The year 1818 opened with cheering prospects; but a cloud was gathering which was destined to cast a shadow over all these pleasant hopes. During the spring, Mrs. Lawrence was troubled with a cough, which became so obstinate at the beginning of the summer, that she was persuaded to remain at Groton for a short period, in order to try the benefit of country air. Mr. Lawrence writes to her, July 16:
"I am forcibly reminded of the blessings of wife, children, and friends, by the privation of wife and children; and, when at home, I really feel homesick and lonesome. Here I am, in two great rooms, almost alone; so you must prepare at a minute's notice to follow your husband."
She remained in the country for several weeks, and was summoned suddenly home by the alarming illness of her husband; the result of which, for a time, seemed very doubtful. After a season of intense anxiety and unremitted watchings at his bedside, Mrs. Lawrence was seized during the night with a hemorrhage from the lungs. This symptom, which so much alarmed her friends, was hailed by herself with joy, as she now had no wish to outlive her husband, whose life she had despaired of. Mr. Lawrence's recovery was slow; and, as soon as it was deemed prudent, he was sent to Groton to recruit his strength. He writes, under date of November 5, 1818:
"Dearest Sarah: We have heard of the fire on Tuesday evening, and hope the alarm has not impaired your health. I enjoy myself here as much as it is possible for any one to do under like circumstances: The idea of leaving the objects most dear to me, a wife and child sick, is too great a drawback upon my happiness to allow me as much quiet as is desirable. Yet I have great reason for thankfulness that I am at this time able to enjoy the society of friends, and that you are so comfortable as to give good reason to hope that the next season will restore to you a tolerable share of health."
Mrs. Lawrence writes, in reply to his letter:
"I have just received yours, and feel better to hear that you are so well. I hope that you will leave no means unimproved to regain health. Do not allow unreasonable fears on my account. I am as well as I was the week past; but we are uneasy mortals, and I do not improve as I could wish. You know me: therefore make all allowances. It is a cloudy day."
It soon became evident to all that the disease under which Mrs. Lawrence labored was a settled consumption, and that there could be little hope of recovery. To her mother Mr. Lawrence writes, Dec. 7:
"Since I last wrote to you, there has been no material change in Sarah's situation. She suffers less pain, and has more cheerful spirits than when you were here. She is very well apprised of her situation, and complains that those who are admitted to see her look so sorrowful, that it has a painful effect upon her feelings. She is desirous of being kept cheerful and happy; and, as far as I am capable of making her so, I do it. Yet I am a poor hand to attempt doing, with my feeble health, what is so foreign to my feelings. Although she is much more comfortable than she was, I cannot flatter myself that she is any better. She still retains a faint hope that she may be so; yet it is but a faint one. It takes much from my distress to see her so calm, and so resigned to the will of the Almighty. Although her attachments to life are as strong and as numerous as are the attachments of most, I believe the principle of resignation is stronger. She is a genuine disciple of Christ; and, if my children walk in her steps, they will all be gathered among the blest, and sing the song of the redeemed. Should it be the will of God that we be separated for a season, there is an animation in the hope that we shall meet again, purified from the grossness of the flesh, and never to be parted. 'God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.' I shall have, therefore, no more put upon me than I am able to bear; yet I know not how to bring my mind to part with so excellent a friend, and so good a counsellor."