succeeding sand-dunes, the sense of hours and
days becomes lost. With nothing in front of the eye but an infinity of
sky and distance and nothing active in that distance but dazzling heat,
moving over the desert, the mind becomes a part of the intense solitude.
The traveller's ego is comatized; he takes his place with the elements.

When the traveller's long day's march is done, the wonder of the starlit
nights makes his past life seem still more unreal. It has been truly
said that the solitary contemplation of the desert stars either for ever
convinces a doubter of the certainty of a God, or confirms his opinions
as an Atheist. When Michael was alone with the stars, the Sweet Singer
of Israel's words ever rang in his ears:

"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the
stars, which Thou hast ordained;

"What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou
visitest him?"

During the three days spent on camel-back in the desert nothing had
happened which the world calls happening. Michael's small equipment was
proving itself entirely satisfactory and sufficient for his needs. His
guide and his servants were both agreeable and obedient. His head-man or
guide was none other than the soothsayer who had predicted the
astonishing wealth of the tomb which Freddy had discovered. He had
travelled far and wide in the great Arabian Desert and he had also helped
at the excavations at Tel-el-Amarna.

Although apparently nothing had happened, no events which would bear
recording in the diary of a practical explorer, yet much had happened
which evaded the limitations of words. The things which had happened
were the great things which mattered to Michael's mind. They had
produced an extraordinary sense of repose; they had settled his nerves
and allowed his convictions to steadily develop, to emerge from shadowy
dreams. If he thought less constantly of Margaret as the days wore on,
it was with more satisfaction and confidence. He ceased to blame himself
for confessing his love; he accepted that also as an act of the guiding
Hand.

On the desert march Michael generally went at the head of his cavalcade.
He liked the wide sweep for the eye, the great expanse, undisturbed, even
by such picturesque figures as the natives on their camels. Over and
over again he rode for hours in a beautiful dream; he gave himself up to
the intoxication of immensity. At such times the thought