She needed
no light in the familiar way to her cell.
Beatrice searched among her numerous belongings and at last brought out
a writing-case. Then she sat down to her table by the light of the lamp
that had illuminated so many strange sights that night.
She wrote the name of the convent clearly upon the paper, and then wrote
a plain message in the fewest possible words. Something of her strong,
devoted nature showed itself in her handwriting.
"Beatrice Varanger begs that Keyork Arabian will meet her in the parlour
of the convent as soon after receiving this as possible. The matter is
very important."
She had reasons of her own for believing that Keyork had not forgotten
her in the five years or more since they had been in Egypt together.
Apart from the fact that his memory had always been surprisingly good,
he had at that time professed the most unbounded admiration for her, and
she remembered with a smile his quaint devotion, his fantastic courtesy,
and his gnome-like attempts at grace.
She folded the note, to wait for the address which she could not
ascertain until the morning. She could do nothing more. It was nearly
two o'clock and there was evidently nothing to be done but to sleep.
As she laid her head upon the pillow a few minutes later she was
amazed at her own calm. Strong natures, in great tests, often surprise
themselves far more than they surprise others.
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