to me with anything but the most observant politeness. The
Arabs, taught, I suppose, by other travellers whom they had
attended, were very eager to bring me natural curiosities;
birds and animals and shells and plants. I had no lack of
business and pleasure all that day. I wanted only some one to
talk to me who could tell me things I wanted to know.

The day had come to an end, almost; the shadow of Quarantania
had fallen upon us; and I sat on a rock by the spring,
watching the colours of the sunset still bright on the trees
in the plain, on the water of the sea, and on the range of the
Moab hills. From all these my thoughts had at last wandered
away, and were busy at the other end of the world; sad, with a
great sense that Mr. Thorold was away from me; heavy, with a
moment's contrast of pleasures present and pleasures past. My
musings were suddenly broken by seeing that some one was close
by my side, and a single glance said, a stranger. I was
startled and rose up, but the stranger stood still and seemed
to wish to speak to me. Yet he did not speak. I saw the air of
a gentleman, the dress of a European in Syria, the outlines of
a personable man; one glance at his face showed me a bronzed
complexion, warm-coloured auburn hair, and a frank and very
bright eye. I looked away, and then irresistibly was driven to
look back again. He smiled. I was in confusion.

"Don't you know?" he said.

"Not -?"

"Yes!"