too boisterous not to be obvious; and yet it was so far true that he probably felt the cold less than any of the party, for the old, old fire was burning in his heart, and a curious joy was inextricably mixed with all his misfortunes, so that he would have found it hard to say if this adventure had been the greatest evil or the greatest blessing of his lifetime.  Aboard the boat, Sadie’s youth, her beauty, her intelligence and humour, all made him realise that she could at the best only be expected to charitably endure him.  But now he felt that he was really of some use to her, that every hour she was learning to turn to him as one turns to one’s natural protector; and above all, he had begun to find himself—­to understand that there really was a strong, reliable man behind all the tricks of custom which had built up an artificial nature, which had imposed even upon himself.  A little glow of self-respect began to warm his blood.  He had missed his youth when he was young, and now in his middle age it was coming up like some beautiful belated flower.

“I do believe that you are all the time enjoying it, Mr. Stephens,” said Sadie with some bitterness.

“I would not go so far as to say that,” he answered.  “But I am quite certain that I would not leave you here.”

It was the nearest approach to tenderness which he had ever put into a speech, and the girl looked at him in surprise.

“I think I’ve been a very wicked girl all my life,” she said after a pause.  “Because I have had a good time myself, I never thought of those who were unhappy.  This has struck me serious.  If ever I get back I shall be a better woman—­a more earnest woman—­in the future.”

“And I a better man.  I suppose it is just for that that trouble comes to us.  Look how it has brought out the virtues of all our friends.  Take poor Mr. Stuart, for example.  Should we ever have known what a noble, constant man he was?  And see Belmont and his wife, in front of us there, going fearlessly forward, hand in hand, thinking only of each other.  And Cochrane, who always seemed on board the boat to be a rather stand-offish, narrow sort of man!  Look at his courage, and his unselfish indignation when any one is ill used.  Fardet, too, is as brave as a lion.  I think misfortune has done us all good.”

Sadie sighed.

“Yes, if it would end right here one might say so; but if it goes on and on for a few weeks or months of misery, and then ends in death, I don’t know where we reap the benefit of those improvements of character which it brings.  Suppose you escape, what will you do?”

The lawyer hesitated, but his professional instincts were still strong.

“I will consider whether an action lies, and against whom.  It should be with the organisers of the expedition for taking us to the Abousir Rock—­or else with the Egyptian Government for not protecting their frontiers.  It will be a nice legal question.  And what will you do, Sadie?”