on: a ship arrived from
England. On it was one who had come to Jamaica to act as governess to
two children of the officer commanding the regular troops in the island.
She had been ill for a week before nearing Kingston, and when the
Regent reached the harbour she was in a bad way. The ship's doctor
was despondent about her; but he was a second-rate man, and felt that
perhaps an island doctor might give her some hope. When she was carried
ashore she was at once removed to the home of the general commanding at
Spanish Town, and there a local doctor saw her.

"What is her history?" he asked, after he had seen the haggard face of
the woman.

The ship's doctor did not know; and the general commanding was in the
interior at the head of his troops. There was no wife in the general's
house, as he was a widower; and his daughters, of twelve and fourteen,
under a faithful old housekeeper, had no knowledge of the woman's life.

When she was taken to the general's house she was in great dejection,
and her face had a look of ennui and despair. She was thin and worn, and
her eyes only told of the struggle going on between life and death.

"What is her name?" asked the resident doctor. "Noreen Balfe," was the
reply of the ship's doctor.

"A good old Irish name, though you can see she comes of the lower ranks
of life."

"Married?"

The ship's doctor pointed to her hand which had a wedding-ring. "Ah,
yes, certainly... what hope have you of her?"

"I don't know what to say. The fever is high. She isn't trying to live;
she's got some mental trouble, I believe. But you and I would be of no
use in that kind of thing."

"I don't take to new-fangled ideas of mental cure," said the ship's
doctor. "Cure the body and the mind will cure itself."

A cold smile stole to the lips of the resident doctor. Those were
days of little scientific medical skill, and no West Indian doctor had
knowledge enough to control a discussion of the kind. "But I'd like to
see some one with brains take an interest in her," he remarked.

"I leave her in your hands," was the reply. "I'm a ship's medico, and
she's now ashore."

"It's a pity," said the resident doctor reflectively, as he watched a
servant doing necessary work at the bedside. "She hasn't long to go as
she is, yet I've seen such cases recover."

As they left the room together they met Sheila and one of the daughters
of the house. "I've come to see the sick woman from the ship, if I may,"
She