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to herself； and to understand； with it； how closely companioned even
those who strive after effacement of self are by selfishnesshow
closely companioned she had been on her African pilgrimage。 Everything
that had happened in Africa she had quietly taken to herself； as a
gift made to her for herself。
The peace that had descended upon her was balm for her soul； and was
sent merely for that； to stop the pain she suffered from old wounds
that she might be comfortably at rest。 The crescendothe beautiful
crescendoof calm； of strength； of faith； of hope which she had； as
it were； heard like a noble music within her spirit had been the David
sent to play upon the harp to her Saul； that from her Saul the black
demon of unrest； of despair； might depart。 That was what she had
believed。 She had believed that she had come to Africa for herself；
and now God； in the silence； was telling her that this was not so；
that He had brought her to Africa to sacrifice herself in the
redemption of another。 And as she listenedlistened； with bowed head；
and eyes in which tears were gathering； from which tears were falling
upon her clasped handsshe knew that it was true； she knew that God
meant her to put away her selfishness； to rise above it。 Those eagle's
wings of which she had thoughtshe must spread them。 She must soar
towards the place of the angels； whither good women soar in the great
moments of their love； borne up by the winds of God。 On the minaret of
the mosque of Sidi…Zerzour； while Androvsky remained in the dark
shadow with a curse； she had mounted； with prayer； surely a little way
towards God。 And now God said to her； 〃Mount higher； come nearer to
me； bring another with you。 That was my purpose in leading you to
Beni…Mora； in leading you far out into the desert； in leading you into
the heart of the desert。〃
She had been led to Africa for a definite end； and now she knew what
that end was。 On the mosque of the minaret of Sidi…Zerzour she had
surely seen prayer travelling； the soul of prayer travelling。 And she
had asked herself〃Whither？〃 She had asked herself where was the
halting…place； with at last the pitched tent； the camp fires； and the
long； the long repose？ And when she came down into the court of the
mosque and found Androvsky watching the old Arab who struck against
the mosque and cursed； she had wished that Androvsky had mounted with
her a little way towards God。
He should mount with her。 Always she had longed to see him above her。
Could she leave him below？ She knew she could not。 She understood that
God did not mean her to。 She understood perfectly。 And tears streamed
from her eyes。 For now there came upon her a full comprehension of her
love for Androvsky。 His revelation had not killed it； as； for a
moment； in her passionate personal anger； she had been inclined to
think。 Indeed it seemed to her now that； till this hour of silence；
she had never really loved him； never known how to love。 Even in the
tent at Arba she had not fully loved him； perfectly loved him。 For the
thought of self； the desires of self； the passion of self； had entered
into and been mingled with her love。 But now she loved him perfectly；
because she loved as God intended her to love。 She loved him as God's
envoy sent to him。
She was still weeping； but she began to feel calm； as if the stillness
of this hour before the dawn entered into her soul。 She thought of
herself now only as a vessel into which God was pouring His purpose
and His love。
Just as dawn was breaking； as the first streak of light stole into the
east and threw a frail spear of gold upon the sands； she was conscious
again of a thrill of life within her； of the movement of her unborn
child。 Then she lifted her head from her hand； looking towards the
east； and whispered：
〃Give me strength for one more thinggive me strength to be silent！〃
She waited as if for an answer。 Then she rose from her knees； bathed
her face and went out to the tent door to Androvsky。
〃Boris！〃 she said。
He rose from his knees and looked at her； holding the little wooden
crucifix in his hand。
〃Domini？〃 he said in an uncertain voice。
〃Put it back into your breast。 Keep it for ever； Boris。〃
As if mechanically； and not removing his eyes from her； he put the
crucifix into his breast。 After a moment she spoke again； quietly。
〃Boris； you never wished to stay here。 You meant to stay here for me。
Let us go away from Amara。 Let us go to…day； now； in the dawn。〃
〃Us！〃 he said。
There was a profound amazement in his voice。
〃Yes；〃 she answered。
〃Away from Amarayou and Itogether？〃
〃Yes； Boris； together。〃
〃Wherewhere can we go？〃
The amazement seemed to deepen in his voice。 His eyes were watching
her with an almost fierce intentness。 In a flash of insight she
realised that； just then； he was wondering about her as he had never
wondered before； wondering whether she was really the good woman at
whose feet his sin…stricken soul had worshipped。 Yes； he was asking
himself that question。
〃Boris；〃 she said； 〃will you leave yourself in my hands？ We have
talked of our future life。 We have wondered what we should do。 Will
you let me do as I will； let the future be as I choose？〃
In her heart she said 〃as God chooses。〃
〃Yes； Domini；〃 he answered。 〃I am in your hands； utterly in your
hands。〃
〃No；〃 she said。
Neither of them spoke after that till the sunlight lay above the
towers and minarets of Amara。 Then Domini said：
〃We will go to…daynow。〃
And that morning the camp was struck； and the new journey beganthe
journey back。
CHAPTER XXVIII
A silence had fallen between Domini and Androvsky which neither seemed
able to break。 They rode on side by side across the sands towards the
north through the long day。 The tower of Amara faded in the sunshine
above the white crests of the dunes。 The Arab villages upon their
little hills disappeared in the quivering gold。 New vistas of desert
opened before them； oases crowded with palms； salt lakes and stony
ground。 They passed by native towns。 They saw the negro gardeners
laughing among the rills of yellow water； or climbing with bare feet
the wrinkled tree trunks to lop away dead branches。 They heard tiny
goatherds piping； solitary； in the wastes。 Dreams of the mirage rose
and faded far off on the horizon； rose and faded mystically； leaving
no trembling trace behind。 And they were silent as the mirage； she in
her purpose； he in his wonder。 And the long day waned； and towards
evening the camp was pitched and the evening meal was prepared。 And
still they could not speak。
Sometimes Androvsky watched her； and there was a great calm in her
face； but there was no rebuke； no smallness of anger； no hint of
despair。 Always he had felt her strength of mind and body； but never
so much as now。 Could he rest on it？ Dared he？ He did not know。 And
the day seemed to him to become a dream； and the silence recalled to
him the silence of the monastery in which he had worshipped God before
the stranger came。 He thought that in this silence he ought to feel
that she was deliberately raising barriers between them； butit was
strangehe could not feel this。 In her silence there was no
bitterness。 When is there bitterness in strength？ He rode on and on
beside her； and his sense of a dream deepened； helped by the influence
of the desert。 Where were they going？ He did not know。 What was her
purpose？ He could not tell。 But he felt that she had a purpose； that
her mind was resolved。 Now and then； tearing himself with an effort
from the dream； he asked himself what it could be。 What could be in
store for him； for them； after the thing he had told？ What could be
their mutual life？ Must it not be for ever at an end？ Was it not
shattered？ Was it not dust； like the dust of the desert that rose
round their horses' feet？ The silence did not tell him； and again he
ceased from wondering and the dream closed round him。 Were they not
travelling in a mirage； mirage people； unreal； phantomlike； who would
presently fade away into the spaces of the sun？ The sand muffled the
tread of the horses' feet。 The desert understood their silence；
clothed it in a silence more vast and more impenetrable。 And Androvsky
had made his effort。 He had spoken the truth at last。 He could do no
more。 He was incapable of any further action。 As Domini felt herself
to be in the hands of God； he felt himself to be in the hands of this
woman who had received his confession with this wonderful calm； who
was leading him he knew not whither in this wonderful silence。
When the camp was pitched； however； he noticed something that caught
him sharply away from the dreamlike； unreal feeling； and set him face
to face with fact that was cold as steel。 Always till now the
dressing…tent had been pitched beside their sleeping…tent； with the
flap of the entrance removed so that the two tents communicated。
To…night it stood apart； near the sleeping…tent； and in it was placed
one of the small camp beds。 Androvsky was alone when he saw this。 On
reaching the halting…place he had walked a little way into the desert。
When he returned he found this change。 It told him something of what
was passing in Domini's min