What if a hand had indeed touched him?
What if a treacherous blow had hurled him over that terrible edge?
She turned to look again upon the stranger, but he had withdrawn himself.

She saw only the Indian servant, standing close beside her, his dark eyes following her every action with wistful vigilance.
Meeting her desperate gaze, he pressed a little nearer, like a faithful dog, protective and devoted.

"Come away, my _mem-sahib!_" he entreated very earnestly.

"It is the Gate of Death." That pierced her anew.

Her desolation came upon her in an overwhelming wave.