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Updated: June 5, 2025
Do a great thing now; help it to be done for your own honour, for England's honour for a good man's sake, for your country's sake." There came a knock at the door. An instant afterwards a secretary entered. "A message from the Prime Minister, sir." He handed over a paper. "Will you excuse me?" he asked Hylda suavely, in his eyes the enigmatical look that had chilled her so often before.
No one would drop a knife and fork at the breakfast-table when my obit was read out well, yes, there's one, cute as she can be, but she's lost two husbands already, and you can't be hurt so bad twice in the same place. But the Saadat, back him, Hylda I'll call you that at this distance. Make Nahoum move.
She followed his eyes. Two score of dahabiehs lay along the banks of the Nile, and on the shore were encampments of soldiers, while flags were flying everywhere. Egypt had followed the lead of the Effendina. Claridge Pasha's star was in its zenith. As Nahoum's boat was rowed away, Hylda came on deck again, and the Duchess hastened to her. Hylda caught the look in her face. "What has happened?
He loves you as much as I do. We know there isn't much to be got out of life; but we always hoped you would get more than anybody else." Hylda shrank, then raised her head, and looked at the Duchess with an infinite pathos. "Oh, is it always so in life? Is no one true? Is every one betrayed sometime? I would die yes, a thousand times yes, I would rather die than bear this.
David was standing by the brazier, his hand held unconsciously over the coals, his eyes turned towards them. The reddish flame from the fire lit up his face under the broad-brimmed hat. His head, slightly bowed, was thrust forward to the dusk. Hylda looked at him steadily for a moment. Their eyes met, though hers were in the shade. Again Lacey spoke. "Don't be anxious. I'll see her safe back.
If Hylda had not come at that crucial instant, the chairmaker's but on the hill would be empty. Why had not Soolsby told the world the truth since? Was the man waiting to see what course he himself would take? Had the old chair-maker perhaps written the truth to the Egyptian to his brother David. His brother! The thought irritated every nerve in him.
So absorbed was he with self and the failure of his speech, that, for a moment, he forgot the subject of it, and what that subject meant to them both. "What do you think of my speech, Hylda?" he asked, as he threw himself into a chair. "I see you have been reading it. Is it a full report?" She handed the paper over. "Quite full," she answered evenly. He glanced down the columns.
As Hylda read, she passed through phases of feeling begotten of new understanding which shook her composure. She had seen David and all that David was doing; Egypt, and all that was threatening the land through the eyes of another who told the whole truth except about his own cowardice, which was untrue. She felt the issues at stake.
As Hylda, in the Duchess of Snowdon's box, listened with a face which showed nothing of what she felt, and looking straight at the stage before her, the words of a poem she had learned but yesterday came to her mind, and wove themselves into the music thrilling from the voice in the stage prison: "And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence For the fulness of the days?
He drew from his pocket a little locket which Faith had given him years ago, and opened it before her. Hylda looked long. "She was exquisite," she said, "exquisite." "My father I never knew either. He was a captain of a merchant ship. He married her secretly while she was staying with an aunt at Portsmouth. He sailed away, my mother told my grandfather all, and he brought her home here.
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