CHAPTER IVGOVERNOR OF HAIFA
Montella was alone in his study, with books and papers scattered on the table before him; but although he was apparently reading, very little of the printed matter penetrated so far as his brain. Deep in thought, his brow was furrowed with lines which should not have appeared on the forehead of so young a man; indeed, his whole appearance bore evidence to the fact that he had been severely tried. It was possible that the responsibility of governing the English portion of Palestine weighed too heavily upon his shoulders, or that he took upon himself more than was absolutely necessary for the welfare of his people. Certain it was that his energies were boundless, and that nothing was too great for him to achieve; but he could not spend himself without losing some of his inherent vitality, and while he was indefatigable in his efforts for the public good, his own health suffered from lack of care.
There is nothing which ages a human being so quickly as worry; and of this Montella had his share. The race for wealth among the Europeans in Palestine was keener even than it had been in the West, and the unscrupulous greed of the people, who, in the ardour of competition would financially cut each other’s throats, grieved him more than he cared toown. Not satisfied with comfort and peace in the new land, their one desire was to attain to wealth, the means to which entailed the cost of suffering to hundreds less fortunate than themselves. To Montella it was like a disease, sapping the moral strength of the people at the very root; but neither he nor his colleagues were able to conquer it; all they could do was to deprecate the evil.
And now there was a new difficulty with which to contend. Montella had seen it coming almost from the first, but he had ever done his best to drive it back. It arose from the relations twixt civil and religious Judaism, and threatened to cause a serious split in the camp. The Chief Rabbi of Palestine, Ben Yetzel, desired to exercise supreme authority in imitation of the papal power, whereas Montella and his party opposed despotism in religious matters, and favoured freedom of thought. To those who wished for progress and the civilising influences of the West, rigid orthodoxy was well-nigh impossible, and they chafed beneath its yoke; but the sacerdotal dignitaries declared that the loosening of the ceremonial ties would eventually mean the downfall of Judaism, and insisted on the strict enforcement of the letter of the law. It was the old well-known quarrel between Church and State, each striving for the mastery, and neither prepared to grant the concessions which would make for peace. And the Jews, although lacking nothing in astuteness, were unable to profit by the experience of other countries once similarly placed. They were obliged to learn their hard lesson alone.
The Chief Rabbi’s recent visit to Haifa had been an inauspicious event. Although famed for his pietyand scholarship, the great man’s views were of necessity cramped by his narrow surroundings. He might have been a Hillel or a Gamaliel had he lived in Hillel’s day; but he could not realise the doctrine of evolution with regard to the moral nature of man; and to him the world continued in the same stage of development as it existed two thousand years ago. Therefore there were many customs of the English Jews in Haifa of which he keenly disapproved; and that the Governor’s wife should be of Gentile birth but added to his ire. Montella, ardent upholder of Judaism though he ever remained, was at the same time clear-headed and rational, and had no patience with the Talmudic narrowness which converted a thoughtful man into a mere automaton. His principles of sincerity and truth abolished all the ceremonial observances which had degenerated into empty forms; and he hated anything approaching priest-craft, even though it were Jewish. His opinions, happily for himself, were shared by the most intelligent of his colleagues, who openly showed their resentment towards the interference of Ben Yetzel; but the majority agreed that every religious body should have its head, and respected the Chief Rabbi’s position too much to presume to criticise his views.
A Hebrew letter from Ben Yetzel lay on the young man’s desk, and it was this which caused his present thoughtful mood. Taking up a pen, he began to translate his reply, but with a sudden gesture of impatience he tossed it aside. At the same moment the door opened slowly to admit a small boy in a white frock, and accepting this as a welcome interruption to his work, he drew back his chair. The littlelad ran up to him with a chuckle of delight, and clambered on to his knee.
“Daddy, I’se tum!” he exclaimed, giving voice to an obvious fact. “I’se here, daddy, wif oo!”
Montella’s face brightened.
“What a naughty little boy to run away,” he answered lovingly. “What have you done with nurse?”
“Nanna up’tairs in garden wif mammy,” was his prompt reply. “Me ’tay here.”
Then he rested his golden head against his father’s coat, and gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction. A few minutes later he was fast asleep.
He was a beautiful boy, and his pink cheeks glowed with health. In spite of the fairness of his hair and complexion, his eyes were dark, and fringed with long lashes of dusky brown. To his parents he was an endless source of pleasure and amusement, and nothing delighted them more than to notice his comical little ways. Montella carried him up to the roof-garden, and gave him over to the nurse. It was his usual hour of sleep.
“I think he has been running about too much,” his mother said, as the maid bore him away. “It is easy to get over-tired in this heat. And you, darling, you look fagged. Can’t you take a little rest?”
He threw himself down in the deck-chair at her side, and having asked permission, prepared to smoke. Patricia applied the match to his cigar, and then leant back with an expression of content.
“It is good to have you with me, Lal,” she said softly. “You have had so little time to spare lately for baby and me.”
He glanced into her clear blue eyes with compunction.
“Never mind, sweet, I will make up for it later on,” he replied cheerfully. “When I get my full staff of assistants I shall not have so much to do. What with Ben Yetzel pulling one way and Engelmacher another, it takes me all my time to steer clear between the two. However, I don’t want to worry you with those affairs; let us throw dull care to the winds.”
“The Chief Rabbi does not like me,” Patricia said thoughtfully. “I felt, all the time he was here, that he disapproved of everything I did. I wonder why?”
“Because he is a confounded idiot,” rejoined her husband, with heat. “If you had been an old Polish woman with ascheitel[9]he would have taken you to his heart. It’s jealousy, my dearest, nothing else. He doesn’t like the idea of my having such a sweet and beautiful woman for a wife. I suppose, too, he considers you a sort of heathen because you are not of Jewish birth.”
9. Wig.
9. Wig.
“I think I am a sort of heathen,” the girl repeated slowly, with thoughtful eyes. “I am no more a Jewess at heart than our baby is a Jew. I have tried to love the Jewish religion for your sake, Lal, but I can’t succeed. It seems so full of ceremonies which are beyond my comprehension, and which puzzle me dreadfully. I am afraid you must be very disappointed in me, dear.”
“Not at all. I never expected you to follow in my mother’s steps.Shehas all the claims of ancestry and old association to make her love her faith; you have nothing except your love for me.”
“It is of our child I am thinking,” she continued quietly. “How can I teach him his faith as a mother ought to do?”
“Leave it to his grandmother,” Montella advised carelessly. “It will be a task after her own heart. There is no need to worry yourself about that, dear; I assure you little Julian will grow up a strict enough Jew.”
Patricia sighed.
“I am glad you are not dissatisfied with me, Lionel,” she said, placing her hand within his own. “Sometimes I have thought—and Lady Montella has hinted—that you would have been happier with a Jewish wife.”
Lionel sat bolt upright and pressed her hand to his lips. “Stuff and nonsense,” he returned, with indignation. “You will make me very angry if you have such foolish thoughts. I would not exchange you for all the Jewesses in the world.” Then he laughed at the idea conjured up by his last sentence, but added seriously, “Has my mother said anything to make you unhappy, dear?”
“Oh, no, nothing at all. It is not what she says—” She broke off abruptly, and was silent for a moment, whilst the colour rushed into her cheeks. “I love you so passionately, Lionel, that I cannot bear to think there is any flaw in your love for me,” she continued hurriedly. “And when these Jewish ceremonies crop up, they seem like barriers to drive us away from each other. And I thought when Ben Yetzel was here that you were a little bit ashamed of my ignorance of the Jewish laws. And that is why—because I love you—I have been so anxious to learn.”
She nestled her head against his shoulder, and a tear fell with a splash on to his coat. Montellawas startled beyond measure, for she was a woman who seldom wept. Either she was suffering from debility, or there must be some serious cause for her emotion. Hastily he jumped to the former conclusion—his beloved could not be well.
“My darling!” he exclaimed, in dismay, tenderly stroking her hair. “Whatever has happened to give you such ideas? I’m afraid I have left you too much to yourself of late; I am such a selfish creature when I get wrapped up in my work. Why, Patricia, don’t you know what people think of you in Haifa? You are the most admired woman in the town, and the most respected. And you have endeared yourself to the heart of everyone by going so much amongst the poor. Do you want me to tell you that you are my queen, and that with you at my side, I am the most fortunate man in the world? Because that is the truth, and you ought to know it without needing to be told!”
He could not say more; and his words were uttered with heartfelt sincerity. Patricia, duly comforted, dried her eyes, and a smile like a burst of sunshine after rain illumined her face. Feeling that he could not settle down to work again, her husband fetched her hat and gloves, and together they sauntered through the white streets and across the market square. Their destination, as usual, proved to be the new house, the inevitable magnet which drew him towards itself whenever he had a little time to spare. The builders and decorators were still hard at work, and the sound of the hammers as they fell rhythmically upon the stone greeted them as they approached. A sloping avenue of palm-trees led up to the principal entrance, and the house, situated ona slight eminence, commanded a fine view. From the observatory, which was nearly completed, the mountain ranges of Galilee and Phœnicia, stretching away to Lebanon and Hermon in the distance, could be seen, as well as the Bay of Acre and Mediterranean Sea. The position was the best that could possibly have been obtained; for if there were but a breath of air stirring it would be obliged to find its way here. Patricia already felt the difference as she seated herself on the one chair of which the roof boasted, and drew a deep breath of relief. Montella left her for a few minutes while he went to give a few directions in various languages to the cosmopolitan band of workmen; but in a very few minutes he was back again.
“Your boudoir is nearly finished, dear,” he said, with jubilance in his tone. “Would you like to come down and see it? You might make some further suggestions before it is too late.”
She rose with alacrity, and they descended the handsome staircase arm-in-arm. All the rooms were situated on the ground floor, most of them abutting on the atrium, in the centre of which was to be erected a fountain in a colossal marble basin. The boudoir adjoined the night-nursery, and was octagonal in shape. It was decorated in white and gold, but the hangings were of old rose, Patricia’s favourite hue. The furniture had just arrived, and some of the pictures already adorned the walls. One, a small oil-painting of the Thames near Chertsey, had hung in her old boudoir in Grosvenor Square, and called up a flood of old and half-forgotten memories. She sank on to the silken covered settee, whilst her husband went on a tour of inspection, and gave herselfup to a dreamy recollection of the past. How dull and prosy it had been in her father’s house, and how depressing the magnificence of the silent rooms. It seemed almost impossible to believe that she had existed for so long with only the companionship of the phlegmatic Mrs. Lowther, except for the occasional visits of the Countess of Chesterwood to break the dreary monotony. What a change the advent of Lionel had been! He had transformed her life, had given a zest and interest of which she had never dreamed, had flooded her heart with the sunshine of his love. How noble he was, and brave, and good! She glanced up at his stalwart figure with shining eyes. She at least had no cause to long for the past.
“Well, what do you think of it, Patricia?” he said playfully, returning to her side. “Does it meet with your little ladyship’s approval? Are you satisfied?”
“More than satisfied!” she exclaimed, with ardour. “The house will be a perfect paradise. But, do you know, Lal, it all seems unreal.”
“Unreal?” he repeated, in perplexity. “How? It is substantial enough—built of stone throughout.”
“Yes, I know. I didn’t mean that. I cannot realise, somehow, that this is to be our own house. It is more like a fairy palace than Grosvenor Square.”
Lionel laughed, well pleased.
“If this is a fairy palace, you are the fairy queen,” he replied gallantly. “You shall hold your court in the atrium, and all Haifa will come and do you homage. Ah, you do not know what pleasant things are in store for you when we have established ourselves here!”
Patricia answered him with a smile, but a sigh soon took its place. This peculiar air of unreality alwaysaffected her when she went over this new house. She could not imagine herself domestically settled in the place, and although the arrival of the furniture introduced a more home-like appearance, this feeling still remained. It was almost like a premonition—a presentiment that although the house was being built especially for her, although everything in it had been chosen in accordance with her own taste, all the care and thought had been in vain, for the simple reason that fate ordained that she should never live in it. It was so unaccountable and inexplicable that she would not mar her husband’s satisfaction in the place by worrying him with this foolish fancy. But the fancy, foolish or not, remained; and the oftener they visited the house the more certain she became that the magnificent edifice would never be her home.
Having completed their inspections, they walked leisurely back to the Government House, where a surprise in the shape of Dr. Engelmacher awaited them. The good doctor was passing through Haifaen routefor Beyrout, and intended to stay for two or three days. Knowing that the two men were anxious to talk over communal matters, Patricia left them to themselves. In the library she found Lady Montella and Raie.
Her mother-in-law looked up with a smile.
“I want to ask you something, Patricia,” she said, making room for her on the couch. “Do you remember Miss Lorm?”
“Zillah Lorm,” put in Raie, desiring to be more explicit. “A dark girl, with nice eyes, splendid figure, and stand-offish manner. You know her, Patricia; she sings.”
“Yes, I know her,” Patricia answered readily. “She is in England, is she not?”
Lady Montella referred to the letter she held in her hand.
“She was; but she will be in Haifa very soon,” was her reply. “Assimilation does not seem to have agreed with her very well, and she is evidently hankering after the Jews in spite of her former desire to forget her origin. She writes that on account of a disappointment—of which she gives no particulars—she is very unhappy, and wishes to join us here for a time. As I have known her for many years, I should like to invite her to stay with us for two or three months; but I would not do so without first consulting you.”
Raie made a little grimace.
“I am sure you do not want her, do you, Patricia?” she interrupted, with a comically defiant look at her aunt. “She used to be sweet on Lionel before he married you, and I know she’s fearfully jealous of you even now. I don’t like her a bit, and I don’t know what Aunt Inez can see in her. I am sure she will come and upset us all if you invite her here.”
“Hush, Raie!” said Lady Montella reprovingly. “You allow your tongue to run away with you. Miss Lorm is a very bright and nice woman, in spite of your opinion. Whether she shall be invited here or not is for Patricia to decide. What do you say, my daughter? Shall she come?”
“Certainly, if you wish it,” Patricia answered promptly, but without enthusiasm. She was not anxious to play hostess to Zillah Lorm, but she was too certain of her husband’s love to listen to Raie’s warning. It was not in her nature to entertain that kind of fear.
CHAPTER VTHE COMING OF ZILLAH
So Miss Lorm came, and took up her abode at the Government House as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and immediately aroused Raie’s anger by making great friends with the Princess; for Raie looked upon the Princess as her own especial property, and resented the addition of a third to share their walks and drives. She anticipated worse to follow, however, for the Princess, prior to her departure from Palestine, intended to visit Jerusalem, accompanied by Lionel and Patricia, so that she would be left to help Lady Montella entertain the guest. She sincerely hoped that Ferdinand would not come back until it were a thing of the past; she did not desire him to meet Zillah Lorm.
There was no denying that Zillah possessed an attractive personality, as well as a magnificent voice. She seemed to be able to draw people towards her with an almost magnetic power, and there were few who refused to be fascinated by her charms. Nevertheless, she did not improve on acquaintance, for there was a hardness in her nature which soon made itself felt. She had no sympathy with the poor and down-trodden, or with anyone whose sole aim was not success. Her one desire was to advance in theworld, and her friends were chosen in accordance with this end. And this ambition sometimes manifested itself unpleasantly in her words, for she did not seek to disguise the trait.
Strangely enough, Raie was not the only one who regarded her with dislike. Little Julian manifested a distinct animosity from the very first day of her arrival, nor was he to be propitiated by caresses and presents. He began to cry directly she spoke to him, and screamed lustily for her to go away. His parents and nurses tried every means in their power to win him over, but in vain. He would not kiss Miss Lorm, neither would he allow her to touch him; all he could do was to look a picture of misery while she remained in the room.
He was only a baby, and his goodwill of no value at all; but he was Montella’s child, and Zillah felt piqued.
“Let me sing to him,” she suggested, as the boy hid his face on his mother’s shoulder. She was certain of conquering him by the dulcet tones of her voice.
But even the soothing notes of a lullaby were powerless to move the stubborn little heart. Julian fixed his round eyes on the singer for a moment, but soon looked away. Seeing that he was still obdurate, Zillah ceased in disgust; after all, it mattered little whether he condescended to kiss her or not.
“I have never seen baby behave like that before,” Patricia said, when the others had left the nursery. “I felt quite ashamed of him before Miss Lorm. How can you account for it, nurse?”
The nurse was at a loss for a reply, but Anne Whiteside came to the rescue.
“Oh, there’s no accounting for the likes anddislikes of children, my lady,” she replied easily. “I believe they can see further into a person’s character than we grown-ups can; it’s a sort of second sight, I think. Now, my Tom, he’s just the same. He took a dislike to the Arab boy who minds him when I’m up here, and no amount of coaxing would make him alter his mind. So all I could do was to send the boy away and get another; it wasn’t worth while making the lad ill on that account.”
“Certainly not,” was Patricia’s comment. “It is not the least use to try and force affection. How is your grandson, by the way? I have scarcely seen him since we came to Haifa.”
Nothing delighted Anne more than to discuss her boy.
“He’s doing fairly well, thank you, my lady,” she replied, with alacrity. “Of course, he found the heat trying at first, but he’s getting used to it now.”
“And is his brain more active than it was?”
“I’m afraid not, my lady; he’ll never be no better than a poor imbecile. Not that I’m complaining, though; there’s worse things than that.”
“You ought to let him sleep in the Cave of Elijah, Mrs. Whiteside,” advised Raie, suddenly appearing at the door. “Wouldn’t it make a sensation if he were to be cured!”
“Eh, miss!” The poor woman looked bewildered. “Is it a doctor’s treatment you mean?”
“No; the Cave of Elijah.” She smiled good-humouredly, not in the least realising the serious import of her words. “They say that all who are mentally diseased are cured by sleeping there over night. I suppose it’s after the style of Lourdes.”
“Oh! but it isn’t true, surely, miss?” Her form trembled like a leaf. “It can’t be true!”
“I can’t swear to it, but that is what tradition says. I think it is supposed to have to do with the influence of Elijah’s spirit on Mount Carmel. Mustaph, our guide at the hotel, said he actually knew someone who was cured.”
“How came you to hear of it, Raie?” asked Patricia, with surprise. She was sorry the girl had mentioned it to Anne, thereby raising false hopes.
“I heard of it when I was staying with the Princess: the cave is not far from the Mount Carmel Hotel.”
“And does the Princess believe in it?”
“She neither believes nor disbelieves, because it’s a sort of faith-cure. When I asked her, she answered by quoting Shakespeare: ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ But the Carmelites evidently accept it as a fact.”
“It is not well to believe too much in such superstitions,” said Patricia thoughtfully. “I should advise you not to think about it, Anne.”
The nurse looked from the one to the other in a tremor of excitement. “Oh, but, my lady, if it should be true! If it should be true!” she cried, scarcely able to contain herself. “Think what it would mean to me to see my Tom growing in mind and body like other boys! Think what a comfort he would be to me in my old age. Surely if the cave is so near by it would be sinful not to try it. Maybe the Lord has brought me out to the Holy Land for this very purpose, else why should it happen that I should come to this very place?”
“If faith is wanted, you will not be found lacking,” her mistress said, with a sigh, as she handed her pet back to the under-nurse. “But if you are disappointed, Anne, remember that I warned you. Every countryside has its legends and superstitions. At Burstall Abbey we had a magic well.”
“I am sorry I have put the poor creature in such a state of excitement,” Raie said, as they left the nursery. “Surely, though, she would not be so foolhardy as to take her little boy to the cave? I would not spend a night there for all the gold of Ophir.”
“Anne will do anything if she thinks it is of God,” rejoined her friend, as she turned into her own room. “She seems to see the working of Providence in every event.”
Dinner that evening was considerably enlivened by the presence of Zillah Lorm, for coming direct from England, she had much to tell. Owing to her connection with influential Christian people she had evaded the Assimilation Act until a few weeks ago; but her origin having been eventually discovered, she had been given the option of taking the oath or leaving the country. Indeed, it was only by the prompt action on her behalf by a friendly peer that she had escaped the penalty meted out to such defaulters. Instead of viewing her position with anything approaching repentance, however, she seemed to regard it as a good joke. She was genuinely elated at having had the cleverness to defy the authorities for so long a time.
“It was Mrs. Athelstan Moore—the Countess of Chesterwood, I mean—who found me out,” she informed Lionel cheerfully. “You see, she had met me at your house and knew something about me;the others never dreamt that I was a Jewess. Of course, I took care to avoid all those who already knew.”
“I thought you had already taken the oath,” said Lady Montella, from the other side of the table. “Did you not give me to understand that such was the case?”
“Did I? I have forgotten.” Zillah looked up with an air of frankness. “To tell you the truth, I was very near taking it, but when it actually came to it, I couldn’t find it in my heart to give up all connection with things Jewish. Not that I care much forYiddishkeit—I generally try to avoid it as much as I can; but as long as I was born a Jewess, I suppose I’d better die one too.”
“Was that your only reason for refusing to secede?” asked Lionel, with a curious smile. “That you might die a Jewess? Why not that you might live a Jewess too?”
Zillah gave a gesture of insouciance.
“To live is always more difficult than to die,” she returned lightly. “Besides, I could not make aBrocha[10]over the Sabbath candles to save my life. It is not in my nature to conform to that sort of thing.”
10. Blessing.
10. Blessing.
“But living in Israel, you will do as the Israelites do?”
“Certainly, as long as no great effort is expected of me. I should certainly not go out of my way to offend.”
“Your candour is refreshing,” said Lady Montella, scarcely knowing whether to be shocked or to admire, “and, unfortunately, your position is a common oneamongst the Jews of to-day. So long as you do not actually renounce the faith, you, and those who adopt your standpoint, think you are fulfilling your whole duty to it. Why do you cling so ardently to the thought of dying a Jewess? Is it not because you cannot bear the thought of being separated from your own people at the last?”
“I suppose so,” Miss Lorm admitted. “It is just a sentiment, or else a prick of conscience. I am not sure which.”
“But our religion claims more of you than that,” the elder lady returned, with a touch of reproach. “People would not have to talk of the decadence of Judaism were it not for the neglect and lack of enthusiasm shown by many Jews. How I long for a grand revival—a rekindling of Judaism as it was in the days of old! Surely it ought to take place in this sacred land of our fathers. And when so opportune a time as now!”
Her eyes deepened with an intensity of feeling, and she became lost in thought. Zillah diverted the conversation into another channel, and began to speak of English affairs. She wished her ladyship were not quite so ardent a Jewess; she could not understand it at all.
CHAPTER VITHE CAVE OF ELIJAH
Anne Whiteside was sitting in her own room, absorbed in thought, whilst near by, in his little white bed, lay her sleeping boy. Raie’s words had sunk deep into her mind—so deep that she could think of nothing else. Had she been told of such a cave in England she would probably have considered it unworthy her attention, but here in Palestine the conditions were entirely of another kind. She remembered the story of the pool of Bethesda, where the great multitude of impotent folk waited for the moving of the water; and to her it seemed quite as likely for a miracle to happen in a cave as in a pool. Moreover, the very soil of Palestine was sacred, and more associated with divine interposition than any country in the world, so that it seemed to lend itself to the miraculous as a matter of course.
“With God all things are possible,” she said to herself. “The arm of the Lord is not shortened.” The physicians were unable to cure the lad, and had pronounced his case hopeless; but surely no case was beyond the power of the Great Physician? She was determined to have faith.
The boy awoke, and blinking sleepily at the light, glanced at his grandmother, but no ray of intelligence crossed his face. He knew her, of course—he wouldtake his food at the hands of no one else; but he showed no sign of recognition, and gazed vacantly into space. Anne moved the lamp in order to prevent the glare from hurting his eyes, then fetched him a glass of fresh cocoanut milk. He drank it greedily, and asked for more, but the old nurse thought he had had sufficient, and coaxed him to try and sleep.
Sitting by the bed, she sang a crooning little melody, such as might be used to lull a baby in a cradle, whilst her fingers busily plied a pair of woollen socks. There was no sound to break the stillness but that of her own voice, yet she was quite oblivious of the gentle lifting of the latch. A sudden shadow on the opposite wall, however, caused her to look up suddenly, and without any sense of surprise she discovered a swarthy Arab at her side.
“Mustaph!” she exclaimed, putting down her needles in haste. “You have come from the Princess? What does her Highness say?”
For answer he produced a note from the folds of his inner garment and handed it with a bow. The nurse took it with trembling fingers and broke the seal. Then she adjusted her spectacles and turned towards the light. Mustaph complacently squatted on the floor.
“I think your project considerably fraught with risk both to the boy and yourself,” it ran; “but if you are determined to venture, I will not deter you. To-morrow will be a good opportunity on account of the full moon, and my carriage will be at your disposal. Be ready an hour and a half before sunset, when one of my servants shall call. Pleaseinform Mustaph if this arrangement is satisfactory, or if you have changed your mind. Personally, I should advise you to leave well alone rather than be guided by a Mohammedan superstition.
O. von Felsen-Schvoenig.”
O. von Felsen-Schvoenig.”
O. von Felsen-Schvoenig.”
O. von Felsen-Schvoenig.”
To read and digest the note took some little time; but the Arabs are never in a hurry, and Mustaph waited with calm patience. Anne sank on to a chair, with her back to the man and her elbows resting on the pillows of the bed. ‘To be, or not to be?’ that was the question which sent a thrill of agitation through her being. Whether it were better for Tom to remain as he was—a helpless imbecile—or to undergo the chance of being cured. Cured! The very word set all her pulses throbbing, and made the blood course rapidly through her veins. To have his intellect restored, to be clothed and in his right mind, like the demoniac of old, to be a help and a comfort instead of the burden he ever remained! For she knew he was a burden, in spite of the assurances she always gave herself to the contrary. His condition necessitated more attention than she was ever able to give him, even though he was watched by some obliging friend when she was away. Cured! As in a vision she saw him growing up beside her, his form no longer delicate and shrunken, but strong and stalwart with the vigour of youth; his face glowing with intelligence instead of that vacant expression which seemed to cleave her heart in twain. If he were but healthy like other boys, her life would be a very paradise on earth, for it but needed this to complete her happiness. A mist rose before her eyes as she gazed at the poor old-young face, thelarge forehead which betokened not intellect but idiocy, the heavy eyelids closed in sleep.
“Oh, Christ, dear Lord, help me!” she whispered, clasping her hands in an agony of indecision. She knew not what to do for the best.
Mustaph, noticing her agitation, rose from the floor and approached with wonder.
“Malaish!” he exclaimed, using the Arab term of condolence. “What matter?Mafîsh.There is nothing.”
“The cave,” she said, raising her head. “The Cave of Elijah. You have been there. Is it true that people are cured?”
He stared at her interrogatively, scarcely understanding her words.
“Fen—where? The cave? Boy go?Haiwa.Yes, varry good.”
Then he nodded vigorously, meaning to say that he knew all about it now.
“Tell her Highness I have made up my mind to try with Tom,” Anne said, deciding suddenly. “I will be ready at the time she says—before sunset. But I suppose I had better write it.”
And finding a pencil, she scribbled the message on the reverse side of the Princess’s note. She felt as if she had cast the die.
Nodding and smiling, the Arab departed, and she was left to herself again. The boy was still asleep, with a look almost of babyhood on his face. If he suffered in any way by his visit to the cave she was certain she would never forgive herself; but the temptation to make the trial was too great to be passed by.
“You will be cured, Tom!” she exclaimed softly,as she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I know you will; I can feel it in my heart. No more weary hours, no more pain, dearest. Oh, to see you no longer suffering! ’Tis worth the trial of faith!”
She paced the room, scarcely able to contain her deeply-stirred emotions, and without the least inclination for rest. And when she did go to bed, sleep refused to come, so that she tossed the whole night through, and longed for daylight. But she was up again at the usual early hour, and fulfilled her duties with no lack of energy. Fearing to receive discouragement, she did not inform the Montellas of her intention to put the matter to the test that night, and only the Princess, to whom she had rendered some service in Haifa, was in the secret. Punctual to the appointed time the car appeared before her door, with two servants in attendance, and fortunately there were few people about to wonder at its coming. Anne’s heart beat fast as she placed the lad in the most comfortable seat, and took up her position beside him. The cee-spring and thick rubber tires on the wheels of the vehicle minimised the jolting, which would otherwise have rendered the drive more or less unpleasant, and the white awning served to protect the occupants from the glare of the sun. Occasionally a string of soft-treading camels passed them, their sweetly-sounding bells announcing their approach; or the peasant-women in their picturesque blue robes would stand and stare at them, perhaps in the hope of selling some of the milk which they carried in pans on their heads. The road on the mountain side lay between rich and beautiful vineyards, and as they ascended a glorious viewexpanded before their gaze. Northwards sparkled the waters of the bay, across which, at a distance of about twelve miles, lay Akka, once in the coasts of the Gentiles, but now a Jewish town. Eastwards rose the hills of Galilee, whose undulating ranges overlooked Nazareth, Cana, and the Sacred Lake; and far away in the distance towered the snowy cap of Hermon, like the only cloud in a clear sky. Around them was spread the rich flora of the Carmel ridge, with occasional Druze villages nestling on its slopes; and close at hand the happy twittering of the birds fell on the fragrant air. Anne drew a deep breath of enjoyment, feeling that here—so close to the scene of Elijah’s victory over the prophets of Baal—nothing was impossible. The very atmosphere seemed charged with the miraculous, the Oriental colouring bridged over the distance from that time of old. It was the first time she had been any distance from the town, the first time that she was able to realise that this was in truth the land of the Bible; and the fascination of it all crept over her spirit—that peculiar spell of the Holy Land.
The Princess was waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel. It was characteristic of her to treat her inferiors with as much deference as her equals, and since the nurse had obtained the promise of this favour, she would not stint the measure of her goodwill. A substantial repast had been prepared for them in her private sitting-room; and with her own hands she ministered to their wants. Yet if at home in Felsen-Schvoenig her husband had asked for such an attention, she would have replied that she was not a serving-maid. She was indeed a mixture of perversity, but a sweet woman withal.
“Tom does not look so well to-day,” she observed, as she coaxed him to eat. “Do you think the journey has been too much for him, Anne?”
Anne was not sure, but she thought he must have benefited by the lovely drive.
“If your Highness will allow me to feed him, I think he will get on better,” she suggested cheerfully, and held the spoon to his lips as though he had been a child.
The meal over, they re-entered the little carriage, and prepared to start for the wonderful cave. Standing under the stone portico, the Princess wished them farewell.
“I shall think of you to-night,” she said, with a smile of encouragement. “I hope the cure will work.”
“If God will,” was the nurse’s rejoinder. “I thank your Highness for the great help you have given me.”
But the Princess would not receive her gratitude.
“I will send the carriage for you at dawn,” she called out, as the coachman took up the reins; and then again wishing luck to the venture, she disappeared from view.
The cave, which was formed out of the limestone of which the mountain was composed, was reached shortly after leaving the hotel. A chapel had been built there to commemorate the place, but it had been done away with when the Jews came into possession, and now there existed nothing to distinguish it from other caves. Coming into it from the open air, it seemed to exhale an atmosphere of warm humidity, and the walls, when Anne felt them, were quite damp. Mustaph had brought with him a lamp, some warm blankets, and a small folding-chair,but in spite of these commodities, the place scarcely promised to be a comfortable one in which to spend the night. The shadows gathered as they made their preparations, and the nurse shivered, though scarcely with cold. Even Tom, who scarcely ever displayed an emotion of any kind, seemed frightened, and at first refused to lie down in the strange floor-bed allotted to him. At sunset Mustaph took off his shoes, spread his mat, and said his prayers in approved Mohammedan fashion, after which he took up his position on guard at the mouth of the cave. The lighted lamp brought with it a homely ray of comfort, but it was too small to adequately illumine the cavern, and the corners were dark and black. Amidst such eerie surroundings, Anne would not have been surprised at any apparition or supernatural manifestation, and as the time wore on, she worked herself up to an intense pitch of excitement. Tom lay awake for several hours with wide-open, frightened eyes, his hands clutching tightly at the counterpane, whilst in his own way he expressed his disapproval and fear. At last, however, his hands unclosed and his features relaxed, and closing his eyes wearily, he dropped off to sleep.
Anne heaved a trembling sigh as she sank on to her knees at his side. Who could tell what would have happened by the time he awoke again? Crossing her hands on her breast to still the rapid beating of her heart, she sent up a passionate entreaty to Heaven to grant her prayers for the boy. What would she not do to show her gratitude if only he were cured of his disease! How devoted her life would be to the Most High henceforth! She was not the first soul who has presumed to bribe theAlmighty when in distress: it is a common human instinct to think that we can gain a divine benefaction by promising to do something great and magnanimous in return.
The silence was intense, but suddenly it was broken by a weird and melancholy sound. The nurse started in affright, wondering from whence it came, and listened with distended eyes. Moving towards the entrance, she called to Mustaph, who was endeavouring to rouse himself from sleep, whilst the sound continued, just like a cry of woe.
“A jackal,” the Arab replied imperturbably. “Malaish—never mind. I tell himimshi—be off!La!no. He not come here. Ma’am not be afraid. He only howl.”
Anne was thankful to hear the sound of a human voice.
“I wish the night were over,” she said, with a sigh. “Tom is fast asleep. Are you sure we have done everything properly? I am so anxious. I cannot sleep.”
Mustaph suppressed a yawn.
“Allah is good!” he exclaimed wearily. “Ma’am must sleep, or else Elijah not come. To stay awake isharâm—forbidden. I tell jackalimshi. Ma’am sleep.”
So Anne returned to the interior of the cave, and wrapping herself in a blanket, tried to fulfil the command. The howling and whimpering of the jackals continued for some time, but she covered her ears, and did her best to shut out the sound. She was, indeed, very tired, and since it was necessary that she should sleep, she was determined not to keep awake. Gradually she lost consciousness, until the cheerlesscave entirely disappeared, to be replaced by a phantomatic but more happy slumberland. The night wore on, but nothing happened to disturb her dreams, and she slept right on until a strip of light in the east heralded the dawn. Then she awoke with a start to find her two companions still asleep, the Arab in his place at the mouth of the cave. Pulling herself together, she rose and stretched wearily, and then bent over her beloved grandchild. He was lying in the same position, but so still that he might have been a waxen figure instead of a human boy. With an indefinable sense of alarm she knelt down beside him, and scarcely knowing what she was doing, felt his heart and his wrist. Then a low cry of anguish echoed and re-echoed through the silence of the cavern—the cry of a broken-hearted woman.
For the light of her life had been extinguished—the boy was quite dead!
She remained in her kneeling position, totally stunned. It was possible that lying on the floor the damp vapours had poisoned him, but it did not occur to her yet to seek the cause; it mattered not how he died, since there was no hope of his instantaneous resurrection. But while she knelt, her eyes blinded with tears, there appeared before her mind’s eye something which was almost akin to a vision. The cave in which she had slept for so many hours became the rock-hewn sepulchre of Mary and Martha’s brother, and in fancy she heard the sweet but authoritative Voice: “Lazarus, come forth!” Oh, that that same Voice might utter the command over the inanimate figure of her boy! But no, that Voice spake no longer, save in the souls of men. Of a different nature, though no less potent, were the miracles of to-day.
“‘He asked life of Thee, and Thou gavest it him, even length of days for ever and ever’!” she quoted, in a whisper, as her lips touched the ice-cold forehead of the lad. She had prayed that he might be cured, that he might spend no more weary hours, and have no more pain. Ought she not to be happy since God in His own way had cured the child? Certain it was that for him there would be no more suffering and weariness. “‘Even length of days for ever and ever’!” she repeated, as she went to inform the Arab.
She was no longer sorrowful. The boy was cured at last!