The Argosy — page 247: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

226 Letters from Majorca. rooms of the dungeon are cool and refreshing. As we cross the courtyard, I point out to Nurse Long a fathomless abyss, down which, night by night, I escape death and destruction. She shudders and turns pale. We mount the staircase, and I open the doors with my passe- partout. We enter the silent, shuttered rooms, lofty, large, and echoing. I describe to her my nightly emotions as I tread them, lonely and alone, in impenetrable darkness. Nurse Long is very emotional. She turns faint, and sinks into a chair. It is an American rocking-chair, and inconvenient for fainting purposes: so she thinks better of it. There is lemonade on the table, duly made and left there by the ever-devoted Catalina, for my especial refreshment on arriving in the small hours of the night. Nurse Long accepts a reviving draught. It matches so well the refreshing coolness of the rooms, that I can do no less than offer one to the doctor. He, too, accepts it—and returns to the charge. This takes place regularly every morning; s that regularly every night I find myself in the position of Mother Hubbard’s dog. My bottle is empty. Mother Hubbard’s dog pro- bably howled: I do not howl. Catalina is under the happy delusion that I thoroughly appreciate her lemonade. Every morning when she arrives, the bottle is as dry as some of the Mallorcan wells that suddenly became exhausted after the earthquake in April. If Catalina only knew it, I also am quite as dry as either the bottle or the wells. When Nurse Long has quite revived, and the doctor has quite finished the lemonade; looking very vient like Oliver, but knowing that it is useless to ask for more; we go into the garden to pick flowers for A. Immediately the room containing the fifty milliner young women is in commotion. It becomes the arena of a pantomime. ‘Their faces have all more or less grown pale with anxiety. ‘They clasp their hands, and in dumb motion ask for news of the invalid. Is he better? Is there more hope? ‘They catch sight of the nurse’s costume, and for a moment their feminine nature asserts itself. Their thoughts are diverted by curiosity. But only for a moment. ‘They turn to the doctor, and sign to him that if he will only restore A. to health and the palace, they will for ever remember him in their prayers. All are shedding tears, and a few are sobbing. After all, I think the Mallor- cans must be very warm-hearted, with a great deal of nice feeling and sentiment about them. Suddenly, in the midst of this emotion, it is evident that a step is heard upon the stairs: the step of the duenna or female Gorgon who superintends this galaxy of Mallorcan beauty. The transforma- tion scene is startling, rapid, and complete. A sudden rush, a scram- ble, a scraping of chairs, and the windows are deserted. The click of fifty needles is distinctly heard. ‘They appear to be working as for a wager, CORMICLIOO KS. (E©) m