The Messengers

R >> Richard Harding Davis >> The Messengers


"Of course," he stammered--"of course I understood. That was why I came.
I just couldn't stand it any longer."

Breathing heavily at the thought of the blunder he had so narrowly
avoided, Ainsley turned his head toward the great red disk that was
disappearing into the sands of the desert. He was so long silent that
the girl lifted her eyes, and found that already he had forgotten
her presence and, transfixed, was staring at the sky. On his face
was bewilderment and wonder and a touch of awe. The girl followed the
direction of his eyes, and in the swiftly gathering darkness saw coming
slowly toward them, and descending as they came, six great white birds.

They moved with the last effort of complete exhaustion. In the drooping
head and dragging wings of each was written utter weariness, abject
fatigue. For a moment they hovered over the dahabiyeh and above the
two young lovers, and then, like tired travellers who had reached their
journey's end, they spread their wings and sank to the muddy waters of
the Nile and into the enveloping night.

"Some day," said Ainsley, "I have a confession to make to you."