the
world, and her sane mind formed sound opinions and pronounced fair
judgments, tempered by the kindliness of an unusually large and
generous heart.

Just now she was considering the view and finding it very good. Its
strong contrasts held her.

On one side lay the fertile Delta, with its groves of waving palm,
orange, and olive trees, growing in rich profusion on the banks of the
Nile, a broad band of gleaming silver. On the other, the Desert, with
its far-distant horizon, stretching away in undulations of golden sand;
not a tree, not a leaf, not a blade of grass, but boundless liberty, an
ocean of solid golden glory. For the sun was setting, and the sky
flamed into colour.

"A parting of the ways," said Jane; "a place of choice. How difficult
to know which to choose--liberty or fruitfulness. One would have to
consult the Sphinx--wise old guardian of the ages, silent keeper of
Time's secrets, gazing on into the future as It has always gazed, while
future became present, and present glided into past.--Come, Schehati,
let us descend. Oh, yes, I will certainly sit upon the stone on which
the King sat when he was Prince of Wales. Thank you for mentioning it.
It will supply a delightful topic of conversation next time I am
honoured by a few minutes of his gracious Majesty's attention, and will
save me from floundering into trite remarks about the weather.--And now
take me to the Sphinx, Schehati. There is a question I would ask of It,
just as the sun dips below the horizon."

CHAPTER XIII

THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX

Moonlight in the desert.

Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the piazza of the hotel, that
she might lose as little as possible of the mystic loveliness of the
night. The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear white
light; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more mystery.

Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight presently. Meanwhile
she lay back in a low wicker chair, comfortably upholstered, sipping
her coffee, and giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which,
in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion.

Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came to her this evening,
perhaps brought about by the associations of moonlight.

"The moon shines bright:--in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise--"

Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart of a vivid reminder
to the