had put somebody else in my mother's place, and spoiled all the
beautiful romance."

"My father's romance with my mother was like a strange poem, for she was
the daughter of Catholic Spanish people, who had an orange plantation
near Blida, and wished her to enter a convent. But my father rode by
with some French officers and saw her on her way to church. That one
look decided their whole lives. Yes, it would have been a pity to spoil
their romance; yet, keeping its poetry is spoiling mine."

"You mean your Aunt Mabrouka. But a stepmother might be worse."

"No, it isn't only Aunt Mabrouka I am thinking of. It is her son, who is
my father's heir because he has no son of his own. My father is very
enlightened in many ways, but in others he is as narrow and hard as the
rest of our people, who hold to their old customs more firmly than they
hold to life. My father intends me for the wife of Si Tahar, who met and
brought you to our house."

Sanda could not keep back a little gasp of dismay. "Oh, no! it's not
possible!" she cried. "You're so beautiful, and so fair. He's
so--so----"

"Hideous. Don't be afraid to say the word to me. I love you for it. But
because Tahar's not deformed from birth, and the strength and beauty of
the line isn't threatened, his looks make no difference to my father. To
him it seems far more important that I should be the wife of the heir,
so that money and land need not be divided after his death, than that I
should love my husband before my marriage. You see, that can hardly
ever happen to a girl of our race and religion. If Tahar were not my
cousin I should never even have seen him, nor he me. And if I had not
seen him, it would perhaps be a little better, for there would be the
excitement and mystery of the unknown. We are brought up to expect that;
and if already I hadn't learned to dislike Tahar for his own sake and
his mother's, I should be no worse off than other girls--except for one
thing: _the great thing of my life_."

Her voice fell lower than before, and her companion on the wall had to
bend close to catch the whisper. "What is that thing?" Sanda dropped the
words into a frightened pause, while Ourieda's glance went quickly to
the well of the staircase.

"It is what I came here to tell you about," the Arab girl answered. "I
forced myself to wait, but now I am sure of you as if you were my own
sister. We are going to open our hearts to each other. Do you know what
it is to have a