"Ah, why should you take all that trouble to save my life?" Stella said, a little quiver of passion in her voice. "Do you think life is so precious to me—now?"
Hanani made a protesting gesture with one arm. "Lo, it is yet night, mem-sahib," she said. "But is it not written in the sacred Book that with the dawn comes joy?"
"There can never be any joy for me again," Stella said.
Hanani leaned slowly forward. "Then will my mem-sahib have missed the meaning of life," she said. "Listen then—listen to old Hanani—who knows! It is true that the baba cannot return to the mem-sahib, but would she call him back to pain? Have I not read in her eyes night after night the silent prayer that he might go in peace? Now that the God of gods has answered that prayer—now that the baba is in peace—would my mem-sahib have it otherwise? Would she call that loved one back? Would she not rather thank the God of spirits for His great mercy—and so go her way rejoicing?"
Again the utterance was too full of tenderness to give her pain. It sank deep into Stella's heart, stilling for a space the anguish. She looked at the strange, draped figure beside her that spoke those husky words of comfort with a dawning sense of reverence. She had a curious feeling as of one being guided through a holy place.
"You—comfort me, Hanani," she said after a moment. "I don't think I am really grieving for the baba yet. That will come after. I know that—as you say—he is at peace, and I would not call him back. But—Hanani—that is not all. It is not even the half or the beginning of my trouble. The loss of my baba I can bear—I could bear—bravely. But the loss of—of—" Words failed her unexpectedly. She bowed her head again upon her arms and wept the bitter tears of despair.
Hanani the ayah sat very still by her side, her brown, bony hands tightly gripped about her knees, her veiled head bent slightly forward as though she watched for someone in the dimness of the broken archway.
At last very, very slowly she spoke.
"Mem-sahib, even in the desert the sun rises. There is always comfort for those who go forward—even though they mourn."
"Not for me," sobbed Stella. "Not for those—who part—in bitterness—and never—meet again!"