Over and above this, letters of sympathy
flowed in; grateful patients called to ask with tears in their eyes how
the doctor did; virtual strangers stopped the servant in the street with
the same query. Mary was sometimes quite overwhelmed by the kindness
people showed her.
The days that preceded the crisis were days of keenest anxiety. But Mary
never allowed her heart to fail her. For if, in the small things of
life, she was given to building on a mortal's good sense, how much more
could she rely at such a pass on the sense of the One above all others.
What she said to herself as she moved tirelessly about the sick room,
damping cloths, filling the ice-bag, infiltering drops of nourishment,
was: "God is good!" and these words, far from breathing a pious
resignation, voiced a confidence so bold that it bordered on
irreverence. Their real meaning was: Richard has still ever so much work
to do in the world, curing sick people and saving their lives. God must
know this, and cannot now mean to be so foolish as to WASTE him, by
letting him die.
And her reliance on the Almighty's far-sighted wisdom was justified.
Richard weathered the crisis, slowly revived to life and health; and the
day came when, laying a thin white hand on hers, he could whisper: "My
poor little wife, what a fright I must have given you!" And added: "I
think an illness of some kind was due--overdue--with me."
When he was well enough to bear the journey they left home for a
watering-place on the Bay.
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