“You surely do not mean that you—that the Government will not help him? He is doing the work of Europe, of civilisation, of Christianity there. He is sacrificing himself for the world. Do you not see it? Oh, but you do! You would realise his work if you knew Egypt as I have seen it.”
“Expediency must govern the policy of nations,” he answered critically.
“But, if through your expediency he is killed like a rat in a trap, and his work goes to pieces—all undone! Is there no right in the matter?”
“In affairs of state other circumstances than absolute ‘right’ enter. Here and there the individual is sacrificed who otherwise would be saved—if it were expedient.”
“Oh, Eglington! He is of your own county, of your own village, is your neighbour, a man of whom all England should be proud. You can intervene if you will be just, and say you will. I know that intervention has been discussed in the Cabinet.”
“You say he is of my county. So are many people, and yet they are not county people. A neighbour he was, but more in a Scriptural than social sense.” He was hurting her purposely.
She made a protesting motion of her hand. “No, no, no, do not be so small. This is a great matter. 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. She felt that her appeal had been useless. She prepared to leave the room. He took her hand, kissed it gallantly, and showed her out. It was his way—too civil to be real.
Blindly she made her way to her room. Inside, she suddenly swayed and sank fainting to the ground, as Kate Heaver ran forward to her. Kate saw the letter in the clinched hand. Loosening it, she read two or three sentences with a gasp. They contained Tom Lacey’s appeal for David. She lifted Hylda’s head to her shoulder with endearing words, and chafed the cold hands, murmuring to herself the while.