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.
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