d
down the car. Then he controlled himself and resumed his seat.

Moment by moment, almost second by second, the dreary night had worn
away. It was full morning when the train had halted inside the
familiar station. After his vigil, the healthy stir of the streets
appeared to Weldon like the confused picture of a dream, and it had
been like a man in a dream that he had been driven away to the
hospital. Then, on the steps, he had seen Ethel, and the dream had
been shattered, giving way, for the instant, to the perfect
happiness of reality.

But the surgeons at Johannesburg had shaken their heads. The delay,
although unavoidable, had been full of danger. One only chance
remained, and they would take that chance. Weldon had lingered until
he was ordered away; then, with Ethel beside him, he had gone to
find a doctor who could dress his own wounds and make him fit to
face the ordeal which he knew was awaiting him. For one short
moment, he had felt Ethel's hands busy about his shoulder and head
and wrist, had rejoiced in the quiet strength of their soothing
touch. For another moment, their eyes had met; but no word had been
spoken between them. Then Alice had come to them, bringing the
surgeon's verdict. That had been an hour before. Now they still were
there, watching the slow approach of the inevitable summons.

Slowly the day waxed--and waned. For the waning life, there was no
interval of waxing. Slowly, steadily, by infinitesimal degrees, Leo
Frazer was sinking down into the Valley of the Shadow. Once the head
surgeon had stepped behind the screens and bent over the bed. Only
Ethel had seen the brief contraction of his brows; but no one of
them was deceived by his cheery words of parting. And still the blue
eyes rested upon Ethel, as if seeking to gain from her the answer to
some unspoken question, as if begging her to share with him some
fraction of her quiet strength. Now and then Ethel wondered at her
own quiet. This was the second week of her promised month with her
cousin; but it was the first time she had come face to face with
death, the first time, too, that her work had taken on any hint of
personality. Now, suddenly confronted with these three, Death and
the two men who, during the past fourteen months, had played so
active parts in her life, she was surprised to find that she faced
them steadily and in silence. As yet, she felt no wish to make any
moan. That would come later, when her nerves had relaxed a