fortune and live for ever. Kismet!
I will not wait to see Lady Eglington. I beg to offer to her my
congratulations on the triumph of her countryman."

His words had no ulterior note; but there was a shadow in his eyes which
in one not an Oriental would have seemed sympathy.

"Pasha, Pasha!" the Duchess called after him, as he turned to leave;
"tell me, is there any news from England--from the Government?"

"From Lord Eglington? No," Nahoum answered meaningly. "I wrote to him.
Did the English Government desire to send a message to Claridge Pasha,
if the relief was accomplished? That is what I asked. But there is no
word. Malaish, Egypt will welcome him!"

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? Is there news? Who has been here?" she asked.

The Duchess took her hands. "Nahoum has gone to tell Prince Kaid. He
came to you with the good news first," she said with a flutter.

She felt Hylda's hands turn cold. A kind of mist filled the dark eyes,
and the slim, beautiful figure swayed slightly. An instant only, and
then the lips smiled, and Hylda said in a quavering voice: "They will be
so glad in England."

"Yes, yes, my darling, that is what Nahoum said." She gave Nahoum's
message to her. "Now they'll make him a peer, I suppose, after having
deserted him. So English!"

She did not understand why Hylda's hands trembled so, why so strange a
look came into her face, but, in an instant, the rare and appealing eyes
shone again with a light of agitated joy, and suddenly Hylda leaned over
and kissed her cheek.

"Smell the coffee," she said with assumed gaiety. "Doesn't
fair-and-sixty want her breakfast? Sunrise is a splendid tonic." She
laughed feverishly.

"My darling, I hadn't seen the sun rise in thirty years, not since the
night I first met Windlehurst at a Foreign Office ball."

"You have always been great friends?" Hylda stole a look at her.

"That's the queer part of it; I was so stupid, and he so clever. But
Windlehurst has a way of letting himself down to your level. He always
called me Betty after my boy died, just as if I was his equal. La, la,
but I was