The Argosy — page 253: what you’re looking at

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

232 Letters from Majorca. beauty, and sentiment in its purest type. The sea plashes gently at our feet ; washes and surges over the great stones and rocks. The shooting stars leave long tracks of light behind them, dying out in the eternal silence of space. ‘T don’t know what’s to be done,” muses Dr. Fitzgilbert. ‘ With- — out more help, Nurse Long will knock up; we shall all knock up. And help is not to be found in Palma. If I had only known, and brought out two nurses with me instead of one!” ‘“A”’s want of progress is very discouraging,” I remark. “It really seems as if the fever might be indefinitely prolonged. I fear, too, it will go hard with James. He has long been depressed, and has visions of leaving his bones in a foreign land. His vitality is low. All that is against him.” “‘ A.’s condition is more than discouraging,” said the doctor. ‘It is inexplicable. It does not yield an inch to ordinary measures. I have tried every earthly thing, without apparent result. All I can say is that he is no worse than when I arrived. I strongly begin to suspect that he is suffering from what is called Mediterranean or Malta Typhoid, of which of course I have had no experience. If so, he never will get really better until he leaves the island.” ‘That sounds alarming,” I said. ‘‘ What should we have done if you had not come over?” The doctor was modestly silent. No answer, indeed, was necessary. One knew only too well what we should have done, and what would have happened, in all human probability. But the present dilemma was serious. No one could afford to knock up from overwork. And there was just a chance of others falling ill too. For some time, I, for instance, had been subjected to the same influences as A.; was still inhabiting the dungeon, where, it seemed probable, lay the seat of danger. Why should not I also become victim No. 3? ‘‘ Why not telegraph for another nurse ?” I suggested. ‘ You will want her; you want her now; and you may as well have her before it is too late.” ‘The very thing I have been trying to persuade myself to do,” replied Dr. Fitzgilbert. ‘As you say, we want help even now. In fact, we cannot possibly do without it.” ‘And if you telegraph to-night, there will be just time for her to catch next Monday’s boat,” I added, by way of strengthening the argument. ‘‘Let’s think it over as we go along,” cried the doctor. We were then on our way to the telegraph office, our nightly mission in our nightly walk. It is just opposite the old Moorish fountain, to which you have been introduced. The walk through the town is delicious. ‘The echo of our footsteps breaks the silence of night. The old watchmen turn their lanterns upon us when we meet them, and throw us a “Buenas noches, Senores!” Perhaps afar CONMICMOOOKS. © m