"If, in spite of all our efforts, he should not recover, you may take it that he is fated to die of this stroke. One can't kick against Fate."
"There is no such thing as Fate! If you do your best, God helping, he will recover, I am sure of it. I am praying so hard for his wife's sake. If we keep in touch with God and do our best unremittingly, it is all that is wanted of us."
"If any one's prayers ever reach heaven, I am sure yours do!... Do you ever pray for me?"
"Always!"
"What for, specially?"
Honor hesitated for a moment, then murmured, "That we may never be parted in life, and that I may succeed in making you happy."
Dalton kissed her reverently. "Any more than that? Do you never say, 'Make him a good boy'? I need that more than anything. It is what mothers teach their kiddies to say, but it's forgotten when they grow up."
"I'll say that, too, if you wish it."
"Say it every night of your life; and also that my sins may be forgiven me. They are many!"
The evening the nurse arrived from Calcutta to take charge of the case, Meredith was improving in spite of the insupportable heat. Punkhas waved unceasingly in the bungalows, and quantities of ice were consumed. People moved about without energy, mopping their faces and yearning for the relief of a nor'wester, while a "brain-fever" bird cried its melancholy cadences with aggravating monotony, from a tree in the Collector's garden, where every leaf and twig had a thick coating of dust. A grey pall in the north-west tantalised with its suggestion of a possible thunderstorm, which, if it burst, would instantly cool the overcharged atmosphere; and anxious eyes glanced at it with longing.