deformity, even by the surgeon who saved one's life. It was not a very
lofty attitude of mind, but it was human--and feminine.

These moods had been always dissipated, however, when she recalled,
as she did so often, David as he stood before Nahoum Pasha, his soul
fighting in him to make of his enemy--of the man whose brother he had
killed--a fellow-worker in the path of altruism he had mapped out for
himself. David's name had been continually mentioned in telegraphic
reports and journalistic correspondence from Egypt; and from this source
she had learned that Nahoum Pasha was again high in the service of Prince
Kaid. When the news of David's southern expedition to the revolting
slave-dealing tribes began to appear, she was deeply roused. Her
agitation was the more intense because she never permitted herself to
talk of him to others, even when his name was discussed at dinner-tables,
accompanied by strange legends of his origin and stranger romances
regarding his call to power by Kaid.

She had surrounded him with romance; he seemed more a hero of history
than of her own real and living world, a being apart. Even when there
came rumblings of disaster, dark dangers to be conquered by the Quaker
crusader, it all was still as of another life. True it was, that when
his safe return to Cairo was announced she had cried with joy and relief;
but there was nothing emotional or passionate in her feeling; it was the
love of the lower for the higher, the hero-worship of an idealist in
passionate gratitude.

And, amid it all, her mind scarcely realised that they would surely meet
again. At the end of the second year the thought had receded into an
almost indefinite past. She was beginning to feel that she had lived
two lives, and that this life had no direct or vital bearing upon her