dy: and in that first shuddering sense of
loneliness, time was not.

A familiar choking sensation recalled him to outward things. The
punkah coolie had fallen asleep; and in a fever of irritation he sprang
to his feet. Then the thought pierced him: "What on earth does it
matter . . now?"

But the trivial prick of discomfort had, in some inexplicable fashion,
readjusted the balance of things; reawakened the conviction that had so
strangely upheld him throughout the day; and with it the spirit of 'no
surrender,' which was the very essence of the man. All the tales he
had heard of cholera patients literally dragged from the brink of the
grave by devoted nursing crowded in upon him, like reinforcements
backing up a forlorn hope, and once again he bent over his wife,
caressing the crisp upward sweep of her hair.

"Honor, you _shall_ live. By God, you shall!" he whispered low in her
ear, as though her spirit could hear and take comfort from the
assurance.

A downward jerk of the punkah rope set the great frill flapping with
ostentatious vigour; and he himself set to work again no less
vigorously; fighting death hand to hand with every weapon at command.
He clung to his renewed hope with a desperation that was terrible;
realising more acutely than before that to let go of her was to fall
into nameless spaces void of companionship and love. Once or twice the
flicker of the punkah frill created an illusion of movement in the
face, and his heart leapt into his throat, only to sink to the depths
again when he discovered his mistake. But nothing now could turn him
from his purpose; or quench that indomitable determination to succeed
which is one of the strongest levers of the world.

And at long-last, when persistence had begun to seem mere folly, came
the first faint shadow of change. Slowly, very slowly, her face
appeared to be losing the bluish tinge of cholera. Fearful lest
imagination should be cheating him, he fetched the lamp, and held it
over her. Unquestionably the colour had improved.

The loose chimney rattled as he set down the lamp; and he spilled half
the brandy he tried to pour into a spoon. Then, steadying himself by a
supreme effort, he managed to pour a little of it between her lips,
watching with suspended breath for the least sign of moisture at the
corners. A drop or two trickled uselessly out, but the muscles of her
throat stirred slightly, and the rest was retained.

Then for a moment De