“Accept help from de apostate? Nefer, son off a traitor! I will unite wid Christians, wid agnostics, wid Reformed Chews, wid de Adfersary himself, in de cause off Zion, but not wid you. You hef no part in de congregation off Israel.”
“Come, Chevalier,” said Lady Caerleon, laying her hand on his clenched fist, as he shook it furiously at Mr Judson, “you are over-excited. Rest a little, and have a cup of tea,” she motioned the young people away, “and then we will talk things over quietly, and see what can be done.”
“Have you thought what all this will mean to Uncle Cyril?” asked Philippa of Mansfield, as they left the room together. He nodded gravely.
“I know. He came into my mind first thing. It’s awful.”
“To see all his work undone, and to know that he can’t put it right!” wailed Philippa, breaking down suddenly. “I think his heart will break, or—or——” the more terrible fear remained unuttered.
“Do you know,” said Mansfield diffidently, “I don’t think it will break him altogether. It might have done once, but he has some one else to think of now. He will have his wife to comfort and take care of, and that helps a man, Phil.”
“‘It is very good for strength, To know that some one needs you to be strong,’” reflected Philippa. “Oh, dear!” she cried, with a watery smile, “I’m quoting poetry again, just as Uncle Cyril told me not to.”
It is possible that Philippa’s anxiety might have been somewhat relieved if she could have read a confidential letter from Queen Ernestine to her mother, written some months later:—
“This answer to your loving letter, my dear sister, is for your own eyes alone. It seems to me (I hope I am mistaken, and that I detect a criticism where none was intended) that I can read between the lines something that is not exactly a distrust of my husband, but a fear lest his terrible trials may have rendered him less regardful of me. In no case but yours would I condescend to notice such a suspicion; but I like to think of you, the wife of Cyril’s beloved brother, as a dear sister of my own, and I cannot bear that you should be in any doubt as to my happiness. When my beloved’s trial came upon him, I said to him (I am almost ashamed now to write it) that he must be content, instead of ruling the world, to make one woman happy, and this is what he does. Do you realise what that means? He bends all his powers, his whole mind, to please a woman whose life has been so desolate that for years it seemed the height of bliss, unattainable bliss, to be near him, to belong to him. Do you wonder my joy is so great that I look upon it with trembling? That such a man should devote himself to ensure the happiness of one whose only claim is that she loves him—it is wonderful! How can you say that I have given up everything for him? I have done nothing—nothing. You would do far more for your Carlino; why should you think it strange in me?
“Besides, my sister, I have given up nothing that I care for. Court life has had no attractions for me since I left girlhood behind, at seventeen, and although Michael was quite willing—even desirous—that I should return to Thracia, I can see that it is better not. It is characteristic of him to wish to go his own way, and earn his own experience, and a mother’s anxieties and counsel would quickly become irksome to him. There is nothing to regret there, you see. I was cradled in romanticism (alas! my education and my fate were sadly incongruous), and now at last I am happy. I have the society of the man I love and of a few faithful friends, the affectionate loyalty of these poor Arabs, and freedom from the cares of civilisation and state. The Arabs, indeed, have transferred their allegiance from myself to Cyril, and I rejoice in the change. We are both studying their language, for I am anxious to be able to do something to raise the condition of the women and girls, but he has no need of anything to bring him into close touch with the men. Under his direction they are beginning to build themselves more permanent houses instead of their wretched huts, as well as to repair the ruined walls of the fortress in case of need. He is interested also in improving their system of irrigation, so as to utilise much of the water that is at present wasted, and says that he is a candidate for the honour of making two bunches of dates grow where only one grew before.