Holden had been told to keep himself in readiness to move to replace the next man who should fall.  There were twelve hours in each day when he could not see Ameera, and she might die in three.  He was considering what his pain would be if he could not see her for three months, or if she died out of his sight.  He was absolutely certain that her death would be demanded—­so certain that when he looked up from the telegram and saw Pir Khan breathless in the doorway, he laughed aloud.  ‘And?’ said he,—­

’When there is a cry in the night and the spirit flutters into the throat, who has a charm that will restore?  Come swiftly, Heaven-born!  It is the black cholera.’

Holden galloped to his home.  The sky was heavy with clouds, for the long-deferred rains were near and the heat was stifling.  Ameera’s mother met him in the courtyard, whimpering, ’She is dying.  She is nursing herself into death.  She is all but dead.  What shall I do, sahib?’

Ameera was lying in the room in which Tota had been born.  She made no sign when Holden entered, because the human soul is a very lonely thing and, when it is getting ready to go away, hides itself in a misty borderland where the living may not follow.  The black cholera does its work quietly and without explanation.  Ameera was being thrust out of life as though the Angel of Death had himself put his hand upon her.  The quick breathing seemed to show that she was either afraid or in pain, but neither eyes nor mouth gave any answer to Holden’s kisses.  There was nothing to be said or done.  Holden could only wait and suffer.  The first drops of the rain began to fall on the roof, and he could hear shouts of joy in the parched city.

The soul came back a little and the lips moved.  Holden bent down to listen.  ‘Keep nothing of mine,’ said Ameera.  ’Take no hair from my head.  She would make thee burn it later on.  That flame I should feel.  Lower!  Stoop lower!  Remember only that I was thine and bore thee a son.  Though thou wed a white woman to-morrow, the pleasure of receiving in thy arms thy first son is taken from thee for ever.  Remember me when thy son is born—­the one that shall carry thy name before all men.  His misfortunes be on my head.  I bear witness—­I bear witness’—­the lips were forming the words on his ear—­’that there is no God but—­thee, beloved!’

Then she died.  Holden sat still, and all thought was taken from him,—­ till he heard Ameera’s mother lift the curtain.

‘Is she dead, sahib?’

‘She is dead.’

’Then I will mourn, and afterwards take an inventory of the furniture in this house.  For that will be mine.  The sahib does not mean to resume it?  It is so little, so very little, sahib, and I am an old woman.  I would like to lie softly.’

’For the mercy of God be silent a while.  Go out and mourn where I cannot hear.’

‘Sahib, she will be buried in four hours.’