General Bounce; Or, The Lady and the LocustsWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
General Bounce; Or, The Lady and the Locusts
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
In four-and-twenty hours D’Orville was laid upon his small
camp-bedstead in a brain fever. The excitement of his late life; the
reaction consequent on his abandonment of his awful resolution; the
strong revulsion of feeling, into which we have no right to pry, had
been too much for a constitution already shaken by years of
dissipation and hard service beneath an Indian sun; and for days
together life and death trembled in the balance so evenly that it
seemed a single grain might turn the scale. And of all his comrades,
who was it that watched at his bedside with the attention, almost the
tenderness, of a woman--sitting up by him at night, giving him his
medicine, smoothing his pillow, and tending him with a brother’s
love?--who but Lacquers! the unmeaning, empty dandy--the fellow with
but two ideas, his dress and his horses--the ignorant, grown-up
schoolboy that could scarcely write his own name; but, for all that,
the staunch, unflinching comrade, the true-hearted, generous friend.
When the lamp, after flickering and fading, and well-nigh dying out
altogether, began once more to flame up pretty steadily, and the
Major, gaunt and grim, with nearly white moustaches, and a black
skull-cap, and haggard hollow cheeks, began to experience the
superhuman appetite of convalescence, and the wonderful longing for
open air and country scenery, and such simple natural pleasures, which
invariably comes over those who have been near the confines of Life
and Death, as though they brought back with them from that mysterious
borderland the earlier instincts of childhood; when, in short, the
Major was getting better, and could sit at his window and see the
white charger go to exercise, or the regiment get under arms below,
many and long were the conversations between him and Lacquers on the
thoughts and feelings which almost insensibly had sprung up in each of
them. Lacquers did not conceal his disappointment as regarded Blanche.
Poor fellow, he had made her an honest, disinterested offer, and it
had not entered into his calculations that he might be repulsed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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