tended the conference of all the English men of letters, called
together to compose a reply to the manifesto of the German
professors. I at least among all those writers can say, 'What I have
written I have written.'"

Then his illness came upon him. Dr. Pocock, coming for a first visit,
found the bed partly broken under the weight of the patient who was
lying in a grotesquely awkward position, his hips higher than his
head.

"You must be horribly uncomfortable," he said.

"Why, now you mention it," said G.K., like a man receiving a new
idea, "I suppose I am."

The doctor ordered a water-bed, and almost the last words he heard
before the patient sank into coma were, "I wonder if this bally ship
will ever get to shore."

The illness lasted several months. We can follow its progress (and
his) in extracts from letters* written to Father O'Connor by Frances:

Nov. 25th, 1914. You must pray for him. He is seriously ill and I
have two nurses. It is mostly heart-trouble, but there are
complications. He is quite his normal self, as to head and brain, and
he even dictates and reads a great deal.

Dec. 29th, 1914. Gilbert had a bad relapse on Christmas Eve, and
now is being desperately ill. He is not often conscious, and is so
weak--I feel he might ask for you--if so I shall wire. Dr. is still
hopeful, but I feel in despair.

Jan. 3rd, 1915. If you came he would not know you, and this
condition may last some time. The brain is dormant, and must be kept
so. If he is sufficiently conscious at any moment to understand, I
will ask him to let you come--or will send on my own responsibility.
Pray for his soul and mine.

Jan. 7th, 1915. Gilbert seemed decidedly clearer yesterday, and
though not quite so well today the doctor says he has reason to hope
the mental trouble is working off. His heart is stronger, and he is
able to take plenty of nourishment. Under the circumstances therefore
I am hoping and praying he may soon be sufficiently himself to tell
us what he wants done. I am dreadfully unhappy at not knowing how he
would wish me to act. His parents would never forgive me if I acted
only on my own authority. I do pray to God He will restore him to
himself that we may know. I feel in His mercy He will, even if death
is the end of it--or the beginning shall I say?

Jan. 12th, 1915. He is really better I believe and by the mercy of
God I dare hope