"I'm sorry to say I do. He was quite well until he got out of his bunk half an hour ago. Then a sudden, but violent, fit of nausea seized him, and drove him back to bed again."
"I am very sorry to hear it, but I hope he will be better soon. He would have been one of the last men I should have expected to be bowled over. Are you coming for a turn round?"
"I shall feel honoured," he answered, and thereupon we set off, step for step, for a constitutional round the deck. By the time we had finished it was nine o'clock, and the saloon gong had sounded for breakfast.
The meal over, I repaired to the Marquis' cabin, and having knocked, was bidden enter. I found My Lord in bed, retching violently; his complexion was the colour of zinc, his hands were cold and clammy, and after every spasm his face streamed with perspiration.
"I'm indeed sorry to see you like this," I said, bending over him. "How do you feel now?"
"Very bad indeed!" he answered with a groan. "I cannot understand it at all. Before I got out of bed this morning I felt as well as possible. Then Mr. Baxter was kind enough to bring me a cup of coffee, and within five minutes of drinking it, I was obliged to go back to bed feeling hopelessly sick and miserable."
"Well, you must try and get round as soon as you can, and come on deck; there's a splendid breeze blowing, and you'll find that'll clear the sickness out of you before you know where you are."
But his only reply was another awful fit of sickness, that made as if it would tear his very chest asunder. While he was under the influence of it, his tutor entered, and set about ministering to him with a care and fatherly tenderness that even deceived me. I can see
