her sheet
anchor in a life of vicissitudes. The unwonted ease she enjoyed in
Dalton's home made it a haven of rest after her many storms. Under the
shelter of his protection, she looked forward to regaining, at least,
her good name and standing, if not the place she had rightly forfeited
in his esteem. She had a glimmer of hope that the future held some
promise through Honor's intervention on her behalf.

Honor had done an inconceivable thing. In Mrs. Dalton's view it was
incomprehensible. Her reverence for the Divine Law had caused her to
renounce the man she loved, and to plead with him for the woman who had
lost all moral claim to his regard or consideration. She was wonderful!
and Mrs. Dalton was filled with admiration and respect.

At dinner that evening she had gleaned the first-fruits of Honor's
sacrifice, for he had been less taciturn, and had even responded to his
wife's efforts to engage him in ordinary conversation. Instead of
sitting in silence throughout the meal, or exchanging banal remarks
about the food or the weather, they had discussed the war and all that
India was going to do to prove her loyalty to the Crown. He had spoken
of the advance in science and surgery, bound to result from the lessons
of the war; and had told her of his wishes and intentions regarding
herself should he be suddenly called upon to start for Europe. The
generosity and consideration shown in his arrangement for her, had
touched her deeply, and she had been only too willing to express her
concurrence. It was the first time she had known the sensation of a
genuine and impersonal interest in an intellectual man's conversation;
and she was happier than she had been for many a day. She lay down
again, but sleep would not come to her eyes, and her thoughts were busy
with the subject of Honor's letter. She reasoned with herself to no
purpose, for the stillness of the night bred new fears and intensified
the lurking danger.

What should she do? waken her husband?--or wait till the morning?

Would it not be best to watch over him silently while he slept? It might
move him to gratitude when he should learn of the sacrifice of her
night's rest!

The weather was warm and muggy in spite of the _punkha_ waving in the
room, pulled by the uncertain hand of a coolie half-asleep in the
verandah. There was another waving in like manner, she knew, in her
husband's room at the extreme end of the bungalow; and in both
apartments were windows