“And if I say no?” asked Cecil, looking away over the river. “Now you are trying me, to see what I shall say,” he said. “You know, if I said what I feel, it would be that I should throw up this place at once and go off into the desert with the Arabs; and I know that what you would like me to say would be that I should go on here working steadily, as if nothing had happened. Well, dear, I will try, but it will be awfully hard.” Cecil was touched to the heart. “Oh, Charlie, my poor boy!” she cried, impulsively, and put her hands into his. He took them doubtfully, not daring to accept the happy omen the action suggested. “Cecil, is it really--do you mean yes?” he asked, with bated breath. “Yes, I do,” said Cecil, hurriedly. “I have been a horrid, calculating, conceited wretch. I’ve looked down on you, and laughed at you, and never thought how much better you were than I was all the time. I wish I was more worthy of you, Charlie.” “You? of me?” he asked. “Cecil, dear, don’t laugh at me now. You really mean that you can love me? I don’t want you to marry me out of pity, or anything that would make you unhappy. I can stand anything rather than that.” “But I do mean yes,” murmured Cecil, brokenly. “But you are crying,” he said, with a man’s usual tact in such matters. “I’m not,” said Cecil, indignantly. “Well, I suppose I’m homesick. No, it’s not that. It’s because I have been wanting you so much all this time, and you have come back at last.” “Please God, you shall never regret my coming back, dear,” he said, gently, and drew her head down on his shoulder, where she cried bitterly, to her own great astonishment and his alarm. It was not at first that she could explain to him the mental conflict and strain of the past few months, but she was able to assure him that her tears did not spring from regret for the promise she had just given, and they sat there on the parapet talking for a long time. Engrossed in each other, they did not notice a long line of torch-bearers and horsemen approaching the Residency from the direction of the Palace, and they were struck with surprise when Mrs Hagopidan appeared suddenly at the top of the steps, and looking studiously the wrong way, cried in a thrilling whisper-- “Dr Egerton, you must go down at once. Azim Bey is at the door, and Sir Dugald was asking for you. If you don’t put in an appearance, there’ll be trouble. Do go at once.” “That abominable child!” cried Charlie, and obeyed. CHAPTER XVI. A MURDEROUS INTENT. “Well, dear?” cried Mrs Hagopidan, rushing to Cecil’s side, as Charlie precipitated himself down the stairs, hurried across the courtyard, and arrived at the gate just in time to take his place behind Sir Dugald as the great doors were thrown open for Azim Bey’s entrance, “is it all settled? You are glad now that I brought you here on false pretences? Do tell me, have you enjoyed the hour or so which you have spent in admiring the view?”