Levy was in a weakly, nervous state, soon exhausted. He said it was nervous fever from which he suffered, and that the doctor told him he must have rest. In his absence from the room it was proposed to arrange that he might spend every Saturday and Sunday out of London. Mr. Dixon, the oculist, who was a member of the Committee, said he must be careful not to go too far, as in a weak state of health people suffered more than they gained by long railway journeys. Levy came back into the room and announced that nothing could be done or thought of till "the annual meeting" was over. There was a debt of £1400 hanging over the Institution, half of it trade debt, and half from customers who could not be got to pay ready money; and Levy announced that the loss of custom from the underground railway stopping access to the shop amounted to £20 a week.
Mrs. Powell concludes by saying:
I need not add that much sympathy and regret were expressed by the Committee at your continued weakness and suffering, and all hoped soon to see you there again. I know how anxious you must feel to be amongst them; but you will remember "your strength is now to sit still," until it can be said "Arise, He calleth thee." In patience you will possess your spirit. May God bless you at all times.
On the 13th of May the Bishop writes to give an account of the annual meeting held at St. James's Hall, and presided over by the Bishop of London.
Queen Anne Street, W., 13th May 1861.
My very dear Bessie—Ford [her maid] gives a most encouraging account of your progress and walking performances, and I can reciprocate with a capital one of this day's meeting. The room was quite full, galleries and all; 2067 were stated to be present. There were some donations, but I have not heard yet the amount of the collection.
It is clear to me the Association has now taken its footing in London and in the nation, and that with God's blessing it will go on and become a national Institution, and that you, my dear child, may humbly rejoice in it. I have not time for more.—Yr. ever affectionate father,
A. T. Cicestr.
Such a letter would greatly help forward Bessie's convalescence, which, though slow, was beginning to show signs of progress. In July a letter from Levy must have reassured her as to the state of his health, and it is interesting as the description of a blind man at a fire, with all his wits about him, and other blind men to help him.
127 Euston Road, 3d July 1861.
Dear Madam—Last night a fire of an alarming character broke out nearly opposite the Institution, and at one time our premises were placed in great danger, large masses of fire falling thickly over our premises for upwards of half an hour.
It is a matter of thankfulness that I was at home.
Our officers and other people hastened from their homes to our assistance. I caused the cocoa-matting to be taken from the floors, immersed in water, and spread over the roof, and every vessel capable of holding water was filled and passed from hand to hand in regular succession, so that the stream was continually kept up on all exposed parts.
The office books were tied in blankets ready to be carried away, but providentially the wind changed and we were relieved from anxiety. Four houses were destroyed or injured, but the only damage we have received is from the water, which is very slight—I am, dear madam, yours truly,
W. H. Levy.
During the early summer of 1861 a tent was set up in the garden at Chichester, to which Bessie was carried on all suitable days. She was happy with birds and trees and flowers around her, and received visits from many old and tried friends. Her recovery was very slow, but there was always sufficient progress to point to the ultimate restoration of health.
Throughout the year the workpeople sent affectionate greetings and appreciative verses to their generous friend and patron. Bessie resumed the occupations of her youth, and in the months of her enforced absence from London and the work of the Association she wrote long poems and gave her time to music and reading.
With a view to publication, she submitted some of her poems to her old friend, the Rev. H. Browne, asking for a candid opinion. He writes as follows: