"What! always in tears," said she, carefully closing the door. "What pleasure it would give me to see you more cheerful! This constant repining will never do."
"The sight of you has made me feel better already," said I, wiping my eyes, and trying to force a smile. "M--- is away on a farm-hunting expedition, and I have been alone all day. Can you wonder, then, that I am so depressed? Memory is my worst companion; for by constantly recalling scenes of past happiness, she renders me discontented with the present, and hopeless of the future, and it will require all your kind sympathy to reconcile me to Canada."
"You will like it better by and by; a new country always improves upon acquaintance."
"Ah, never! Did I only consult my own feelings, I would be off by the next steam-boat for England; but then my husband, my child, our scanty means. Yes! yes! I must submit, but I find it a hard task."
"We have all our trials, Mrs. M---; and, to tell you the truth, I do not feel in the best spirits myself this afternoon. I came to ask you what I am certain you will consider a strange question."
This was said in a tone so unusually serious, that I looked up from the cradle in surprise, which her solemn aspect, and pale, tearful face, did not tend to diminish. Before I could ask the cause of her dejection, she added quickly--
"Dare you read a chapter from the Bible to a dying man?"
"Dare I? Yes, certainly! Who is ill? Who is dying?"
"It's a sad story," she continued, wiping the tears from her kind eyes. "I will tell you, however, what I know of it, just to satisfy you as to the propriety of my request. There is a poor young man in this house who is very sick--dying, I believe, of consumption. He came here about three weeks ago, without food, without money, and in a dreadfully emaciated state. He took our good landlord, Mr. S---, on one side, and told him how he was situated, and begged that he would give him something to eat and a night's lodging, promising that if ever he was restored to health, he would repay the debt in work. You know what a kind, humane man, Mr. S--- is, although," she added, with a sly smile, "he is a Yankee, and so am I by right of parentage, though not of birth. Mr. S--- saw at a glance that the suppliant was an object of real charity, and instantly complied with his request. Without asking further particulars, he gave him a good bed, sent him up a bowl of hot soup, and bade him not distress himself about the future, but try and get a good night's rest. The next day, the young man was too ill to leave his chamber. Mr. S--- sent for old Dr. Morton, who, after examining the lad, informed his employer that he was in the last stage of consumption, and had not many days to live, and it would be advisable for Mr. S--- to have him removed to the hospital (a pitiful shed erected for emigrants who may chance to arrive ill with the cholera). Mr. S--- not only refused to send the young man away, but has nursed him with the greatest care, his wife and daughters taking it by turns to sit up nightly with the poor patient."
My friend said nothing about her own attendance on the invalid, which, I afterwards learned from Mrs. S--- had been unremitting.