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Updated: May 13, 2025
Donovan Pasha went with her to the room with the mud floor where Kingsley Bey was confined. "I owe it all to you," she said as they hastened across the sun-swept square. "Ah, but you have atoned! You have done it all at once, after these long years." "Well, well, the time is ripe," said Dicky piously. They found Kingsley Bey reading the last issue of the French newspaper published in Cairo.
And suddenly, as though a miracle had been wrought, she saw upon the lawn, riding toward her, a man in scarlet, blue, and silver. One man riding alone. Approaching with confidence, but alert; his reins fallen, his hands nursing his carbine, his eyes searched the shadows of the trees, the empty windows, even the sun-swept sky. His was the new face at the door, the new step on the floor.
But her vision, leaning on his heart, was of those two still and close together, nestling beneath Love's protecting wings, while between their hands she felt the fingers of a little child. That night Mary and Stefan spoke only of love, but the morning brought plans. Before breakfast they were together, pacing the sun-swept deck.
"Poor little wife," he mumbled; "poor little unborn baby! You'll hope, through the long years, waiting for me to come back and you'll never know!" His faltering gaze wandered down the canyon where his own tracks and those of the dead shone gray against the brown of the sun-swept wash.
Off came the silk hats of the frock-coated graduates and the plaided golf caps of the students, and side by side there in the sun-swept street they lifted their voices in the sweet, measured strains of the dear familiar hymn.
His primitive soul knew a better law, "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," a law that knew no caste and was as old as the sun-swept spaces of his native land. He was glad that his daughter had not been there. The white men might have threatened and insulted her.
Donovan Pasha went with her to the room with the mud floor where Kingsley Bey was confined. "I owe it all to you," she said as they hastened across the sun-swept square. "Ah, but you have atoned! You have done it all at once, after these long years." "Well, well, the time is ripe," said Dicky piously. They found Kingsley Bey reading the last issue of the French newspaper published in Cairo.
No human foot has trod it. Into that blue shadow only the eye of God has looked. Listen to the accents of that gorge which mutters: "Before Abraham was, I am." Is yonder wall a hedge of black or is it the rampart between heaven and hell? I see greens, is it moss or giant pines? I see specks that may be boulders. Ever the winds sigh and drop into those sun-swept silences.
Across another sun-swept meadow he rode, and into the timber again and before he realized it he was back on the mountain trail that led to the valley. He took the first long, easy grade on the run, checked at the switchback, and pounded down the succeeding grade, still under cover of the hillside timber, but rapidly nearing the more open country of brush and rock.
The blood thudded and rang in his veins; he feasted his eyes on the curve of her neck and the radiance of her sun-swept hair. He stretched out his hands, but ere he could speak she raised a white, terrified face, and glanced over her shoulder. "Who touched me?" she gasped, her voice shrill with fear, "who touched me?" And she sprang to her feet.
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