Her own People by B. M. Croker

The rains were unusually late, and continued unabated till to the end of September, with brief intervals of steamy heat. It was owing to this circumstance that the "new Miss Chandos," as she was called, was such a long time recovering her strength: in spite of her grandmother's unflagging attendance, she appeared to have arrived at a certain point of convalescence and there stuck fast. Sickness had brought an obliteration of her troubles, but she was still sunk in a gulf of weakness.

Mrs. Lopez plied her with her most potent remedies (she was acquainted with some of the subtle herbs and invaluable native secrets unknown to the European pharmacopœia), and several of her hitherto infallible charms, without any obvious result. The truth was that the old woman had to contend with the young girl's will -- Verona had no desire to recover. One afternoon as she lay in a sort of apathetic languor, listening to the rain streaming down the gutters, pouring on the stone verandah and beating on the big banana leaves with a steady "Drum, drum, drum," her Nani entered a little wet and out of breath, carrying some small object in her hand.