h the passing of the storm a slight draught that was like a shudder
moved the scorched leaves of the acacias in the compound, quivered a
little, and ceased. Then came the dawn, revealing mass upon mass of
piled cloud hanging low over the earth. The breaking of the monsoon
was drawing very near. There could be no lifting of the atmosphere, no
relief, until it came.

She leaned her aching head against the window-frame in a maze of
weariness unutterable. Her heart was too heavy for prayer.

Minutes passed. The daylight grew and swiftly overspread all things.
The leaden silence began to be pierced here and there by the barking
of a dog, the crowing of a cock, the scolding of a parrot. Somewhere,
either in the compound or close to it, some one began to whistle--a
soft, tentative whistle, like a young blackbird trying its notes.

Muriel remained motionless, scarcely heeding while it wove itself into
the background of her thoughts. She was in fact hardly aware of it,
till suddenly, with a great thrill of astonishment that shook her
from head to foot, a wild suspicion seized her, and she started up,
listening intently. The fitful notes were resolving into a melody--a
waltz she knew, alluring, enchanting, compelling--the waltz that had
filled in the dreadful silences on that night long ago when she had
fought so desperately hard for her freedom and had prevailed at last.
But stay! Had she prevailed? Had she not rather been a captive in
spite of it all ever since?

On and on went the haunting waltz-refrain, now near, now far, now
summoning, now eluding. She stood gripping the curtain till she
could bear it no longer, and then with a great sob she mustered her
resolution; she stepped out upon the verandah, and passed down between
shrivelled trailing roses to the garden below.

The tune ceased quite suddenly, and she found herself moving through
a silence that could be felt. But she would not turn back then. She
would not let herself be discouraged. She had been frightened so often
when there had been no need for fear.

On she pressed to the end of the path till she stood by the high
fence that bordered the road. She could see no one. The garden lay
absolutely deserted. She paused, hesitating, bewildered.

At the same instant from the other side of the fence, almost as if
rising from the ground at her feet, a careless voice began to hum--a
cracked, tuneless, unmistakable voice, that sent the blood to her
heart with a force