"I don't know, Mike." Her voice was very gentle. "I don't see how you can help me."

"I can pray," he said. "I will pray. Perhaps that is where I have been to blame. I have left you out of my prayers."

Millicent looked at him. Her eyes questioned.

"I have thought only of myself, my own safety, the keeping of my thoughts pure and true to Meg, my fight for self-control."

"Oh, Mike!" Millicent's voice was crushed, envious.

"I should have tried to help you as well. We can all help each other by prayers and thoughts and beliefs, belief in the kingdom of G.o.d which is in us. I behaved as if you were not divine, Millicent."

"I'm not. How can I be divine? I am absolutely worldly--I've no wish for your divine love!"

"Divinity is in you," he said. "It is yours, you cannot get away from it." He paused. "You were ashamed just now--that was the light which cannot be put out. Now, every day, I will try to be less selfish, I will pray for you. Prayer will help to bring you into the light. Soon you will begin to peep into the kingdom of G.o.d which is in you. You will see how wonderful it is. Love will hold out its arms to you from every pa.s.sing cloud, from every comer of the wilderness. I am to blame, for I only tried to banish you, instead of helping you. I must begin to-day. We must all help each other by our thoughts as well as by our actions. Do you understand? I, who ought to have known better, have failed."

Millicent took his hand and raised it to her lips. "Why should G.o.d have so blessed Margaret Lampton?" she said. "She is your 'guarded lady,' as Ha.s.san would say."

"When you know her better, you will see that it is not Meg, but I, who have been blessed, I who have reason to be thankful. Margaret's thoughts constantly reach me; they have helped me over and over again."

"Will you forgive me, Mike?"

"Of course I will," he said. "Else how could I help you?"

"It's your very goodness I love, Michael. I realize that. And yet how horribly I have tried to spoil it!"

"We are going to start afresh, we understand each other." He looked at her with sincere eyes. "Isn't that so? Do you want me for your friend, Millicent?"

"More than anything in the world . . . except . . ." she paused.

". . . except . . ."

His eyes held hers; they became stern. "We have settled all that. You know now that it can never be, and if I am to be your friend, you must forget all that you have ever said."

"Yes, yes--the crumbs, Mike, they are sweeter than nothing."

"My help," he said, "and sympathy--that is what I can give you."

"And may I remain in your camp for a little time?"

"No." His voice was firm. "We must part. But that will make no difference. I will help you, I promise. I can help you as Margaret helps me."

Millicent made no demur. It was useless. "Will the saint be well enough to travel to-morrow, do you think?"

"I don't know. His headache was better this morning. If he can retain some food, he may soon pick up."

"And you will go on to Akhnaton's tomb?" Millicent did not refer to the buried treasure.

"Whenever he is better." Michael looked at his watch. "We had better be going back," he said. "I want to make preparations."

"And I am to return to civilization!"

Michael did not answer. He called Ha.s.san. "We are ready, Ha.s.san," he said.

In a short time they were off.

Before mounting her camel Millicent said: "Thank you, Michael. I don't deserve your kindness."

On their homeward journey Michael's heart held many a prayer. He was no longer merely to turn this woman out of his thoughts, to thrust her behind him, a thing of Satan. He was to help her. He was to help her until such a time as she could help herself. He was to bring her mind to the consciousness of the truth. He was to reveal to her, by his prayers, what Akhnaton taught his people--that G.o.d is happiness, G.o.d is beauty, G.o.d is Love.

CHAPTER VI

It was close upon sundown when Michael and Millicent got back to the camp. Abdul had come a little way to meet them. To an observant eye, the calm of his Eastern countenance showed some anxiety. Millicent did not see it. Michael was riding on ahead when Abdul met him. Abdul turned his mule and rode by his master's side.

"You have something to tell me, Abdul?"

"_Aiwah_, Effendi, I have something to tell you."

They increased the s.p.a.ce between themselves and the camels which were following them in Indian file. Abdul spoke in Arabic, as he always did to his master. When he had confided his secret to Michael he lapsed into silence. The Effendi looked very grave. The news was far from pleasant.

"You need not tell Madam," Michael said. "Not until you are quite sure, Abdul. It will only alarm her."

"_Aiwah_, Effendi, I gave it to your ears alone."

"How is he?" Michael referred to the saint.

"His temperature has fallen--head no longer aches. That is always the case."

"You have done all that is necessary?"

"All I could do, Effendi. Madam has good medicines, praise be to Allah! We can be hopeful."

They rode on to the camp in silence. Michael's thoughts were busy.

What would Millicent say? Would she be afraid? The idea was not pleasant.

When they had dismounted Michael went at once to see the saint and Millicent hurried off to her tent to change her dusty garments for daintier ones. She was still penitent and half-ashamed. Who knows but that Michael's efforts to help her were already beginning to bear fruit? If thoughts can purify, Millicent's heart should have been as fair as a white lotus flower whose roots are in the mud. Michael's thoughts had baptized it.

When she had tidied up and was beautifully fresh in her snow-white muslin frock, she went outside and waited for the dinner-gong to sound.

Even that item of civilization had not been forgotten--it is true it was only a drum, an earthen _darabukkeh_, but it filled its purpose well. Its dull thud, thud, had scarcely ceased vibrating the air when Michael appeared. As he came towards her, Millicent went to meet him.

He had not yet changed his day clothes.

"Don't come near me!" he called out. "Not any further."

"Why not?" Millicent said. "What's the matter? Are you stricken with the plague?" She spoke laughingly.

Michael stopped within a few feet of her. "Perhaps I am stricken with the smallpox," he said. "The saint has got it--it may be of a very malignant order. We don't know."