When I went back to the sick room, however, and saw the pale, haggard countenance, the sunken eyes, and heard the labored breath, my heart sunk within me, as I realized that he would soon pass from my sight, without one parting word, one farewell kiss. As I stood gazing at him, the inspired passage occurred to me, "In whose hands our breath is, and whose are all our ways." I then remembered that God had power to restore the emaciated form before me, to new life and vigor. The thought that it might be his will to give my husband back to me, even from the borders of the grave, sent the warm blood throbbing through me. I again poured out my heart in prayer to God, not for myself, but for the life of my husband. I renewedly dedicated him to God. I cried out, "Oh! my heavenly Father, give me his life."
Dear mother also was besieging the throne of grace in his behalf. But he lay unconscious of the agonized hearts throbbing near him, anxiously watching every breath he drew.
Dr. Clapp was to be with him through Monday night. Mother besought me to try to sleep. I wondered if she thought I could ever sleep again? But I only shook my head. The crisis was rapidly approaching. I saw that not a sigh, or a groan escaped the notice of our kind physician; but I was calm. I even wondered at myself. A strong, but invisible arm was put round about me to strengthen me, and I leaned upon it to sustain my drooping spirit. The night passed slowly away, the morning began to dawn; not a word had been spoken for the past hour. Dr. Clapp sat with his fingers upon the wrist of his patient, where he could scarce feel the fluttering pulse. Ever and anon he would take the candle from the table, hold it before the face of the pale sufferer, and then silently shade it again.
At length he arose, and putting his fingers upon his lips, to enjoin perfect silence, he withdrew from the room. Nothing could be heard but the ticking of the watch and our own loud breathing. It seemed a long, long time that the Doctor was absent, and when he came in, I saw he had been weeping. In an agony of grief my very soul yearned for one more look, one more word of love. I hardly dared to uncover my face. When I did so, the Doctor was wetting his patient's lips with a sponge. Then he sat down again, with his fingers upon the pulse.
What had come over the man? I wiped my eyes to see clearer. His whole face was lit up with an expression, to which it had for many days been a stranger; but I dared not hope. Again and again the sponge was dipped in the cup and applied to the parched lips, and still we sat, as though we had no tongues, or knew not how to use them, when feeling that I could not breathe, I silently arose and left the room. The kind watcher followed, and leading me down stairs to the library, shut the door, and in a husky voice said, "My dear Mrs. Lenox, the crisis has passed, and your husband still lives."
I started from my chair. "Compose yourself, my dear lady," he continued. "There is hope that he may recover," and our sympathizing friend wept tears of joy.
But for me the reaction was too great. I felt myself falling to the floor. When I recovered Pauline was bathing my temples. Dr. Clapp had left the room and returned to his patient. I speedily recovered and followed him, and was softly stepping toward the bed where mother sat holding her beloved son by the hand. But the physician saw me and motioned me back. I withdrew into the hall, where he soon joined me, and leading me away from the door, said, "Your husband is now conscious, and will recognize you. Can you compose yourself? The least excitement may be fatal to him."
After a moment, in which I tried to hush the loud beating of my heart, and to breathe a prayer for strength, I said, "I think I can," and we again entered the room. I walked silently to the bed, and looked at my darling Frank. His eyes were closed and his face closely resembled death; but when he feebly opened his eyes, the light of reason beamed thence, and he knew me. I kissed his forehead and almost flew from the room. My heart was filled with the most delightful emotions of gratitude and joy, "and though my voice was silent, being stopped by the intenseness of what I felt, yet my soul sung within me and even leaped for joy." The emotion was so intense as to be nearly allied to pain. I pressed my hand to my heart to keep it from bursting. I heard a gentle step, and my sweet Pauline sat by my side, and drawing my head to her breast, sought to soothe my agitated feelings. She had been weeping. "Dear mamma," she whispered, "I am so happy, I have been trying to thank God for making dear father better."
"My love," said I, "will you thank our heavenly Father for me?" As we sat, she breathed out her heart to God like one who was used to going to him, as to a tender father. I pressed her to me and thanked God for so great a treasure.
Wednesday, September 4th.