‘The poor lip
Just motions for a smile, and lets it go.’”
“Oct. 14.—Two terrible nights have we passed in trying to alleviate my dearest Lea’s great sufferings, but last night especially it was anguish to hear her moans and to be able to do so little: but I flit in and out, and whether it is day or night, am seldom many minutes away from her, and I think that is a comfort.”
“Oct. 15.—Last night was better, but all to-day she has been terribly ill. It is such a struggle to breathe through her worn-out frame. I sit constantly by her side, and chafe her hands and bathe her forehead, and can be quite cheerful for her sake; and she smiles to see me always there whenever she wakes. ‘Oh, how good you are to me,’ she said to-day. ‘I cannot be good enough to you, my own dearest Pettie, to you who have always been so very good to me.’
“But I feel, though no one tells me so, that I am sitting in the shadow of Death.”
“Monday, Oct. 16.—The doctor says she is sinking. She suffers less to-day, but is overwhelmed by the pressure on the lungs. I sit there—feed her—watch her, and smile.... I can do it for her sake. There will be time enough for grief when she cannot be grieved by it.
“She is all thankfulness,—only afraid of wearing us all out. ‘Thank Thee, O Lord, for my good victuals,’ she said, after taking her glassful of milk.
“Last night, waking from her sleep, she said, ‘Oh, I thought I was away and so very happy, and now I am come back to all this.’”
“Tuesday afternoon, Oct. 17.—She is still here—still suffering. Oh, my poor darling! what anguish it is to see her, and how thankful I shall be to God now when He will set her free. One can bear to part with one’s beloved ones, but their suffering tears one to pieces. How truly Heine says, ‘Der Tod ist nichts; aber das Sterben ist eine schändliche Erfindung.’”
“Wednesday, Oct. 19.—Yesterday morning there was agonising pain for three hours and then a respite. At 12 A.M. Hubert Beaumont walked in, having come off at once on hearing a hopeless account. He was much broken down at seeing his old friend so ill, but full of kindness and help for me and all of us.... All afternoon she was worse. Two doctors came.... At night she was terribly worse. Oh, it was so hard to see her suffer,—so very, very hard. Soon after midnight I gave dose after dose of laudanum, and when she was still, lay down—sank down, utterly worn-out. At 3 A.M. I heard Harriet’s voice, ‘Aunt is gone.’ All was still then—the agony lived through, the fight fought. As I rushed into the room, the colour was fading out of my darling Pettie’s cheeks, but her face and hands were still warm. A wonderful look of rest was stealing over the beloved features. I knelt down and said the bidding prayer. Truly we ‘gave thanks’ that our dearest one was at rest. Yet I felt—oh, so stunned, so helpless! Dear Hubert was a great comfort.
“All day we have sobbed at intervals. Many touching notes have come in; but I have felt dead in body and mind.”