"Then if he is not dead," she said, searching for something to say,
"why weepest thou?"
"Alas! seest thou not, Masanath? He hath not returned to me; his
father knows his story, and if he be not dead how shall I explain his
absence save that he hath forgotten or repented?"
"Not so!" Masanath declared. "He is the soul of honor, and there is a
mystery in this that the gods may explain in time. Comfort thee,
Rachel, for there stirreth a hope in me." Then with the utmost tact
she told the story of the finding of Kenkenes' boat and the theory
accepted in Memphis.
"I can offer thee hope," she concluded, "but I can not even guess what
should keep him so long. Of this be assured, however, he did not
desert thee, Rachel."
Enigmatical as it was, the incident was comforting to Rachel.
So the Nile rose and subsided, the winter came and went, and now it was
near the middle of March, Masanath forgot Kenkenes and remembered her
own sorrow now that its consummation was surely approaching. During
the hours that darkened gradually Rachel was to her an ever-responsive
comforter. Even in the dead of night, if the weight of her care
burdened her dreams so that she stirred or murmured, she was instantly
soothed till she slept again.
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