Nerved by the one all-powerful motive, Haidee had kept up, and exhibited extraordinary powers of endurance. When her companion sank exhausted from heat and thirst, this brave and beautiful woman watched over him, encouraged him, and gave him hope. Her gentle hand wiped his brow, her soft bosom pillowed his head. Her love for him grew stronger each day. To lie at his feet, to pillow his head, to watch him when he slept, was joy inexpressible to her. And yet during this journey she never by a single word betrayed aught of the strong passion which filled her heart; but every action, every deed proclaimed it. On his part he tried to think of her only as one who had befriended him, and to whom it was his duty to offer such protection as lay in his power. But on the road from Delhi he proved the weaker vessel of the two, for the awful heat, aided by the want of proper rest and sustenance, sorely tired him. She, on the other hand, inured from birth to the heat, and strengthened by her great love for him, kept up when he faltered, and exhibited, comparatively speaking, but little weariness. Hers was the devotion of a true woman; it was self-sacrificing, all-absorbing, undying. Truly she had made him her star that gave her only light. She had no selfish thought, except such selfishness as is begotten by true love--for all love is selfish; it is its very nature to be so. And yet this faithfulness made the man sad. He felt that he could not return her love, however much he might admire her. However much he might feel grateful, however great his worship for her nobleness of nature might be, he must shut his eyes to her charms, close his senses to her silent outpourings of love, for he was another’s, and to that one he must be true, or feel that for evermore the honour which was so very dear to him was sullied, and time could never wipe out the stain again. Often as he dragged his weary steps along, with the loving Haidee by his side, he mentally asked himself if he was not pursuing a phantom that was luring him to unknown danger. Had he done right in setting his face towards Cawnpore, and could he justify the course he had taken by any amount of logical reasoning? He was striving to do his duty. If he failed, it would be through error of judgment, and not through want of heart. As the two travellers stood upon the Cawnpore bank of the river Ganges, Harper gave vent to a sigh of relief. But Haidee seemed to be pressed with a weight of sorrow. “You do not seem well, Haidee,” Harper remarked casually, as he observed the depressed look of his companion. “Your eyes are dull, and your cheek is pale. What is the cause?” She looked at him almost reproachfully, and her only answer was a long-drawn sigh.