Collis looked down the length of the ward. At the far end, the gauze screens had been taken down from Hannah’s bed. Three nuns were busying themselves with sheets and pillowcases, and Sister Agnes was walking quickly towards them, telling them to make haste, make haste, in Spanish.

Sister Agnes turned and beckoned to Collis, and it was only when she did so that Collis understood what was happening. As she stepped back, he could see that Hannah was still there in her bed, that Hannah was actually sitting up, propped by pillows, and that she was not only alive but awake. She was vividly white, and her eyes were smudged with exhaustion, but she was alive, and she was awake, and she was even smiling.

Collis walked along the ward, and the ward seemed endless. At last he stood beside Hannah’s bed, while the nuns clustered around and watched him with smug benevolence, little fat-faced girls from Rheims.

‘The fever has broken,’ Sister Agnes said. ‘We didn’t expect it to; but the infection appears to have passed its worst. It seems that Mrs West has survived the disease, praise be to God.’

Neither Collis nor Hannah could speak at first. Collis took her hand, bony and thin after five days of debilitating sickness, and held it between his own hands as if it were the most precious possession he had ever owned. Sister Agnes, who had been cheerfully busy up until now, suddenly turned away and took a handkerchief out of her white habit, and the three young nuns from Rheims, who would probably die themselves within a few months, shed unashamed tears of delight.

‘Hannah,’ whispered Collis, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Hannah, I prayed so hard for this.’

She smiled. Almost inaudibly, she whispered, ‘Dear Collis, thank you.’

Collis looked up to Sister Agnes. ‘When did this happen?’ he asked her. ‘Is she really better?’

Sister Agnes nodded through her tears. ‘Early this morning was the worst time of all. Sister Rosa sat beside her from three until ten. She had a high fever, but she stopped coughing up blood and while you were out she cooled down. We don’t know why. Sometimes, very occasionally, it happens this way. But she has almost certainly overcome the fever, and if she takes care she will soon be well again.’

She paused, and then she said, ‘She is one of the few spared by God to serve Him longer on Earth. I am very happy.’

‘How much longer will she have to stay here?’ asked Collis.

‘A week, probably two. We have to get her strength up if she is not to succumb to the fever again.’

‘It’s a miracle. I can hardly believe it.’

‘Do you want to stay for a while?’ asked Sister Agnes. ‘There’s a chair here. Sister Hilda, the chair, please. You can talk for five minutes, but please don’t tax Mrs West too much.’