Now that the strain was over, all felt its effects severely.

The Doctor attended to his patients; Isobel sat by the side of her uncle, giving him some broth that they had brought with them, from time to time, or moistening his lips with weak brandy and water.

He spoke only occasionally.
"I don't much think I shall get down to Allahabad, Isobel," he said.

"If I don't, go down to Calcutta, and go straight to Jamieson and Son; they are my agents, and they will supply you with money to take you home; they have a copy of my will; my agents in London have another copy.

I had two made in case of accident." "Oh, uncle, you will get better now you are out of that terrible place." "I am afraid it is too late, my dear, though I should like to live for your sake.