“That’s better,” he said.  “You’ve had a rough time, I’m afraid, but it’s over now.  Think you can walk, or shall we carry you?”

The matter-of-fact tones seemed to calm the chaos of her brain.  She looked up at him with a faint, brave smile.

“I will walk,—­of course.  There is nothing the matter with me.  What has happened at Kurrumpore?  Is all well?”

He met her eyes.  “Yes,” he said quietly.

Her look flinched momentarily from his, but the next instant she met it squarely.  “I know about—­my baby,” she said.

He bent his head.  “You could not wish it otherwise,” he said, gently.

She answered him with firmness, “No.”

The few words helped to restore her self-possession.  With her hand upon Tommy’s arm she descended the steps into the green gloom of the jungle.  The morning sun was smiting through the leaves.  It gleamed in her eyes like the flashing of a sword.  But—­though the simile held her mind for a space—­she felt no shrinking.  She had a curious conviction that the path lay open before her at last.  The Angel with the Flaming Sword no longer barred the way.

A party of Indian soldiers awaited her.  She did not see how many.  Perhaps she was too tired to take any very vivid interest in her surroundings.  A native litter stood a few yards from the foot of the steps.  Tommy guided her to it, Major Ralston walking on her other side.

She turned to the latter as they reached it.  “Where is Hanani?” she said.

He raised his brows for a moment.  “She has probably gone back to her people,” he answered.

“She was here with me, only a minute ago,” Stella said.

He glanced round.  “She knows her way no doubt.  We had better not wait now.  If you want her, I will find her for you later.”

“Thank you,” Stella said.  But she still paused, looking from Ralston to Tommy and back again, as one uncertain.

“What is it, darling?” said Tommy gently.

She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture of bewilderment.  “I am very stupid,” she said.  “I can’t think properly.  You are sure everything is all right?”

“Quite sure, dear,” he said.  “Don’t try to think now.  You are done up.  You must rest.”

Her face quivered suddenly like the face of a tired child.  “I want—­Everard,” she said piteously.  “Won’t you—­can’t you—­bring him to me?  There is something—­I want—­to say to him.”

There was an instant’s pause.  She felt Tommy’s arm tighten protectingly around her, but he did not speak.

It was Major Ralston who answered her.  “Certainly he shall come to you.  I will see that he does.”

The confidence of his reply comforted her.  She trusted Major Ralston instinctively.  She entered the litter and sank down among the cushions with a sigh.

As they bore her away along the narrow, winding path which once she had trodden with Everard Monck so long, long ago, on the night of her surrender to the mastery of his love, utter exhaustion overcame her and the sleep, which for so long she had denied herself, came upon her like an overwhelming flood, sweeping her once more into the deeps of oblivion.  She went without a backward thought.