vy knobkerrie for a throw. He could not, at
that short distance, miss his mark--and that mark, Beryl. And he was
behind her, and--she did not see him. It was all done in a second. I
drove the spurs home, standing up in the stirrups to catch or ward off
the murderous club as, with a whizz, it left his hand. I felt a sharp,
fiery dig in the side, in my ears a jarring, roaring crash. My sight
was scorched as with the blaze of a million fires, and then--blankness--
oblivion!

CHAPTER THIRTY.

"AT LAST!"

"Hush. Don't talk yet. It's too soon."

A cool hand was laid upon my forehead, while another smoothed the
pillows. Bending over me was the face that had been with me in the life
for months--in imagination through all the unnameable horrors of my
delirium. The large eyes were infinitely tender now, the serene face
soft and pitiful.

"It was only my delirium then? It was not true, not real?"

But as I gasped out the question, for I was very weak, my glance lighted
on the black heaviness of Beryl's attire. Then I knew that it was true.

"Don't talk any more or you will never get well. And you have got to
get well."

"And then you will leave me. I don't want to get well."

"I haven't left you all these weeks, Kenrick, so am not likely to begin
now," she answered. "But if you don't obey orders I will. So be
quiet."

This was irrefutable; besides, there was that in the sight of her, in
her words, in her tones, which shed over me a kind of drowsy peace. I
lay still, content to watch her as she sat by my bed doing some
needlework, not forgetting every now and then, with watchful care, to
brush away the flies that threatened to disturb me. Strange to say, I
seemed to feel no curiosity as to the extent of my injuries, or as to
what had happened, or even where I was. Her presence was
all-sufficient, and soon I dropped off to sleep again.

I pass over the days of convalescence, the recollection of which is
somewhat confused. Beryl was seldom absent from my bedside, and I
retain a sort of consciousness of others stealing in to look at me. But
on such occasions I feigned sleep. I didn't want to see anybody else--
anybody but her.

One morning I opened my eyes, feeling strangely well. The object of my
unvarying first glance was not there. Her accustomed seat was occupied
by Brian.

"Feel better, old chap?" he said, coming over to me. "That's right.
Pentridge said you'd take a sudden turn."