etically grateful. His high spirit had sunk very low in
those days. No one that he could remember had ever done anything to ease
his pain before.

"It's been--so infernal," he whispered presently. "You know--I was
shot--through the heart."

Tudor's face was very grave. "Yes, you're pretty bad," he said. "But
you've pulled through so far. It's in your favour, that. And look here,
you must lie flat on your back always. Do you understand? It's about your
only chance."

"Of living?" whispered Piers. "But I don't want to live. I want to die."

"Don't be a fool!" said Tudor.

"I'm not a fool. I hate life!" A tremor of passion ran through the words.

Tudor laid a hand upon him. "Piers, if ever any man had anything to live
for, you are that man," he said.

"What do you mean?" Piers' eyes, dark as the night through which he had
come, looked up at him.

"I mean just that. If you can't live for your own sake, live for hers!
She wants you. It'll break her heart if you go out now."

"Great Scott, man! You're not in earnest!" whispered Piers.

"I am in earnest. I know exactly what I am saying. I don't talk at
random. She loved you. She wants you. You've lived for yourself all your
life. Now--you've got to live for her."

Tudor's voice was low and vehement. A faint sparkle came into Piers' eyes
as he heard it.

"By George!" he said softly. "You're rather a brick, what? But haven't
you thought--what might happen--if--if I went out after all? You used to
be rather great--at getting me out of the way."

"I didn't realize how all-important you were," rejoined Tudor, with a
bitter smile. "You needn't go any further in that direction. It leads to
a blank wall. You've got to live whether you like it or not. I'm going
to do all I can to make you live, and you'll be a hound if you don't
back me up."

His eyes looked down upon Piers, dominant and piercingly intent.
And--perhaps it was mere physical weakness, or possibly the voluntary
yielding of a strong will that was in its own way as great as the
strength to which it yielded--Piers surrendered with a meekness such as
Tudor had never before witnessed in him.

"All right," he said. "I'll do--my best."

And so oddly they entered into a partnership that had for its sole end
and aim the happiness of the woman they loved; and in that partnership
their rivalry was forever extinguished.

CHAPTER IX

HOLY GROUND

"They say he will never fight again," said Crowther gravel