is?

The dumb sympathy of Peter's eyes kept the torturing thought constantly
before her. She felt sure that Peter believed him guilty of Dacre's
murder though it was more than possible that in his heart he condoned
the offence. Perhaps he even admired him for it, she reflected
shudderingly. But his devotion to her, as always, was uppermost. His
dog-like fidelity surrounded her with unfailing service. The _ayah_ had
gone, and he had slipped into her place as naturally as if he had always
occupied it. Even now, while Stella stood at her window gazing forth
into the garish moonlight, was he softly padding to and fro in the room
adjoining hers, hushing the poor little wailing infant to sleep. She
could trust him implicitly, she knew, even in moments of crisis. He
would gladly work himself to death in her service. But with Mrs.
Ralston gone to Bhulwana, she knew she must have further help. The
strain was incessant, and Major Ralston insisted that she must have a
woman with her.

All the ladies of the station, save herself, had gone. She knew vaguely
that some sort of disturbance was expected at Khanmulla, and that it
might spread to Kurrumpore. But her baby was too ill for travel; she had
practically forced this truth from Major Ralston, and so she had no
choice but to remain. She knew very well at the heart of her that it
would not be for long.

No thought of personal danger troubled her. Sinister though the night
might seem to her stretched nerves, yet no sense of individual peril
penetrated the weary bewilderment of her brain. She was tired out in
mind and body, and had yielded to Peter's persuasion to take a rest. But
the weird cry of the night-bird had drawn her to the window and the
glittering splendour of the night had held her there. She turned from it
at last with a long, long sigh, and lay down just as she was. She always
held herself ready for a call at any time. Those strange seizures came
so suddenly and were becoming increasingly violent. It was many days
since she had permitted herself to sleep soundly.

She lay for awhile wide-eyed, almost painfully conscious, listening to
Peter's muffled movements in the other room. The baby had ceased to cry,
but he was still prowling to and fro, tireless and patient, with an
endurance that was almost superhuman.

She had done the same thing a little earlier till her limbs had given
way beneath her. In the daytime Bernard helped her, but she and Peter
shared the night