At the next moment he had forgotten all about that, and under the caressing smile which broke from her face and fascinated him, he was feeling as if for the first time in his life he was alone with a young and beautiful woman. They talked a long time, and he was startled by an unexpected depth in her voice, while his own voice seemed to him to have suddenly disappeared. "You like the Egyptians—yes?" she asked. "I love them," said Gordon. "And coming back here is like coming home. In fact, it _is_ coming home. I’ve never been at home in England, and I love the desert, I love the Nile, I love everything and everybody." She laughed—a fresh, ringing laugh that was one of her great charms—and told him about herself and her female friends; the Khediviah, who was so sweet, and the Princess Nazimah, who was so amusing, and finally about the Sheikh who for two years had been teaching her Arabic. "I should have known you by your resemblance to your mother," she said, "but you are like your father, too; and then I saw you yesterday—passing the barracks, you remember." "So you really did ... I thought our eyes——" His ridiculous voice was getting out of all control, so he cleared his throat and got up to go, but the half smile that parted her lips and brightened her beautiful eyes seemed to say as plainly as words could speak, "Why leave so soon?" He lingered as long as he dared, and when he took up his cap and riding-whip she threw the same chiffon veil over her head and walked with him through the garden to the gate. There they parted, and when, a little ashamed of himself, he held her soft white hand somewhat too long and pressed it slightly, he thought an answering pressure came back from her. In three weeks they were engaged. The General trembled when he heard what had happened, protested he was losing the only one he had in the world, asked what was to become of him when Helena had to go away with her husband, as a soldier’s wife should, but finally concluded to go on half-pay and follow her, and then said to Gordon, "Speak to your father. If he is satisfied, so am I." The Consul-General listened passively, standing with his back to the fireplace, and after a moment of silence he said— "I’ve never believed in a man marrying for rank or wealth. If he has any real stuff in him he can do better than that. I didn’t do it myself and I don’t expect my son to do it. As for the girl, if she can do as well for her husband as she has done for her father, she’ll be worth more to you than any title or any fortune. But see what your mother says. I’m busy. Good-day!" His mother said very little; she cried all the time he was telling her, but at last she told him there was not anybody else in the world she would give him up to except Helena, because Helena was gold—pure, pure gold. Gordon was writing to Helena now:—