Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
Yet she hoped much. He gave her valuable advice, and the Khanum,
too, and promised to return without delay, and with certain
prescriptions, made up from his little store kept in Cabul for the
few wounded soldiers who were hostages there. He rode off, and
Rose's blessings and gratitude went with him. No curiosity as to the
relations of the nurse and patient--peculiar though their
circumstances--prompted a question from the doctor. That Rose should
attend the sick officer seemed only humane and natural. Who other so
suitable was nigh? And to find one more European--a friend
especially--surviving, was source of pleasure enough!
The doctor retired; but, instead of hours, days went by, and he
returned no more; for on the very evening of his visit he was seized
and despatched, with all the rest, under Saleh Mohammed, to
Toorkistan. In another place the doctor was thus enabled to be of
much value to Mabel Trecarrel, and _en route_ towards the desert did
much to alleviate her sufferings, and restore her health; but the
assurance he gave her that he had seen her sister and Denzil
Devereaux too, and that they were safe--perfectly safe--in the
powerful protection of Shireen Khan, did more to this end than all
his prescriptions.
But his advice ultimately availed but little the patient he left
behind, for Denzil grew worse--sank more and more daily; he had but
the superstition and follies or quackery of Abu Malec to interpose
between him and eternity.
Terribly was Rose sensible of all this, as she sat and watched by the
young man's bedside in that desolate room of the fort; for it was
intensely desolate and comfortless, an Afghan noble's ideas of luxury
and splendour being inferior to those possessed by an English groom.
Save the bed on which he lay, two European chairs and a trunk brought
from the plunder of the cantonments, it was as destitute of furniture
as the cell of a prison; and, as if in such a cell, daily the square
outline of the window was seen to fall with the yellow sunshine on
the same part of the wall, and thence pass upward obliquely as the
sun went round, till it faded away at the corner, and then next day
it appeared again, without change.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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