Something of the stark truth swept into her
brain. She herself had suffered--her own life had been maimed, it had
had its secret bitterness. Her love for her sister's son was that of a
mother, sister, friend combined, and he was all she had in life. That he
lived, that she might cherish the thought of him living, was the one
thing she had; and David must be saved, if that might be; but this girl
--was she not a girl, ten years younger than herself?--to go to Egypt
to do--what? She herself lived out of the world, but she knew the world!
To go to Egypt, and--"Thee will not go to Egypt. What can thee do?" she
pleaded, something very like a sob in her voice. "Thee is but a woman,
and David would not be saved at such a price, and I would not have him
saved so. Thee will not go. Say thee will not. He is all God has left
to me in life; but thee to go--ah, no! It is a bitter world--and what
could thee do?"
Hylda looked at her reflectively. Should she tell Faith all, and take
her to Egypt? No, she could not take her without telling her all, and
that was impossible now. There might come a time when this wise and
tender soul might be taken into the innermost chambers, when all the
truth might be known; but the secret of David's parentage was Eglington's
concern most of all, and she would not speak now; and what was between
Nahoum and David was David's concern; and she had kept his secret all
these years. No, Faith might not know now, and might not come with her.
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