool sunset air was filling the room.

Regina opened the long green shutters of one window, and gave an exclamation of delight as she looked out into the paradise of palms beyond. How cool, how deliciously green it was, and how delicately each branch of the palm-trees outlined itself in gold against the brilliant, gleaming sky! A hedge, a beautiful wall of pomegranate, was just below the window ledge. She could put her hands down amongst its glowing, vivid, scarlet flowers, and, beyond, the whole garden was a mass of white roses, threaded everywhere by little sandy paths, beneath the palms. She turned from the window at last, with regret, and began to dress. They were both nearly ready when someone knocked at the door, and as Everest opened it one of the hotel servants handed him a card.

He took it back into the room and read it:

"Damn!" was all he said, as he laid it down.

Regina looked at him, her heart beating. He dismissed the servant and closed the door. Then he came over to the girl, who was fastening her pearls round her neck, before the mirror. She turned to face him. She saw he was very much annoyed.

"This is Merton's card," he said; "he is here in the hotel, and his sister too. Now," he added, as Regina sank down on a chair by her, with an expression of distress on her face, "you sent the telegram, as you wished, from Assuan, and, as I told you, it has made no difference. These people are here, and doubtless want to join us. I must ask you not to press me to be discourteous to them in any way."

Regina looked up at him, as he stood before her, the card in his hand, and her eyes swam suddenly with tears. She always admired him, particularly in his evening dress, and at this moment, pale from the heat, fresh and calm after his long sleep, his face looked extremely handsome. But it seemed to her that never before had he spoken so coldly to her, so sternly, as if she had already been guilty of some act he disapproved. Lost in that great tide of love she had for him, utterly helpless to oppose him in any way, as any human being becomes once the chains of passion are bound round him, the girl clasped her hands together on her breast, and merely faltered, while the tears she could not hold back, slipped down her cheeks:

"Certainly.... Of course you must do just as you wish about them."

Everest stooped down and kissed her.

"My darling, there is no need to cry about it. They can't do us any harm. If they join camp with us for a time, we can go on alone afterwards. I don't think it's wise or right to quarrel with them and make enemies of them."

After what he had said, and the tone and manner in which he had spoken, the girl felt it would be unwise to urge anything in dissent or opposition. She bent her head over his hands, and kissed them in silence, and Everest took Merton's card and tore it into shreds, as if he felt he would like to wring the owner's neck, and threw them into the grate.

Meanwhile, in two other rooms, on the opposite side of the hotel, Sybil and her brother were also dressing for dinner. She was in her room, and through the open communicating door she heard her brother ask the servant, when he returned from the Lanarks' room, what the recipient had said on getting his card.

"The gentleman only said 'Damn' sir," returned the man impassively.

Sybil heard this answer in her room, and she looked into the mirror opposite her and laughed.

When the Lanarks came down from their room the head waiter met them at the foot of the stairs.

"Mr. Graham said, sir, he was sure you'd like to dine with his party, so I reserved a table for six, in the window, for you all together."

Regina saw Everest knit his brows, but he only nodded and said:

"Where are the Grahams now?" And, on being told they were in the little saloon, moved in that direction.

"We had better go there and get the introductions over," he said to her, and she assented.

The saloon was fairly full of guests when they entered, but Regina's eyes found at once the tiny and beautiful figure of the girl who had called at her flat. She was exquisitely dressed now in white satin, covered with lace, and embroidered all over with pearls. Her ivory arms and shoulders were bare, her golden head bound round with pearls. She came forward at once, with her hand outstretched, when she caught sight of Everest, and Regina thought what a delicate, fairy-like vision of beauty she looked.

"Oh, Everest, I am so glad to see you! And now you'll introduce me to your wife, won't you? It was so horrid of you to carry her off up the Nile, just like a brigand with his captive!"

She spoke charmingly, and smiled at Regina, who saw instantly the line she was going to take. She was going to assume that Regina was Everest's wife, for her own purposes, because, otherwise, she could hardly have associated with her; but Regina guessed that she was convinced they were not married, and that Everest was still obtainable for herself. She saw, too, the girl did not mean to allude to the visit to the flat. Regina did not feel sure whether she really recognised her or not. At any rate it was evidently her cue to meet her as a stranger.

Everest presented Regina to both his cousins, and Regina bowed in silence.

The Honourable Merton Graham was tall and thin and fair, like his sister, without possessing her beauty. He looked hard at Regina, as he was introduced, and said he was so glad to meet her; to which she responded only with a smile. There were two other men with the Grahams, and they were in turn presented. One, a middle-aged man, with rather a pleasant face, was introduced to her by Graham as Surgeon-Doctor James.

"Not one of the modern school, who are mad on operations and mutilations, and long to divide you into pieces as soon as they look at you," he added, laughing, "but really quite a kind, respectable person."

And as Regina looked at him, and smiled, she felt that he deserved this description, and for reasons of her own she was not wholly displeased that a doctor would be with them if they were going to stay a long time in camp.

The fourth man of their party was presented as Colonel St John, who had a good record of big-game shooting in India, and he favoured Regina with a long, admiring stare. She looked very well this evening, in a gown of palest green that Everest had chosen for and given her. A circle of great pearls enclosed her throat, and she had set two pearl and emerald stars in her soft, shining hair. She had no need to feel envy of the new-comer, and did not. She only felt cold dislike and fear.

She saw that the girl had come out, as it were, armed to the teeth, and in face of all obstacles, to fight with her for the possession of Everest, and that the desire for the man was intense enough to make her risk all dangers, and accept a life for which she was totally unfitted, and which she must hate. To gain her end she was willing to risk spoiling her beauty, injuring her health, possibly even giving up her life. Not an adversary to be considered lightly.

As soon as the introductions were over they went in to dinner. Everest took his cousin in first, then Graham and Regina followed, and the doctor with Colonel St John came in last. Regina watched Everest and the tiny, exquisite, white-clothed figure precede her, with a curious feeling. It was the first time she had seen him with another woman, except her own sisters at the Rectory, and she noticed directly that the calm of absolute indifference which had characterised his bearing then with them was absent here. He seemed pleased, animated, as he bent over and talked with her. Regina could see the wonderfully exquisite profile of the girl as she turned her face up to him, and could feel the admiration in Everest's gaze as he looked down upon her. He did evidently admire her, and, in fact, it would be hard for anyone to do anything else. Regina divined what was the actual fact, that his cousin did possess for Everest a charm and fascination nearly irresistible when she was with him, and not wishing to be conquered by it he had kept away from her.

What would be the result now of this continual contact that the girl had chosen—wisely enough if she wanted him—to force upon him? Regina's ears seemed ringing with this question as she took her place at the table opposite the two; the dazzling beauty of all the delicate ivory carving, which yet was not ivory but white, pale-tinted flesh, seemed for a moment to swim before her eyes. Her heart seemed to contract and grow cold as her brain formed the pitiless answer—victory for the woman. With her learning, her knowledge and her intuition it was impossible for her to believe that a man already attracted towards it could withstand the siege of beauty like this daily, hourly, beside him, asking only to be taken, conquered and enjoyed.

A calmness, like the calmness in the face of death, came over her, and it showed how true to herself and her own nature she was that the first thought which came to her in that calm was not "What a pity I did not marry him before," as ten thousand other women would have said in such a moment, but "How fortunate that we are not married, that he is free, quite free, to do just as he wishes."

And she gazed at Everest's dark, brilliant face, all light and smiles, across the glass and flowers, and heard his talk and laughter as a man on trial for his life may gaze at the judge opposite him who holds the balance of his existence in his hands.

All this time Graham and St John were talking to her and courses being set before her. It seemed a very long dinner, but at last the dessert was brought, which she refused, and sat idly with her hands in her lap, listening to the discussions of the future camp which now circulated round her, and in which both Graham and St John took an active part, thus leaving her in peace.

The incoming party of four wished the camp to be in common, and all expenses shared equally between them all, but Everest was quite firm and determined on the point that they should come as his guests, and on no other footing, if they joined camp with him at all.

"I am much too selfish," he declared, with his easy laugh, "to be in a camp where there are four masters, to say nothing of two queens. If I am host I get things my own way, and make all the arrangements, and give all the orders that suit me. I shall be delighted if you like to join my camp as guests, but it would be quite impossible for me to camp under any other conditions."

A silence fell on the table, and to Regina her heart seemed to cease beating while she waited for it to be decided. Oh, how she hoped they would refuse. The men would have done so, she was sure, but Sybil threw a decided glance across to Merton and said simply:

"Thank you, Everest, so much. Of course we will come. You are always a delightful host."

Graham said nothing, but looked at his plate. The other men being merely guests of the Grahams could say nothing.

Regina's face was pale and Everest's clouded when they all rose from the table.

"We have a splendid outfit for ourselves," Sybil continued, as they moved together to the door. "We sha'n't poach on any of your preserves. We have tents, servants, furniture, everything. They are all out at the oasis. I found out where you'd sent yours, and, as I knew you'd like us to join you, I had all ours sent there too."

Everest's face did not grow any more pleased looking at this statement.

"You did not have my wire, I suppose?" he asked, as they passed into the hall.

"What wire?" inquired Sybil, with an innocent expression.

"I don't know that it matters if you didn't get it," he answered. "You had none at all from me?" His eyes were on her face and she coloured slightly as she shook her head.

"No, Everest; I have not heard from you since you left England."

Everest made no further remark and they joined the others on the terrace outside for coffee.

Regina stepped out into the hot, lustrous night with a feeling of joy. Khartoum was beautiful, she thought, with its waving palms lifting their feathery tops towards the purple sky, which seemed to beat and pulsate, so thickly studded over it were the palpitating stars, and down there just at the end of the garden were the dark waters of the Nile.

She wished so much she could have remained with Everest alone; how they would have sat here together, drinking in the warm bauble-scented air, listening to the curious cry of the water-wheel, watching the stars flash and wheel suddenly in a great arc of light across the purple sky.

She sat silent, looking away from all the others into the mystery of the tropic night. The men were talking together.

Sybil leant back in her chair; where a ray of light from the saloon window struck on her golden head and gleamed on her satin and pearls.

Regina heard it being arranged that they were all to go over early next morning to the camp on a preliminary visit to see if all were ready and in order, the real start up the White Nile to be made on the following day.

"We had better go to bed now," Everest said, rising, "We must start as soon as it's light: it's so painfully hot and burning here after ten."

They all rose, and St John and the doctor went into the bar to get just one more liqueur before turning in. The Grahams paused, saying good-night and Merton added to Everest:

"I was sorry not to send you a reply to your wire, but Sybil didn't want to; she said it would be all right when we got here."

Everest made no answer whatever. A silence that seemed thick in its intensity followed, and then Sybil broke into a laugh. She knew already that Everest had no admiration for her character, no confidence in her word. She was not relying on those things, or this speech of her brother's would have been a serious matter. She relied solely on the perfect lines of her face, and these were the same whether she lied or otherwise.

"I am sorry Merton has been so injudicious as to tell you the truth," she said lightly. "It's such a stupid habit of his. I am always trying to correct him. We got your wire, of course, but I knew you wouldn't mind when we were really here."

Everest looked down upon her in the ray of gold light.

"Brothers and sisters should agree, especially about the lies they are going to tell," he answered, laughing too. "Good-night," and he stepped into the saloon, holding wide the door for Regina, and they both went up to their room.

As soon as they were inside, and the door locked, he came up to her and drew her into his arms. She was a beautiful vision in her pale silk, with her soft waving hair and the pearls gleaming on her firm stainless breast.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am about all this, because it delays our marriage," he said, in a low tone of passionate annoyance; "we can't simply do anything now about it, can we?"

"Oh no; certainly not," she replied impulsively, "and—and I could not marry you now—just yet—before——" She could not finish her sentence. She burst into tears, the advent of these others was so hateful to her, she was so disappointed and excited and strained, she lost control of herself for the moment and bent her face down sobbing on his arm. He stroked all the rich, lustrous hair gently.

"Sweetest, nothing matters; I don't care about anything except for the pleasure of knowing you belong to me and of giving you any advantage that there is in marriage. But now you see we can't call these people to witness that we've been together all this time without it. Unconventional as I am supposed to be, nobody would stand that, and it would be so unsatisfactory for you afterwards. We could not marry quietly here now—Sybil would be sure to find out."

Regina's tears had ceased: she looked up.

"Don't think of it," she said simply. "For the present it is out of the question."

She disengaged herself from his clasp and sank into an arm-chair, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. She was white and trembling, her limbs hardly seemed able to support her.

It was quite possible their marriage would never be now, but that was not oppressing her, the iron fetters of a legal tie that bound him unwilling, unloving, unhappy to her, what would they be to her, who longed after his love and desire and pleasure in her? If these were hers, she wanted nothing else, if they were not hers, nothing else would console her.

Everest stood by the bed, mechanically winding up his watch.

"I know you are sorry at their joining us," he said, after a minute. "But I think if I had absolutely refused, it would have been such a slight to Sybil she would never have forgiven either of us. She is my next neighbour, our lands touch each other, and it would be a pity, for your sake, to have her as an enemy."

"I am only afraid at the end of our camping together she will be more of an enemy than you would make her now by refusing to take her."

"Why should you think so?" he answered, looking over to her.

Regina was silent. It did not seem wise to tell him that Sybil was doing all merely to win him for herself, and that nothing short of that would content her, and that her failure would inevitably embitter her for life. The incense to a man's vanity is so often in itself such an attraction towards a woman.

Perhaps the camping might be short; Sybil might find it impossible to stand the rough life; anything might occur to break it up. It could do no good in any case for her to put before Everest's eyes in glowing colour this girl's passion for himself.

"It's difficult to say exactly, but you know how people generally disagree and all grow to hate each other on these expeditions."

"Well, we must try to be as amicable as we can," returned Everest, smiling. "I know Regina will be, to please me."

And Regina, looking at him, knew that she must indeed do as he wished, that his will was absolute law to her, by reason of that magic power he had to make her happy or unhappy by his glance. Man's prayer throughout the ages to beauty has always been: "Be what you will, act as you will, only give me the privilege of looking at and loving you."

In the early dawn the whole party assembled and started out for the camp. The sky was still softly grey, the air light, almost cool. The gay, wonderful, joyous river rolled blue and clear between its banks covered by lovely feathered throngs, drinking and spreading out their multi-coloured wings to the early light. The palms tossed their swaying branches in the little breeze that comes before the sun.

They rode out on three camels with their guides, and Regina felt her spirits rise as the cool current of air off the river struck her forehead, lifting the waving curls beneath her wide-brimmed hat. She looked wonderfully well this morning, and all the three men looked at her with admiration as she sat behind Everest on the saddle-cloth.

It was certainly a very fine encampment when they came up to it; they saw that the servants had set up all the tents and got everything in working order. There were six white tents in all, and innumerable smaller ones for the kitchens and servants. Everest had arranged a large wall tent for their sleeping-room, and another square one for the dining and living room, and a smaller one for the keeping of the game, heads, skins, etc. To these the Grahams had added a tent each for Merton and his sister, another larger one being shared by St John and the doctor. There was a scent of coffee in the air as they approached, and one of Everest's servants opened the dining tent door with an air of unmistakable pride and confidence, revealing within a well-set and most inviting-looking breakfast.

They all trooped in, and Regina was appointed to the head of the table and to pour out the coffee. Sybil overnight had had a long and earnest talk with young Graham, and the result of this was that all present now accepted and deferred to Regina and Everest absolutely as host and hostess. Sybil knew her cousin's character pretty well, and she saw that the one condition he had made of their joining them must be carried out to the letter. She would give him no excuse for withdrawing his invitation. Regina felt happy at the breakfast. There was excitement in going out into the savage desert, just their own little party, alone, to meet lions and unknown and mysterious dangers. This was life, movement anyway, it was not the slow death that was consuming her sisters at the English Rectory. There would be room for courage, for energy, for endurance here, and she loved action. She felt like a strong young swimmer breasting the first turbulent, incoming wave as he leaves the shore.

Everyone praised the breakfast, and the cook was called in, beaming, to the tent and congratulated.

Then Everest and the other men went off to the gun tent to look up maps and plans and decide their route, the question of the servants they should take, the pack animals, the chance of native villages along the Nile where fresh provisions could be got, and all the hundred other things appertaining to camp life; and Regina, not caring for Sybil's society alone, went over to the sleeping tent and walked round it, admiring the beautiful camp furniture. Everest had provided everything so perfectly folding, collapsible and adjustable. Here a camp sofa, low and light yet steady, and there a folding breakfast-table fully equipped with tiny silvery kettles and cups and everything necessary for their early tea or coffee, that they would have here alone. And he had been so thoughtful for her too. There were a couple of new dust-proof trunks with perfect lids and locks that she might pack all her personal things in conveniently and be sure they would not be hurt, and quite a large mirror, because he knew she hated to be without one, with a wood flap to cover its face in travelling. She sat down at last in a folding-chair in the centre, and looked round, supremely content with her future residence.