And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.”
I couldn’t see the rainbow just then.
Nevertheless, I got to love that room as one of the happiest spots on earth, for the sake of the people whom I found there; and during the ten weeks I remained in it, I proved beyond all chance of further doubt that when God seems to be taking from us, He is in reality giving us something better than all we could ever ask or think. At the moment of the taking, perhaps, our eyes are too dimmed to see this, but in the fulfilment of time, when He wipes away our tears, may it not be that, in addition to banishing our sorrows, He will clear our vision, that we may see how marvellously He made all things work together for good?
Next day I remarked, irritably, that I didn’t like the green walls, and I thought the green bedspread positively bilious.
The matron, looking at me with a twinkle in her eyes, said, “Dear lady, you shall have another bedspread this instant; and as soon as you are well enough to be moved, we will re-paint the walls whatever colour meets with your approval;—we can’t do it while you are in bed, can we? Meanwhile, I shall call you ‘Delicate Fuss’!”
(And “Delicate Fuss” I have remained ever since.)
But there was such an amount of misery bottled up inside me, some of it was obliged to spill over, and I once more reiterated my desire to die.
“That’s all right,” said the matron cheerfully; “but how about your tombstone? You would like a really artistic one, wouldn’t you? And being literary, surely you would wish to edit what is to go on it. Now let us see what we can scheme out.”