Burning Sands Part 36

She did not altogether understand what the trouble was about. Daniel had attacked her so suddenly, just when she had been wholly engaged in attacking him. So far as she could make out, he had been angry with her because she had made a fuss about his relationship with Lizette. "I suppose," she thought to herself, "he thinks a woman oughtn't to question a man's movements, or know anything about what he is doing when he is not with her. It doesn't seem fair somehow...."

She did not in the least realize that Daniel's hostility had been aroused by her belief that there was anything between him and Lizette, and by her readiness, in spite of that belief, to overlook his supposed deception as soon as she had vented her feelings by a brief show of temper. She felt that he had been harsh, and rather brazen about the whole thing; and yet, so greatly did she yearn for his love, she was prepared to forgive even his brutality.

She turned to her companion. "I don't think I can wait till the morning," she said. "I'm going to ride over to his camp now, and say I'm sorry. It's only a mile out of the way, and I'll be home almost as soon as you."

Kate was sympathetic. "Go on, then," she replied. "I'll hint to the others that you've got a stomach-ache or something, and have ridden on.

And let me see more colour in that old mug of yours when you get back."

She leant forward in her saddle, and struck her companion's horse with her cane, so that he went off at a gallop across the sand.

Bearing off to the left, Muriel soon described the head of rock which overlooked the camp; but approaching it thus from the south she knew that the tents would not come into view until she had rounded this ridge.

She had no idea what she was going to say. She thought only that she would go into his tent, where she would probably find him writing at his table; and she would put her arms about him, and tell him that she could not live under his displeasure.

At last she reached the rocks; and, as she rode round them, she drew up her reins and prepared to dismount. Then, with horrible suddenness, the truth was, as it were flung at her. Where she had thought to see the tents, there was only a patch of broken-up sand, a few bits of paper and straw, and innumerable footprints.

She uttered a little cry of dismay, and, with wide, frightened eyes, gazed about her. The footprints of the camels pa.s.sed in a thin line out to the west, and she could see them winding away into the silent desert.

CHAPTER XXIII-THE NATURE OF WOMEN

Kate Bindane had just gone up to her room and was standing there alone, examining herself disapprovingly in the long mirror, when Muriel staggered in, her face white, her knees giving way.

"Kate!" she cried. "He's gone!"

She threw herself down on the floor in front of a low arm-chair, and spreading her arms across its seat, buried her face in them.

Her friend stood perfectly still for a few moments, staring down at her in amazement. She had never before seen Muriel give way to uncontrolled grief in this manner; and she was frightened by the terrible rasping of her m.u.f.fled sobs, and by the convulsive heaving of her shoulders. She did not know what to do, and her hands hesitated uncertainly between the whiskey-bottle standing on a shelf and the smelling-salts upon the dressing-table near to it.

At last, discarding the stimulants, she knelt down by her friend's side, and put her strong arm around her. The tears had come into her own eyes, and as she patted Muriel's shoulder, she fumbled for her handkerchief with her disengaged hand.

"Hush, hush, my darling!" she whispered. "Tell me what has happened."

"He's gone," Muriel sobbed. "The camp's gone. I saw the track of his camels leading away into the desert."

She could say no more, and for a considerable time continued her pa.s.sionate weeping.

At length she raised her head. "There are only some bits of paper and things left," she moaned; and therewith she returned to her bitter tears.

Kate rose to her feet. "I am going to 'phone your father," she said, "and ask him what has happened."

She gave Muriel an encouraging pat, and hastened into the adjoining sitting-room, where a telephone was affixed to the wall. A few minutes later she was speaking to Lord Blair, asking him the reason of Daniel's departure.

"We've just seen the deserted site of his camp," she said, "and poor Muriel is in floods of tears."

"Dear, dear!" came the reply. "Poor girl! Tell her Daniel has only gone away for a short time. I have had to send him to the Oases on business, that's all."

"Rather sudden, wasn't it?" queried Kate.

Lord Blair coughed. "Daniel is always very prompt to act, when action has to be taken," he said.

"Didn't he leave any note or message for Muriel?"

"No, none," was the reply. "He went away in a great hurry. Am I to expect Muriel back to dinner?"

"With her eyes bunged up?" exclaimed Kate, impatiently. "Of course not.

I'll send her back to you in the morning. Hav'n't you anything to say to comfort her?"

There was a pause. "Yes," he replied at length, "tell her I've just seen Ada going upstairs with two bandboxes. She says they are new night-dresses from Maison Duprez."

Kate uttered a contemptuous grunt. "That's the last thing to tell her!"

she exclaimed. "Good-night."

She slammed down the receiver, and, going back to her bedroom, repeated to Muriel her father's explanation of Daniel's departure. This brought some comfort into the girl's forlorn heart; and a second outburst of tears, which occurred an hour or so later, was due more to a kind of self-pity, perhaps, than to despair.

"It's so unkind of him," she cried, "to go off without even saying good-bye, or leaving a note."

"But from what I gather," Kate replied, "he doesn't think you really care much about him."

"Ah, I do, I do," Muriel wailed, wringing her hands.

"Well, you know," Kate commented, somewhat brutally, "seeing how you've been carrying on this last month, I shouldn't have said myself that you were really stuck on him."

"You don't understand," Muriel moaned. "I wanted to be properly engaged to him, but he wouldn't hear of it-I told you at the time. I don't believe he ever wanted to marry me at all," she exclaimed, pa.s.sionately.

"I believe he only wanted me to run away with him."

Suddenly she looked up, with a curious light in her face. "I wonder...."

She paused. She recalled the words he had said when he first knew her: "Why don't you break loose?" And then last night he had said: "I shall never get to the real you until you cut loose from all this." Could it be that the manner of his going away was meant to be a sort of silent gesture, a beckoning to her to follow?

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that her tears dried upon her face; and presently Kate was able to induce her to make somewhat more than a pretence of tasting the little dinner which had been sent up to them.

Later in the evening, when Benifett Bindane had come upstairs, and when Muriel had gone to her own room, Kate told her husband that she would sleep that night with her friend.

"As you wish, my dear," he answered pleasantly. "You must help her to get over this business. She'll soon live it down, I expect."

Kate looked annoyed. "You needn't be so d.a.m.ned cheerful about it," she said. "I sometimes think you haven't got a heart at all."

He sat down loosely, and stared at her for some moments, as though about to make a profound remark.

"Spit it out," said Kate encouragingly.

"I was just thinking," he droned, "that I shall probably get Lane as our General Manager after all."

She turned upon him. "Oh, you cold-blooded brute! It's always business first with you. I suppose you're hoping he'll never want to come back to Cairo."

"Well," he mused, "he evidently feels that life in the Oases suits him better."