Brandon of the Engineers by Harold Bindloss

For a week the stagnant heat brooded over Santa Brigida, sucking up the citizens' energy and leaving limp depression. Steaming showers that broke at intervals filled the air with an enervating damp, and the nights were worse than the days. No draught crept through the slits of windows into the darkened houses, and the musty smell that characterizes old Spanish cities gathered in the patios and sweltering rooms.

This reacted upon Dick, who had a bad relapse, and for some days caused his nurses grave anxiety. There was sickness in the town and the doctor could spare but little time to him, the nursing sister was occupied, and Dick was, for the most part, left to Clare and Lucille. They did what they could; the girl with pitiful tenderness, the mulatto woman with patience and some skill, but Dick did not know until afterwards that, in a measure, he owed his life to them. Youth, however, was on his side, the delirium left him, and after lying for a day or two in half-conscious stupor, he came back to his senses, weak but with unclouded mind. He knew he was getting better and his recovery would not be long, but his satisfaction was marred by keen bitterness. Clare had stolen his papers and ruined him.