She had come to Hylda, she said, because of Lord Eglington's position,
and she could not believe that the Government would see David's work
undone and David killed by the slave-dealers of Africa.
Hylda's reply had given her no hope that Eglington would keep the promise
he had made that evening long ago when her father had come upon them by
the old mill, and because of which promise she had forgiven Eglington so
much that was hard to forgive. Hylda had spoken with sorrowful decision,
and then this pause had come, in which Faith tried to gain composure and
strength. There was something strangely still in the two women. From
the far past, through Quaker ancestors, there had come to Hylda now this
grey mist of endurance and self-control and austere reserve. Yet behind
it all, beneath it all, a wild heart was beating.
Presently, as they looked into each other's eyes, and Faith dimly
apprehended something of Hylda's distress and its cause, Hylda leaned
over and spasmodically pressed her hand.
"It is so, Faith," she said. "They will do nothing. International
influences are too strong." She paused. "The Under-Secretary for
Foreign Affairs will do nothing; but yet we must hope. Claridge Pasha
has saved himself in the past; and he may do so now, even though
it is all ten times worse. Then, there is another way. Nahoum Pasha can
save him, if he can be saved. And I am going to Egypt--to Nahoum."
Faith's face blanched.
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