“You needs it more, Miss Anna, though you don’t think so now. I can take care of myself. Unless you drive me away, I shan’t go until God’s will be done, for life or death.”
Miss Janet often laid down and slept for an hour or two, and returned refreshed to the sick chamber. Her voice retained its cheerfulness and kept Mrs. Weston’s heart from failing. “Hope on, Anna,” she would say, “as long as she breathes we must not give her up; how many have been thought entirely gone, and then revived. We must hope, and God will do the rest.”
This “hoping on” was one great cause of Cousin Janet’s usefulness during a long life; religion and reason alike demand it of us. Many grand and noble actions have been done in the world, that never could have been accomplished without hoping on. When we become discouraged, how heavy the task before us; it is like drooping the eyes, and feebly putting forth the hands to find the way, when all appears to us darkness; but let the eye be lifted and the heart hope on, and there is found a glimmering of light which enables the trembling one to penetrate the gloom. Alice’s symptoms had been so violent from the first, her disease had progressed so rapidly, that her condition was almost hopeless; ere Mr. Weston thought of the propriety of informing Arthur of her condition. The first time it occurred to him, he felt convinced that he ought not to delay. He knew that Arthur never could be consoled, if Alice, his dearly loved, his affianced wife, should die without his having the consolation of a parting word or look. He asked Cousin Janet her opinion.
She recalled all that had passed previous to Alice’s illness. As she looked into Mr. Weston’s grieved and honest face, the question suggested itself,—Is it right thus, to keep him in ignorance? She only wavered a moment. Already the traces of agitation caused by his niece’s illness, were visible in his flushed face and nervous frame; what then might be the result of laying before him a subject in which his happiness was so nearly concerned? Besides, she felt convinced that even should Alice improve, the suffering which had been one cause of her sickness, might be renewed with double force if suggested by Arthur’s presence.
“I know, my dear cousin,” she said, “it will be a terrible grief to Arthur, should Alice be taken from us, yet I think you had better not write. Dr. Lawton says, that a very short time must decide her case; and were the worst we fear to occur, Arthur could not reach here in time to see her with any satisfaction. If he lose her, it will probably be better for him to remember her in health and beauty.”