“You say that because you are tired.”

“I am more than tired,” he answered.  “I’m done.  I’m beaten.  I’m whipped off the field.”

“You think you are not gaining ground?” she questioned.

“My dear Lady Carfax,” he said quietly, “it’s no use closing one’s eyes to the obvious.  I’m losing ground every day—­every night.”

“But you are not fighting,” she said.

“No.”  He looked at her half-wistfully from under his heavy eyelids.  “Do you think me quite despicable?  I’ve done my best.”

She was silent.  Perhaps she was not fully prepared to cope with this open admission of failure.

“I’ve done my best,” he said again.  “But it’s outlasted my strength.  I’m like a man hanging on to the edge of a precipice.  I know every instant that my grip is slackening, and I can’t help it.  I’ve got to drop.”

“You haven’t done your best yet,” Anne said, her voice very low.  “You’ve got to hold on to the very end.  It may be help is nearer than you think.”

“But if I don’t want help?” he said.  “If it would be more merciful to let me go?”

Again she was silent.

“You know,” he said, “life hasn’t many inducements.  I’ve put up a fight for it because I gave my promise to Nap before he went.  But it isn’t good enough to keep on.  I can’t win through.  The odds are too great.”

“Do you think Nap would let you stop fighting?” she said.

He smiled again faintly.  “I suppose—­if he were here—­I should subsist on his vitality for a little while.  But the end would be the same.  Even he can’t work miracles.”

“Don’t you believe in miracles?” Anne said.

He looked at her interrogatively.

“Mr. Errol,” she said, “I am going to remind you of something that I think you have forgotten.  It was Dr. Capper who told me.  It was when you were recovering consciousness after the operation.  You sent me a message.  ‘Tell Anne,’ you said, ‘I am going to get well.’” She paused a moment, looking at him very steadily.  “I don’t know why exactly you sent that special message to me, but I have carried it in my heart ever since.”

She had moved him at last.  She saw a faint glow spread slowly over the tired face.  The heavy eyes opened wide to meet her look.

“Did I say that?” he said.  “Yes, I had forgotten.”

He was silent for a little, gazing full at her with the eyes of one suddenly awakened.

She lowered her own, and bent her face to the violets.  Though she had spoken so quietly it had not been without effort.  She had not found it easy.  Nor did she find his silence easy, implicitly though she trusted him.

Perhaps he understood, for when he spoke at length there was in his voice so reassuring a gentleness that on the instant her embarrassment passed.

“Anne,” he said, “do you really want me to get well?  Would such a miracle make much difference to you?”