Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1902-10-22

gone away.
When it was night again the woman
reused me to put between my lips
sweet strong cordial that gave me
strength. With her arm still under me
staggered to my feet, and thus we set
out, guided by a star that hung high
in the west.
All night we journeyed. 1 was like
one walking in sleep, or like child
Weakened unwillingly, crying with
WEAKNESS and anger that she would
not let me lie down on the sand. My
shroud was around me still, and it
trailed on the sand, but needed not.
Far away now was the trail of the car
avian, like scar on the bosom of the
desert, and our own track a pitiful,
wavering line that bent to the west.
/ cursed the woman that she would
not let me alone, but my weak rebel
lion was as nothing to her will, so 1
stumbled on and the daughter of the
Wahhabis held me up till it was dawn.
Then we rested.
All day she sat by me, while the air
quivered with heat and the light daz-
zled the eye. All day she sat between
me and the sun, holding her garment
as an awning over my face, and moist
ening my lips with water from the zem-
zlmlyah. Dates, too. she compelled
me to eat; yet herself tasted neither
date nor so much as a drop of water,
lest there should not be enough
saw her face: Lustrous eyes, black
as midnight, and mouth that the Ii
sam would not hide. Beneath the linen
/ could see the tenderness of its smile.
1 almost forgot that she was the
daughter of my enemies. Slowly my
strength returned, as if it flowed
from her life into mine, till at the
evening hour of prayer l was able to
kneel unaided and repeat the words
that the prophet teaches.
She had the courage and strength
that her people never lack. She was
bred in the mountains, used to climb
ing the sleeps with the water jar on
her head, or herding her fathers
tiocks, yet she was comely and pleas
ant TO look upon, one in a thousand for
grace.
Still / spoke not to her, for was she
not of the Wahabis? 1t would be sin
1 I.
Again night, and we journeyed west.
Still 1 stumbled, and still the woman
held me up. Yet her step, it seemed,
was less strong, and saw in the moon
light that her face had grown drawn
and weary.
In the dawn l heard her whisper:
Courage, 1 smell the lime trees"
Then l felt that she tottered, and
together we sank upon the sand; yet
even then she tried to lift my head,
and poured between my lips the last
drop of water. l crawled on, alone,
and reached the Wady Laymum, and
heard the tinIle of the water and smelt
the fragrance of the lines
But in the green Wady there was no
soul but me. The woman lay out there
in the desert, and the Wady was lone
lier than the desert, Icursed the fever
and the greed of thirst that had MADE
me push on unmindful that l was alone.
Like the rush of the wind my man
hood came back TO me. Gathering my
hands full of lines, 1 went back to
where she lay. Her lips could utter no
word, but her eyes-Allahl- did ever
eyes show such wonder of Joy?
l laid her in the shade of the lines.
by the pool. She drank of the water,
and the cool sour of the fruit revived
her.
There We're roses blooming by the
water, and wild melon that climbed
about the trunk of a pomegranate
made screen like curtain where the
woman rested. Her name was that of
the prophets daughter, our lady Fat
inah.
strayed down by the stream, seeing
the birds flee from me, and stopping to
gather the dates that had fallen in the
grove. The cry of the bittern sounded
so sorrowful that it made my heart
ache, and l crept back to where Fati-
nah lay.
Her face lit gloriously when spoke
to her.
why did you give your strength for
mine? Why did you, of all the cara
van, take pity to help me?'' 1 asked.
Five years ago" she answered.
smiling, yet speaking slowly and
barely above a whisper, five years ago
| came with my father, child, to Alex
andria. Five years ago-and you were
there, though you remember me not
How cOuldyou remember the Wahhabi
girl you saved from the stick of the
camel driver? You forgot in an hour,
but l never forgot. Till saw your face
in the caravan four days agoI had not
hoped ever to see it again, yet never
for n moment had 1 forgotten it."
she stopped, too weak for further
speech, but her eyes frightened with a
smile that was the dawn that breaks
over the holy city. She did not try
even to veil her secret.
o, wonderful heart of woman. 'Whc
that lives can fathom its depths of
tenderness, or measure its heights OF
sacrifice? Who can bound it, or de-
scribe it, or explain it? It's love is born
of word, a movement of kindness,
glamour; and is immortal as the stars
and mightier than DEATH
When night came again and the moon
struggled to pierce the screen of the
melon vine that yelled Fatimah's rest
ing place, her voice was silent and her
eyes were closed. All night long l Law
upon my face on the ground, mourning
for the daughter of my enemies. the