The Military Secretary accompanied the Consul-General and the Pasha to their carriages, and so father and daughter were left together. The General, labouring under the most painful of all senses, the sense of having done an unworthy thing, walked for some minutes about the room, and talked excitedly, while Helena sat on the sofa in silence, and, resting her chin on her hand, looked fixedly before her. "Well, well, it’s all over, thank God! It couldn’t be helped, either! It had to be! Better as it is, too, than if it had come later on.... How hot I am! My throat is like fire. Get me a drink of water, girl." "Let me give you your medicine, father. It’s here on the desk," said Helena. "No, no! Water, girl, water! That’s right! There! ... He has gone, I suppose? Has he gone? Yes? Good thing too! Hope I’ll never see him again! I never will—never! ... How my head aches! No wonder either!" "You’re ill, father—let me run for the doctor." "Certainly not. I’m all right. Sit down, girl. Sit down and don’t worry.... You mustn’t mind me. I’m a bit put out—naturally! It’s hard for you, I know, but don’t cry, Helena!" "I’m not crying, father—you see I’m not." "That’s right! That’s right, dear! It’s hard for you, I say, but then it isn’t easy for me either. I liked him. I did, I confess it. I really liked him, and to ... to do that was like cutting off one’s own son. But ... give me another drink of water, Helena ... or perhaps if you think you ought to run ... no, give me the medicine and I’ll be better presently." She poured out a dose and he drank it off. "Now I’ll lie down and close my eyes. I soon get better when I lie down and close my eyes, you know. And don’t fret, dear. Think what an escape you’ve had! Merciful heavens! A traitor! Think if you had married a traitor! A man who had sold himself to the enemies of England! I was proud of you when you showed him that—come what would—you must stand by your country. Splendid! Just what I expected of you, Helena! Splendid!" After a while his excited speech and gusty breathing softened down to silence and to something like sleep, and then Helena sat on a stool beside the sofa and covered her face with her hands. A hot flush mounted to her pale cheeks when she remembered that it had not been for England that she had acted as she had, but first for her father and next for herself. Perhaps she ought to have told Gordon why she could not leave her father. If she had done so he might have acted otherwise. But the real author of the whole trouble had been the Egyptian. How she hated that man! With all the bitterness of her tortured heart she hated him! As for Gordon, traitor or no traitor, he had been above them all! Far, far above everybody! Even the Consul-General, now she came to think of it, had been a little man compared with his son.