When Gordon had regained his composure Ishmael asked him if he would read part of the letter again, but knowing what part it would be—the part about the prophet—he tried to excuse himself, saying he was not fit to read any more.
"Then the Rani will read," said Ishmael, and far as Helena would have fled from the tragic ordeal she could not escape from it. So in her soft and mellow voice she read on without faltering until she came to her own name, and then she stopped and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
"Go on," said Ishmael; "don't be afraid of what follows."
And when Helena came to "false prophet," he turned to Gordon and said—
"Your dear mother didn't know how much I love you. But she knows now," he added, "for the dead know all."
There was no further interruption until Helena had finished, and then Ishmael said—
"She didn't know, either, what work the Merciful had waiting for you in Khartoum. Perhaps you did not know yourself. Something called you to come here. Something drew you on. Which of us has not felt like that? But God guides our hearts—the Merciful makes no mistakes."
Nobody spoke, but Gordon's eyes began to shine with a light which Helena, who was looking at him, had never seen in them before.
"All the same," continued Ishmael, "you hear what your mother says, and it is not for me to keep you against your will. If you wish to go back now none shall reproach you. Speak, Omar; do you wish to leave me?"
There was a moment of tense silence, in which Gordon hesitated and Helena waited breathlessly for his reply. Then with a great effort Gordon answered—