Instantly the look of happiness faded from the child's face. She shrunk
aside in an attempt to scramble from the path of the leathern-faced
old Arab; but she was not quick enough. With a brutal kick the
man sent her sprawling upon her face, where she lay quite still,
tearless but trembling. Then, with an oath at her, the man passed
into the tent. The old, black hag shook with appreciative laughter,
disclosing an occasional and lonesome yellow fang.
When she was sure The Sheik had gone, the little girl crawled
to the shady side of the tent, where she lay quite still, hugging
Geeka close to her breast, her little form racked at long intervals
with choking sobs. She dared not cry aloud, since that would have
brought The Sheik upon her again. The anguish in her little heart
was not alone the anguish of physical pain; but that infinitely
more pathetic anguish--of love denied a childish heart that yearns
for love.
Little Meriem could scarce recall any other existence than that
of the stern cruelty of The Sheik and Mabunu. Dimly, in the back
of her childish memory there lurked a blurred recollection of a
gentle mother; but Meriem was not sure but that even this was but
a dream picture induced by her own desire for the caresses she
never received, but which she lavished upon the much loved Geeka.
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