Jane's eyes and ears had served her well at last; she caught the
change in him and her will grasped the hope with more dogged tenacity
than before. The word went out that there was a chance for him.
Her vigil ended when Bray came to lead her away--ended because she
dropped from exhaustion.

The next morning, after a dead sleep of hours, she returned to
his side. The surgeon smiled and the nurse clasped her hands with
tears in her eyes. Bansemer was breathing thickly and tossing in
delirum. It was as if he had been lifted from the grave.

Lieutenant Bray was seated in front of the convent late that
evening, moodily studying his own emotions. Teresa, still attired
as she had been for weeks, hung about the chapel with the persistance
of a friendless dog. He watched her and pitied her, even as he
pitied himself for the wound he was nursing. What was to become of
her? He called her to him.

"Sefiorita, they say he is better. Tell me, does it mean much to
you?"

"Oh, sefior, he has been noble and good and honourable. If he lives
I shall always hold these weeks with him in absolute reverence."

"Then she does not understand?"

"She? What is there for her to understand? She loves him and he
loves her. That is enough."

"She says she will not marry him. There must be a reason."