It took me almost three hours to make my way back to the village; I comforted myself by heaping maledictions on the head of my driver who had abandoned me.

My feet began to burn from the heat of the sand as it penetrated the soles of my boots.

The sun had begun to set and darkness was descending upon the land. The exotic chattering of monkeys from the jungle on either side of me made the trek even more eerie.

I hardly noticed any of my surroundings; my mind was full of preoccupation concerning Jane and her condition. It was possible that as a dependent, she was deemed unnecessary for more than the basic rights, and no marker laid to mark her resting place. This I dismissed from my mind as a concept too awful to be born. Besides, there was no freshly turned earth to indicate a fresh grave. I chose to focus on this reassuring thought.

I knew in my heart that Jane was still alive, for my heart still beat with the hope of finding her, and if she were perished I doubted not that I also would perish.

I could begin to see the light of the camp fires that signaled my destination.

I made my way to the fire, passing the treacherous guide on my way. I placed a well aimed kick on his back as I passed. He gave a shrill cry of surprise, but when he turned and saw me he ducked his head in a sheepish manner. As I approached closer to the fire the natives made way, clearing a path and giving me the choicest seat by the fire.

I sat and removed my shoes massaging my feet. I was offered an earthenware cup of strong native tea, I was more of the mind for a cup of cool water, and asked for such. There was much consternation among my hosts as I made this request. I was not certain as to why it was such a taboo to ask for this, but settled for my cup of tea.

A smallish wiry native lad settled beside me.

"You must not drink of unheated water, it carries the fever."

I looked at him in irritation; I was impatient of his interruption, but he persistently sat beside me, unfazed by my attempts to brush him off.

"You are a white man; you cannot drink of the water." His eyes were bright and animated as he looked up at me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"I will drink of what I damn well please." I snapped, still in a fury over being deserted by my guide.

"I require a cart to take me to the station, and not the last guide, damn him!"

The boy nodded, and then looked at me narrowly.

"We have a sick white woman we are transporting back to her people, you can return with her. If you wish."

I rose to my feet in an instant. All my hopes and fears descended upon me at once, I almost felt smothered by the weight of my hope.

"Take me to her." I demanded, but my voice wavered.

My tone indicated that I would brook no refusal, and he rose to his feet with alacrity.

He motioned for me to follow him, so I did. The natives eddying back around the fire, filling the space I had occupied, as I left. We made our way through the encampment, I urging the boy to greater speed. At last, he slowed and with a wiry, dark hand pulled back the tent flap of a dirty tent, dislodging a swarm of flies. They attached themselves to me with a determination that was quite infuriating. I brushed them off with a malediction, and then turned my attention towards seeking what I most craved.

I bent over to enter the cramped native dwelling, at first I saw nothing, but then my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the abode, and I beheld her on a heap of coarse blankets and sacking.

It was Jane, my Jane, her eyes open, yet unseeing, and her face made skeletal by the ravages of the fever. The smell was almost overpowering to me. I was not used to the stench of the sick-room; it was horrendous to my senses.

I quickly knelt beside her, taking her hand in mine. It was burning to my touch, even as hot as I was in the accursed Indian heat. I anxiously scanned her slight form, feasting my eyes on her face. I spoke to her, but what I said I do not remember. There was no flicker of recognition that crossed her face as I spoke words of love and comfort. She was so far from me that even my voice failed to reach her. Was this my curse? Was I sentenced to find my life, my love, only to watch her as she expired? No!

I utterly rejected that idea; God was not as cruel as that. Jane had spoken to me before of His mercy towards me, that if I approached Him with a sincere and repentant heart, that there would be clemency.

On my knees, beside her I gasped out a prayer, not for myself, but for her. I prayed to the very God I had cursed and raged at in the past, pleading with Him to save my Jane.

I tenderly lifted the frail form in my arms, supporting the lolling head on my chest. Tears forced themselves from my eyes, stinging and burning as they exited.

There was a soft rustling in the corner, I had forgotten about the native boy. He was sitting in the corner, regarding me with bright excited eyes.

"You know her, the English Mem Sahib?"

I nodded.

"I will take charge of her from here on, I will undertake care of her."

He nodded and a look of relief crossed his face.

"Yes, Sahib. She has a kind heart. You will take care of her?"

I nodded again; there was an infernal lump of some kind that made swallowing or speaking uncomfortable.

"You must get a cart to take us to the nearest station, I will pay handsomely for it, but we must leave immediately, she must have a doctor to attend to her." I wiped the perspiration from her brow with my handkerchief.

"How came she to be alone and ill out here?"

The boy paused on his way out of the tent.

"She came to watch over the children with a officers family. They were not good people. When the little girl died and the fever hit my people, the white men all left. They left her too, for she was ill. I brought her here till we could send her to her people, though many of us thought they would not have her. She is a lower caste, and they treat her like a cur."

Fury rose in me, to the point I wished that I might slay the people who thus treated a fellow human.

I motioned for the child to hasten away and I clutched my precious burden even closer. But alas, she was still and unknowing; death seemed to hover closer, trying to steal my love even as I held her.