ore our interference with impatience, and finally insisted
upon our leaving him to her, saying that our movements made him
restless, which I think was true. Day and night she watched him and
tended him, giving him his only medicine, a native cooling drink made
of milk, in which was infused juice from the bulb of a species of
tulip, and keeping the flies from settling on him. I can see the whole
picture now as it appeared night after night by the light of our
primitive lamp; Good tossing to and fro, his features emaciated, his
eyes shining large and luminous, and jabbering nonsense by the yard;
and seated on the ground by his side, her back resting against the wall
of the hut, the soft-eyed, shapely Kukuana beauty, her face, weary as
it was with her long vigil, animated by a look of infinite
compassion--or was it something more than compassion?

For two days we thought that he must die, and crept about with heavy
hearts.

Only Foulata would not believe it.

"He will live," she said.

For three hundred yards or more around Twala's chief hut, where the
sufferer lay, there was silence; for by the king's order all who lived
in the habitations behind it, except Sir Henry and myself, had been
removed, lest any noise should come to the sick man's ears. One night,
it was the fifth of Good's illness, as was my habit, I went across to
see how he was doing before turning in for a few hours.

I entered the hut carefully. The lamp placed upon the floor showed the
figure of Good tossing no more, but lying quite still.

So it had come at last! In the bitterness of my heart I gave something
like a sob.

"Hush--h--h!" came from the patch of dark shadow behind Good's head.

Then, creeping closer, I saw that he was not dead, but sleeping
soundly, with Foulata's taper fingers clasped tightly in his poor white
hand. The crisis had passed, and he would live. He slept like that for
eighteen hors; and I scarcely like to say it, for fear I should not be
believed, but during the entire period did this devoted girl sit by
him, fearing that if she moved and drew away her hand it would wake
him. What she must have suffered from cramp and weariness, to say
nothing of want of food, nobody will ever know; but it is the fact
that, when at last he woke, she had to be carried away--her limbs were
so stiff that she could not move them.

After the turn had once been taken, Good's recovery was rapid and
complete. It was not till he was nearly we