And Mr. Townsend drew forth a letter and read:
“I regret to inform you that your son, Mr. John Townsend, has been quite ill for several days with a violent fever. He has desired me not to write to you, lest you should be unnecessarily alarmed, but I have felt it to be my duty to act contrary to his wishes. I have just seen the doctor, who says I ought to inform you of your son’s illness. He does not answer any of my inquiries satisfactorily, which makes me fear that the case is dangerous. I will write you to-morrow, and every day, until there is some change.”
“Mercy!” exclaimed the mother, striking her hands together, and bursting into tears. “It is the yellow fever!”
“I fear it is,” replied Mr. Townsend, striving to keep his feelings under control. “The sickly season has commenced earlier than usual, and before John could make his arrangements to come north.”
Oh! how anxiously did that family wait, for the next twenty-four hours, the arrival of another mail from New Orleans! Mrs. Townsend and her daughter did little but weep all the time, and Mr. Townsend in vain attempted to fix his mind upon business. Long before the southern mail could be assorted, he was at the post-office; and when the window was thrown open, his face was the first one presented to the clerk. He received a package of letters, and hastily retired. One bore the New Orleans post mark. All the rest were hurriedly thrust into his pocket. Breaking the seal of this, with trembling hands, he read—
“Your son is no better. All last night he was delirious under the raging violence of the fever. The doctors say but little. I have deemed it right to call in additional medical aid. Rest assured, sir, that all shall be done that medicine and careful attention can accomplish. I was with him all last night, and shall remain constantly by his side. All that human power can do shall be done; the result is with Him in whose hands are the issues of life.”
The whole letter, up to the last sentence, deeply agitated Mr. Townsend; but that sentence, like a knell of doom, subdued the wild struggles of human passion, and crushed all suddenly down into hopelessness. He had already discovered that there was a Power above the human will, and a Disposer of events against whose designs human prudence was nothing; and he felt that into the hands of this higher Power he had come, with his very household treasures as well as his worldly wealth, and that these, too, or a part of these, were to be taken away. Thus, the very words meant to suggest confidence and resignation, destroyed the balance of his mind, and overwhelmed it with the thickest clouds.
At home, he found an anxious and agitated circle awaiting him.
“He is no better,” he said, as he entered the room where his wife and daughter were sitting.
Tears followed the announcement, that were renewed when the letter he had received was read.