For Clarence, muttering ‘thank you,’ sank
out of his grasp on a chair, and as nearly as possible
fainted; but he was soon smiling and saying it was
all relief, and he felt as if a load he had been
bearing had been suddenly removed.
Frank Fordyce durst stay no longer, but laid his hand
on Clarence’s head and blessed him.
’For soon as once the genial plain
Has drunk the life-blood of the slain,
Indelible the spots remain,
And aye for vengeance call.’
Euripides—(Anstice).
Still all was not over, for by the next day our brother
was as ill, or worse, than ever. The doctor
who came from London allowed that he had expected
something of the kind, but thought we must have let
him exert himself perilously. Poor innocent
Martyn and Anne, they little suspected that their
bright eyes and happy voices had something to do
with the struggle and disappointment, which probably
was one cause of the collapse. As to poor Frank
Fordyce, I never saw him so distressed; he felt as
if it were all his own fault, or that of his ancestors,
and, whenever he was not required by his duties,
was lingering about for news. I had little hope,
though Clarence seemed to me the very light of my
eyes; it was to me as though, his task being accomplished,
and the earthly reward denied, he must be on his
way to the higher one.
His complete quiescence confirmed me in the assurance
that he thought so himself. He was too ill
for speech, but Lawrence, who could not stay away,
was struck with the difference from former times.
Not only were there no delusions, but there was no
anxiety or uneasiness, as there had always been in
the former attacks, when he was evidently eager to
live, and still more solicitous to be told if he
were in a hopeless state. Now he had plainly
resigned himself -
‘Content to live, but not afraid to die;’
and perhaps, dear fellow, it was chiefly for my sake
that he was willing to live. At least, I know
that when the worst was over, he announced it by
putting those wasted fingers into mine, and saying
—
’Well, dear old fellow, I believe we shall jog
on together, after all.’
That attack, though the most severe of all, brought,
either owing to skilful treatment or to his own calm,
the removal of the mischief, and the beginning of
real recovery. Previously he had given himself
no time, but had hurried on to exertions which retarded
his cure, so as very nearly to be fatal; but he was
now perfectly submissive to whatever physicians or
nurses desired, and did not seem to find his slow
convalescence in the least tedious, since he was amongst
us all again.
