en these two men the woman
always stood, dividing them, even now when the one was ministering to
the other, was bringing the other back to life, was giving up everything
for the other.

For this prolonged stay in Egypt was likely to prove a serious thing to
Isaacson. Not only was he losing much money by it now. Probably, almost
certainly, he would lose money by it in the future. There were moments
when he thought about this with a secret vexation. But they passed, and
quickly. He had his reward in the growing strength of the sick man. Yet
sometimes it was difficult to bear the almost stony reserve which took
the colour out of his life in the Villa Androud. It would have been more
difficult still if he too, like Bella Donna, had not had his work to do
in the dark. Since they had arrived in Luxor he had been seeking for a
motive. The moment came when at last he found it.

Prompted by him, Hassan played upon Ibrahim's indignation at having been
supplanted for so long by Hamza, and drew from him the truth of Mrs.
Armine's days while Nigel had been away in the Fayyum.

Isaacson's treatment of Nigel's case had succeeded wonderfully. As the
great heats began to descend upon Upper Egypt, the health of the invalid
improved day by day. Mrs. Armine saw life returning into the eyes that
had expressed a sick weariness of an existence suddenly overcast by the
cloud of suffering. The limbs moved more easily as a greater vitality
was shed through the body. The nights were no longer made a torment by
the acute rheumatic pains. The parched mouth and throat craved no more
perpetually for the cooling drinks that had not allayed their misery.
Light could be borne without any grave discomfort, and the agonizing
abdominal pains, which had made the victim writhe and almost desire
death, had entirely subsided. From the face, too, the dreadful hue which
had even struck those who had only seen Nigel casually had nearly
departed. Though still very thin and pale, it did not look unnatural. It
was now the face of a man who had recently suffered, and suffered much;
it was not a face that suggested the grave.

Nigel would recover, was fast recovering. He would not be strong for a
time, perhaps for a long time. But he was "out of the wood." One day he
realized it, and told himself so, silently, with a sort of wonder
mingled with a joy half solemn, half lively with the liveliness of the
spirit that again felt the touch of youth.

The day that he re