CHAPTER XIII.
THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX Moonlight in the desert.
Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the piazza of the hotel, that she might lose as little as possible of the mystic loveliness of the night.

The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear white light; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more mystery.
Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight presently.

Meanwhile she lay back in a low wicker chair, comfortably upholstered, sipping her coffee, and giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which, in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion.
Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came to her this evening, perhaps brought about by the associations of moonlight.
"The moon shines bright:--in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise--" Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart of a vivid reminder to the senses.

Jane now passed beneath the spell.
To begin with, Garth's voice seemed singing everywhere: "Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight." Then from out the deep blue and silvery light, Garth's dear adoring eyes seemed watching her.

Jane closed her own, to see them better.
To-night she did not feel like shrinking from them, they were so full of love.
No shade of critical regard was in them.