What a fool I was not to have thought of this before!
As soon as Dr. Han Sen has had time to get clear of the garden, I hasten off down into Nagasaki, leaving Mousmé, who is evidently sleeping now, in charge of Oka’s wife.
I am going to get the European doctor of the mail-boat to come and see her.
“Why did not I think of this before?” I ask myself as I hasten over the roughly paved roadway down the hill-side towards the harbour. Ah! why, indeed, not?
Mousmé was very ill, and at one time I watched beside her day and night, fearing every hour, nay, almost every moment, lest the frail thread of life should be snapped, and the sun of my happiness go down with that of her life.
My friend M’Phail, the cheery doctor of the mail-boat, was most untiring in his attendance; and at last I think professional
