“So far from having none but melancholy thoughts about you,” said Charles, “I have been drawing a very fine picture of your future usefulness and happiness, for your sisters’ consolation.”
“And did they believe you?”
“I hope so, for I am sure I said nothing unreasonable.”
“And did they all hear you?”
“No, only two of them that evening. Last night, however, I saw the whole party, and they were all well and happy, as I dare say they have told you themselves.”
“They have. When we get to our lodgings in the country next week, some of them will come to us. Much as I long to see them, I almost dread stirring.”
“O you will recover much faster when you are in quiet, and when you can go out every day. You can hardly feel here the delight of returning health. I know from experience that the first sight of the face of nature, in a season like this, after days and weeks of illness, is one of the most exquisite pleasures that life can afford.”
“I believe it,” said Monteath. “I expect to enjoy it much; though, with me, all cares will not be over when health returns. I have already made up my mind to every thing, however, and am determined to make the best of my lot. It is astonishing how soon one’s mind becomes reconciled to circumstances. At this hour, a fortnight ago, I should have shuddered at the very thoughts of what I have yet to go through: but I am pretty well reconciled to it now, and do not see why I should not be tolerably happy. To be sure, this fortnight has seemed longer than any year of my life before.”
“I do not see,” said Charles, “why you should not be very happy, when you have once got into the round of your occupations again. In the mean time you will meet with some painful circumstances no doubt; but then you have consolations which have supported you in a far worse trial than any you are likely to meet with again.”
“True; those consolations are worth any thing: it makes me quite ashamed to set my fears and troubles in opposition to such comforts.”