by the death, a few years before, of her two beautiful children just at the dawn of manhood and womanhood, and the fatal malady consumption met with no resistance.  Day by day she faded away, the physician holding out no hope from the first.  Her mother, now eighty years of age, was completely crushed; the sister Mary was principal of one of the city schools and busy all day, and Miss Anthony felt it her imperative duty to remain beside the invalid, even could she have overcome her grief sufficiently to appear in public.  Invitations to lecture came to her from many points but she refused them and remained by the gentle sufferer day and night.[76] At daybreak on November 9 the loved one passed away, and the tender hands of sisters and of the only daughter performed the last ministrations.[77]

With Miss Anthony the love of family was especially intense as she had formed no outside ties, and the parents, the brothers and sisters filled her world of affection.  The sundering of these bonds wrenched her very heartstrings and upon every recurring anniversary the anguish broke forth afresh, scarcely assuaged by the lapse of years.  A short time after this last sorrow she writes: 

MY DEAR MOTHER:  How continually, except the one hour when I am on the platform, is the thought of you and your loss and my own with me!  How little we realize the constant presence in our minds of our loved and loving ones until they are forever gone.  We would not call them back to endure again their suffering, but we can not help wishing they might have been spared to us in health and vigor.  Our Guelma, does she look down upon us, does she still live, and shall we all live again and know each other, and work together and love and enjoy one another?  In spite of instinct, in spite of faith, these questions will come up again and again....  She said you would soon follow her, and we know that in the nature of things it must be so.  When that time comes, dear mother, may you fall asleep as sweetly and softly as did your eldest born; and as the sands of life ebb out into the great eternal, may all of us be with you to make the way easy.  It does seem too cruel that every one of us must be so overwhelmingly immersed in work, but may the Good Father help us so to do that there may be no vain regrets for things done or left undone when the last hour comes.

A beautiful incident cast a flood of light through the heavy shadows of this trying year, and made November 27 in truth a day of Thanksgiving for one brave woman.  At his urgent invitation, Miss Anthony had spent it in the home of her cousin, Anson Laphain, at Skaneateles.  After a pleasant day, as she sat quietly and sadly by the window, watching the deepening twilight, the noble-hearted cousin took from his desk her notes for $4,000, which he had so generously loaned her during the stormy days of The Revolution, cancelled all and presented them to her.  She was overwhelmed with surprise and when she attempted to express her gratitude, he stopped her with words of respect, confidence and encouragement which seemed to roll away a stone from her heart and in its place put new hope, ambition and strength.