"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. 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.
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