“None the worse, but much the better,” said she cheerfully. And then she paused to consider whether it would be wise to say more.
“It will hurt him, but it may help him as well,” she thought; and then she said aloud:
“I am far stronger than I was when I came here, and in better health every way. I may tell you now, since it is over, that all the last summer I was afraid—ay, sore afraid, of what might be before me. But I had a few words with Dr Fleming about myself, and he bade me put away my fears, for I had mistaken my trouble altogether. It was a great relief to my mind, and he helped my body as well. I am a stronger woman to-day than I ever thought to be.”
John, remembering the lingering illness of an aunt, knew or guessed what her fear had been, and he grew white as he met her eyes.
“Are you sure, mother,” said he hoarsely, “that you are now safe from all fear?”
“As sure as the word of a skillful doctor and honest man can make me. Yes, I think I may say I have no fear now.”
“And you kept this dread to yourself! Oh! mother! mother!” said John, covering his face with his hands.
She had been enduring this trial—this great dread, in one way worse to meet than suffering itself would have been; while he, full of himself and his own plans and disappointments, had been taking no heed.
“I have great reason to be thankful,” said Mrs Beaton softly; “and, John lad, what could I do, but keep my fears to myself till I was quite sure? You had your own trouble to bear, as I could well see, and it would have made mine none the less to add to your pain.”
“Oh! mother! mother!” was all her son could say.