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 God is happiness, God is
beauty, God 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 space 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