The Hartley Brothers by Charlotte Maria Tucker

THE same glimmer of dawn which had aroused the Bedouins from their bivouac while stars still shone in the dark blue sky, awoke Robin, as he lay stretched on his bed of sand, near the lifeless form of his friend. The sun would rise ere long, the fierce, cruel sun, the last that he was ever likely to see; but the young Knight of St. John had a duty to perform before he should perish of thirst. He must hollow out a grave after death for her whom in life he had been bound to protect. After a brief prayer, the lad-with no implement but his hands-set to his toilsome but hallowed task. Though his tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth with thirst, for the mashale was utterly dry, Robin scraped and scraped, with patient toil, for it was a labour of love.

"God give me strength to finish my work! " faintly murmured young Hartley. "And then I shall die content."

But the strength was failing before the grave was half completed; Robin was almost fainting, and scarcely conscious of anything save that he was to dig and die, when he was startled by a long shadow falling over the uncompleted grave, a shadow between him and the sun, which was rising behind his back, for young Hartley's face was turned to the west.

Robin raised his head, and saw with surprise that he was not alone; at a little distance was what might almost be called a caravan, consisting both of laden camels and mounted horsemen, well-dressed, and carrying spears. Close beside Robin was one whose tread had been unheard on the sand. The Persian Amir, for such was the stranger, had dismounted from his Arab steed; and, throwing the bridle to a gaily attired attendant, had approached on foot to see who, in that solitary desert, could be engaged in digging a grave.

Robin Hartley could never forget the impression made on his mind by the tall dignified Oriental who had so unexpectedly made his appearance in so very desolate a spot. Anywhere, and under any circumstances, Amir Ali was a man to attract notice. He was almost as fair as a European, with a high nose, rather hooked, and long lustrous dark eyes, fine, but with something gloomy and unpleasing in their expression. The well-marked but delicately pencilled eyebrows were a little drawn together as if in a slight, habitual frown; and the thin lips looked as if they could utter cynical things.

A high cap added to the Persian's appearance of lofty stature. His dress was rich, but of less gaudy colours than Persians usually affect, and a silver-hilted sword, a sign of rank, hung by the Amir's side. To Robin's surprise, he was addressed in his own tongue, which the stranger spoke with tolerable correctness, though slowly and with Oriental accent.

"You are an Englishman," said the Amir; "how came you hither? " The voice of Ali was low and rich.

Robin rose to his feet to reply. "I and my party were seized by Bedouins yesterday," he said. "She," glancing at the body, "fell ill, so was left behind."

"And you?"

"Of course I stayed to help her."

"A mother has claims," said Ali in a low tone of voice; "no doubt the lady is your mother?"

Robin shook his head in reply.

"Then a near relation?"

"No; a few weeks ago I did not know that there was such a being in the world."

"What, then, was the tie which made you willing to throw away life for her sake?"

"Christian love," replied Robin faintly. "Oh, sir, if you have any mercy, give me a draught of water, and bid your people finish this grave."

"Hassan, give orders at once," said the Amir, turning towards a Persian, lower in stature than himself, but almost as handsomely dressed. "Bid the slaves bring sherbet, fruit, and other refreshment, this gentleman has evidently not wetted his lips for many hours."

Robin did not understand the language in which these directions were given, but he soon benefited by their effect. He seemed to draw in new life with the cool, copious, delicious draught, proffered to him in a silver goblet. While he partook of food, some of the Amir's slaves with ease completed what had been to the weary youth an almost hopeless task.

Robin, after reverentially raising to his lips the cold hand of the corpse, and then laying a white handkerchief over the lady's sweet face, was able, unaided by Mahomedan hands, to place Mrs. Evendale's slight form in its shallow grave. The youth was loath to leave the spot, now to him sacred, without even a prayer or a text from Holy Writ. Robin therefore repeated in English a few verses from that glorious chapter which tells the Christian of victory over death, and the hope of a bright resurrection. Clasping his hands, the English lad thanked God that his dear friend's soul had been called to bliss, and that the precious seed now sown in weakness would rise to eternal life. Then Robin, rising from his knees, left others to fill up the grave, and slowly turned away.

"You are not like other European Christians,-I have seen many," said Ali in the English tongue. "They are a selfish race; they speak of a religion of love, but you are the first one whom I have ever met with who would risk starvation for the sake of any one merely for being of a kindred faith."