before the soft step of her old friend sounded near her: he was surprised and startled, but he did not show it.
"There is still hope," he hastened to say, ere she could speak. "Within the last hour he is slightly better; they give him quinine constantly. If the chills and shivering do not return, it is just possible that he may live. But———"
His voice faltered in its serenity, and he turned his head away.
"It is not likely?"
Her own voice had scarcely any sound of its natural tone left in it, yet long habit was so strong with her that she spoke calmly.
"It is not likely. This deadly marsh-poison is short and fierce. After the fatigue and fasting in Sicily it has taken fearful hold on him. But in an hour or two they will know—one way or the other."
"I will stay here. Come and tell me—often. And if—if the worst come—let me see him. Leave me now."
He looked at her, hesitated, then left her as she asked. He guessed all that passed in her
