If she turned back she would return to her position of honoured guest in the man’s house, a barren, unsatisfying position for one in whom youth cried for love and mastery.

If only Hahmed would make a sign, a movement; if only he would say one word.  But he stood motionless just behind her, waiting himself, with the oriental’s implicit belief for some deciding sign from Fate.

There was no sound, no sign of life as they stood waiting, and then the night breeze, gently lifting a corner of the Arab’s full white cloak, wrapped it like some great wing about the girl.

A thrill swept her from head to foot as she pressed her hands above her heart, and then with eyes wide open and alight with love stepped across the threshold into the shadows, unknowingly turning the corner of that block of granite which hides the opening, leaving one in complete and utter darkness.

She flung out her hands and felt nothing, turned swiftly and flung them out again, vainly searching for the Arab’s cloak, and finding nothing let them fall to her side.

“My God!” she whispered, and moved a step forward, stopped and listened and moved back.  “Hahmed!  Hahmed!”

She called aloud in fear, she who had never known what it was to be afraid, and she gave a little sob of pure relief when the Arab answered from the distance of a few feet.

“Wherefore are you afraid, O! woman?  Behold I am near you, watching you, for my eyes are trained for the night as well as for the day, even though your eyes, which are as the turquoise set in a crown of glory, may not pierce the darkness, being unaccustomed to the violent contrasts and colourings of the East.”

Then fell a silence.

And then the perfume of the night, and the scent of the sand and the spirit of the dead women who had lived and loved even in that temple chamber, assailed the nostrils of the girl, entering in unto her and causing a wave of longing and unutterable love to rise and flood her whole being, so that she smiled sweetly to herself and held out her arms, and trembled not at the thought of the moment awaiting her.

“Hahmed!  Hahmed!” she called softly from love, and hearing no sound called again and yet more softly.  “Come to me, Hahmed! come to me—­because—­I love you!”

And her master held her in one arm whilst he gently removed the veil from before her face, which she turned and laid against his heart as he poured forth his soul in an ecstasy of love.

“Behold!” he cried, as he removed the outer cloak from about her.  “Behold is my beloved like unto a citadel which has fallen before my might, and the gates thereof are unbarred before the conqueror!

“Behold,” and Jill’s head veil fell to her feet, “is the citadel fair to look upon, from the glistening of the golden cupolas to the feet awash in the River of Love.

“Surrounded by the ivory wall of innocence is she, and unto her lord is the glory of measuring the circumference thereof.