“Your hopes may be disappointed, Margaret. His is a very bad case; and, if he dies, Will Laud will be hanged.”
“Then you know all, sir? Oh, pray save him if you can, sir!”
“Who?”
“John Barry, sir,—John Barry.”
“Margaret, do you love him?”
“No, sir; yes—yes, sir. I think he is a very good young man, and he would be a great loss to his parents.”
“More so than to you, my girl?”
“Oh, yes, sir, yes. I’m sure I wish him well, and shall always feel grateful to him for his kindness to me. I do hope he will recover, sir, for Laud’s sake.”
This was enough; the doctor now knew all. He saw that his patient was in love with Margaret, but that Margaret loved another. He was in possession of the whole secret. He promised to do all he could; he dismissed the girl; and, after a few minutes’ further chat with the master and mistress of the house, and strongly advising them to send for Barry’s parents in the morning, he took his leave. His little bay pony soon rattled up Gainsborough’s Lane, through the open fields towards the Race-course, and over Bishop’s Hill, to the town of Ipswich.
Barry’s parents were not long in coming to their son, nor long in learning the real state both of his mind and body. It is the happiest time to die when a parent’s tender care is round you. Then the agony of suffering is greatly relieved, and the heart can open its most inward thoughts. It turns, with such filial respect and thankfulness, towards those whom it does not like to grieve, but who are always the most quick-sighted to see our wants and to relieve our distresses. So gentle is a mother’s love—so delicate, so soothing, so healing to the youthful mind, that nature almost decays with pleasure before her soft attentions. Nor is a father’s manliness and feeling less sensibly experienced at such a time. He may not have a woman’s gentleness, but he has a firmness and a quietness of action which are seldom seen at other times, and which make a sick room seem more calm and sufferable. He has quite as deep feeling, though it is more subdued. Who that ever has been ill in his youth, and has seen the kindness of parental love, but has thought that he never could die happier than when his fond parents were near him?