And more than once, after quoting the words from Isaiah:—“Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones,” she added almost under her breath,
“I am not sure that that is not the finest thing in the whole Bible.”
But while she was one of those to whom the Old Testament makes perhaps a special appeal, it was not by accident that at the time of her death, and for years previously, the words were fixed above the mantelpiece, both in her study and in her bedroom,—“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
Some years before leaving Edinburgh, S. J.-B. had a heart attack which caused Dr. Balfour grave uneasiness, and, although she rallied in the course of a week, similar attacks kept recurring at considerable intervals. On one occasion at Windydene she was unconscious for several hours, and finally “came out of blackness” to ask with great calmness, “Well, what do you suppose has happened?”
Within a week of this attack she started for the Riviera.
It is probable that she never fully realized the seriousness of these cardiac signs and symptoms; but, in one way or another, death knocked at her door pretty frequently during those later years.
In 1901-2, she suffered from a mysterious and anomalous “growth,” for which a leading London surgeon refused to operate on the ground that she was a bad subject. She was not sorry for the refusal, but the enemy grew with appalling rapidity, and it became increasingly clear that something would have to be done. All through the period of uncertainty she went on with her life absolutely as usual. “I did wake up one night in a horror of great darkness,” she confessed, “wondering what was going to happen; but very soon Whittier’s words came into my mind:
“I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,