would have laid down her life to save him from the least of his pains, but
she could only sit by him watching the struggle, knowing that nothing could
be done to relieve him. She had seen the same scene repeated a hundred
times before, but it never seemed to lose any of its terror. In the first
month of their marriage she had been frightened by one of these asthmatic
attacks. It had come on in the middle of the night, and she remembered well
how she had prayed to God that it should not be her fate to see her husband
die before her eyes. She knew now that death was not to be apprehended--the
paroxysm would wear itself out--but she knew also of the horrors that would
have to be endured before the time of relief came. She could count them
upon her fingers--she could see it all as in a vision--a nightmare that
would drag out its long changes until the dawn began to break; she
anticipated the hours of the night.

'Air! Air! I'm suff-o-cating!' he sobbed out with a desperate effort.

Kate ran to the window and threw it open. The paroxysm had reached its
height, and, resting his elbows well on his knees, he gasped many times,
but before the inspiration was complete his strength failed him. No want
but that of breath could have forced him to try again; and the second
effort was even more terrible than the first. A great upheaval, a great
wrenching and rocking seemed to be going on within him; the veins on his
forehead were distended, the muscles of his chest laboured, and it seemed
as if every minute were going to be his last. But with a supreme effort he
managed to catch breath, and then there was a moment of respite, and Kate
could see that he was thinking of the next struggle, for he breathed
avariciously, letting the air that had cost him so much agony pass slowly
through his lips. To breathe again he would have to get on to his feet,
which he did, and so engrossed was he in the labour of breathing that he
pushed the paraffin lamp roughly; it would have fallen had Kate not been