The White Prophet, Volume 1 (of 2)Caine, Hall, Sir
General
The White Prophet, Volume 1 (of 2)
Caine, Hall, Sir
British -- Egypt -- Fiction; Egypt -- Fiction
When she reached her destination the Surgeon was out on his evening
round of the hospital, so she wrote a hurried note asking him to come to
the General’s house immediately, sent his assistant in search of him,
and then turned back.
Returning hurriedly by the "married quarters," she was detained for some
moments by a soldier’s wife, a young thing, almost a child, who stood at
the door of her house with a red woollen shawl about her shoulders, a
baby in long clothes in her arms, and a look of radiant happiness in her
round face.
"Ye’ve not seen ’im yet, have ye, Miss?" said the little mother, holding
out her baby to be admired. "Only six weeks old and ’e weighs ten
pounds. Colonel says as ’ow ’e’s a credit to the reg’ment, and I’m
agoin’ to shorten ’im soon. To-morrow I’m ’avin’ ’im photoed to send to
mother. She lives in Clerkenwell, Miss, and she ain’t likely to show
’is photo to nobody in our court. Oh no!"
Helena did her best to play up to the pride of the little Cockney
mother, and was turning to go when the girl said—
"But my Harry tells me as how you’re to be married yourself soon, so I
wish ye joy, and many of ’em."
"Good-bye, Mrs. Dimmock," said Helena, but the young thing was not yet
done. With a look of wondrous wisdom she said—
"They’re a deal of trouble, Miss, but there ain’t no love in the house
without ’em. As mother says, they keeps the pot a-boilin’," and she was
ducking down her head to kiss the child as Helena hurried away.
In the bright light of the young mother’s life and the breadth of shadow
that lay upon her own, Helena thought of Gordon and her anger rose
against him again, but at the next moment she saw him in her mind’s eye
as she had seen him last, going out of the garden, a broken, bankrupt
man, and then her eyes filled and it was as much as she could do to see
her way.
In the quickening flow of her emotion this riot in her heart between
anger with Gordon and with herself only led to deeper hatred of the
Egyptian, and even the memory of his dignity and largeness in the single
moment in which she had looked upon him made her wrath the more intense.
A vague fear, an indefinite forewarning, hardly able yet to assume a
shape, was beginning to take possession of her. She recalled the scene
she had left behind her in the General’s office, the two men face to
face, as if in the act of personal quarrel, and told herself that if
anything happened to her father as the result of the excitement caused
by the meeting, the Egyptian would be the cause of it.
In her impatience to be back she began to run. How broad the parade
ground was! The air, too, was so close and lifeless. The sun had
nearly set, the arms of night were closing round the day, but still the
sky was a hot, dark red like the inside of a transparent shell that had
a smouldering fire outside of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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