The Argosy — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

228 Letters from Majorca. able to read each other’s thoughts. ‘Then, no doubt, speech: only given to man it 1s said to conceal thought: will be done away with. As concealment will then no longer be possible, speech, on the principle of the survival of the fittest, must die out. But as I do not wish to intrude upon you the elements of logic, © metaphysics, or philosophy: lest, endeavouring to show my wisdom, I prove my folly by getting out of my depth: we will return to our sheep. So in our daily visits to the dungeon, we gather for A. a fresh bouquet of flowers: rich plumbago, gorgeous geraniums, sweet verbena and scented jessamine: we cross the silent and desolate rooms, and pass out into the street. Our next visit 1s to the telegraph office, and we consult as to how we can give most consolation without unduly raising hopes in those that are afar off. We never send to-day’s message without wondering what to-morrow will bring forth. Will the day come when we shall be able to flash the words: Out of danger? And yet another day and a last, with the one word: Convalescent ? In the meantime, the days pass. Anxiety is our portion ; alternate hope and fear; the improvement of one hour giving way to the relapse of the next. It is unusual; it is puzzling and discouraging. Dr. Fitzgilbert is doing everything that skill and attention, thought and experience, can suggest: but the enemy is not subdued. The intense heat of the weather makes the task almost impossible, or would seem to do so. It is most unusual heat, even for Palma, and cannot be described ; quite a different heat from anything English ; hotter than the hottest day ever experienced in our island. You can- not imagine it. I revel in it: the only one of our little community to whom it seems to come with healing on its wings. The extreme heat of the South, the dry, bracing air of a Norwegian winter, to me both are alike good. Here, I try to heighten my enjoyment by the force of contrast: by imagining that you are all suffering from East winds and all the discomforts of an English climate. Barbara has become reconciled to the change of doctors and treatment; has at length received Dr. Fitzgilbert into her good graces. The citadel of her heart was only gradually stormed, but, like the slow changes of a barometer, it is more likely to last. For either of us I believe she would take a pilgrimage, or do penance, in the dead of night. No one knows when she goes to bed or when she gets up. My impression is that for the occasion she has become endowed with superhuman faculties. She is a mystery for the time being ; as impenetrable as the Sphinx, as obscure as the Oracle. But a Sphinx, an Oracle, altogether benevolent and well-disposed. She still goes to early morning church, armed with her capacious basket. The day would not begin well for Barbara if she did not tell her beads under that sacred roof. ‘Then she flits away to market; an interesting figure, hurrying leisurely (if you can make anything of the expression) through the picturesque streets of this ever picturesque Palma de Mallorca. ‘The sun has risen; everything is bright and CORMIECLIOO; KS. (E©)