And so when presently he roused her by lifting her to resume the journey, she shed piteous tears upon his shoulder, imploring him to leave her where she was.  He would not listen to her.  He knew that it was highly dangerous to rest so close to habitation, and he would not risk another day in such precarious shelter.

So for hours he carried her with a strength almost superhuman, forcing his physical powers into subjection to his will.  Though limping badly, he covered several miles of wild and broken country, deserted for the most part, almost incredibly lonely, till towards sunrise he found a resting-place in a hollow high up the side of a mountain, overlooking a winding, desolate pass.

Muriel was either sleeping or sunk in the stupor of exhaustion.  There was some brandy left in his flask, and he made her take a little.  But it scarcely roused her, and she was too weak to notice that he did not touch any himself.

All through the scorching day that followed, she dozed and woke in feverish unrest, sometimes rambling incoherently till he brought her gravely back, sometimes crying weakly, sometimes making feeble efforts to pray.

All through the long, burning hours he never stirred away from her.  He sat close to her, often holding her in his arms, for she seemed less restless so; and perpetually he gazed out with terrible, bloodshot eyes over the savage mountains, through the long, irregular line of pass, watching eagle-like, tireless and intent, for the deliverance which, if it came at all, must come that way.  His face was yellow and sunken, lined in a thousand wrinkles like the face of a monkey; but his eyes remained marvellously bright.  They looked as if they had not slept for years, as if they would never sleep again.  He was at the end of his resources and he knew it, but he would watch to the very end.  He would die watching.

As the sun sank in a splendour that transfigured the eternally white mountain-crest to a mighty shimmer of rose and gold, he turned at last and looked down at the white face pillowed upon his arm.  The eyes were closed.  The ineffable peace of Death seemed to dwell upon the quiet features.  She had lain so for a long time, and he had fancied her sleeping.

He caught his breath, feeling for his flask, and for the first time his hands shook uncontrollably.  But as the raw spirit touched her lips, he saw her eyelids quiver, and a great gasp of relief went through him.  As she opened her eyes he stayed his hand.  It seemed cruel to bring her back.  But the suffering and the half instinctive look of horror passed from her eyes like a shadow, as they rested upon him.  There was even the very faint flicker of a smile about them.

She turned her face slightly towards him with the gesture of a child nestling against his breast.  Yet though she lay thus in his arms, he felt keenly, bitterly, that she was very far away from him.

He hung over her, still holding himself in with desperate strength, not daring to speak lest he should disturb the holy peace that seemed to be drawing all about her.