Miss Holmes, as the reader has already been informed, had suffered much in her health, by the unfortunate marriage of her sister Emma; but her visit to Lynnbridge had contributed greatly to her improvement, and her parents now fondly hoped that she was in a fair way of recovery. Shortly after the death of Mrs. Kent, however, she experienced a return of her former alarming symptoms, and an eminent physician was consulted, whose opinion, though rather reservedly given, was not of a very hopeful nature. Conscious herself of the extreme delicacy of her constitution, and apprehensive that she had not long to live, she now prudently declined an advantageous offer of marriage which she had received. Her suitor was Mr. Alfred Reed, the only son of an intimate friend of her father's; a young man, about her own age, decidedly pious, and who was likely to come into the possession of a large fortune. He had been bred to mercantile pursuits, but eventually decided on entering the Church. His father opposed his inclination, till, being fully convinced that he was actuated by proper motives, he cordially gave his consent. He had passed through his examinations at Cambridge with great distinction, and was now spending the vacation at home, preparatory to taking orders. His person, his manners, and his profession combined to render him an acceptable suitor to Miss Holmes, who united in her character the varied excellencies which are necessary to qualify a female to fill the important station of a clergyman's wife. She was intelligent, amiable, discreet, and zealous in the cause of religion and benevolence, without the smallest tincture of ostentatious display. Her sense of duty, however, would not permit her, in her present state of health, to contract a union which might speedily be dissolved, and involve her husband in much perplexity and grief.
By the advice of her medical man, she was induced again to try a change of air as the best means of arresting the progress of her disorder. After much deliberation it was decided to go to Dawlish in Devonshire, both because they had so much enjoyed their former visits there, and Louisa preferred its retirement to the noise and gaiety of a more fashionable watering-place. Mr. Reed, who still continued faithful in his attentions to her, notwithstanding her refusal of his offer, and still cherished the hope of his proposals being accepted, on Miss Holmes' restoration to health, was allowed, at his earnest request, to form one of the party. He accordingly set out first, to secure a suitable lodging, and it was no small gratification to the family when they found he had taken the same house which they had occupied some years before. As they had travelled by easy stages, and had been favoured with pleasant weather, Miss Holmes appeared much better on her arrival at Dawlish than when she left the Elms; and she continued to improve so rapidly, that all began to anticipate her entire convalescence. Her spirits, which had at times been deeply depressed, soon rose to the level of her accustomed cheerfulness; and though the hectic flush occasionally added fresh beauty to the sweetness of her countenance, yet, as it did not return so often, nor appear so deeply tinged by the florid hue as formerly, it did not occasion any alarm. On returning from a lovely walk, as they passed the little chapel which benevolence raised for the accommodation of the Christian pilgrim, who thirsts for the pure water of life, she facetiously remarked, addressing herself to Mr. Reed, "I presume, Sir, we cannot calculate on your accompanying us to-morrow to this unadorned house of prayer."
"Why not, Miss Holmes?"
"Of course, Sir, your clerical profession will lead you elsewhere!"
"I am happy to say, that I am not ashamed to go to offer up my sacrifice of prayer and of praise in any place in which the God of salvation will condescend to accept it. I prefer the village church to the village chapel, most certainly; but, as I have no wish to become a dissenter, I shall conform to the religious customs of the party during our visit."
"A clergyman in a Dissenting chapel! The last wonder! Of course, we must all be sworn to secrecy, and keep our pledge, or no bishop will ordain you."
There is no indisposition under which the human frame labours that assumes such a deceptive appearance as a consumption. In its early stages it will often work so insidiously on the constitution, that its subject is unconscious of its presence; and even, when it has advanced to a very considerable extent, there are generally those intervals of vigour and vivacity, that occasion sanguine expectations of a recovery to be entertained even to the last. And it is during these seasons, when the animal spirits return with great force—giving a degree of energy and activity which is regarded as an unequivocal proof of restored health, that exertions are made by walking and by visiting, which often accelerate the fatal issue. To confine to the house the invalid, who longs to breathe the fresh air, or to keep her out of company, when the pleasures of social intercourse relieve the spirits from languor, is a task which the kindness of friendship cannot always perform; and hence she is often permitted to run the risk of shortening her life by efforts which exhaust her strength; or by exposures to the keen night air, which give a fresh impetus to the disease. It was during one of these intervals of renewed strength that Miss Holmes was induced to pay a visit to a family, who resided about two miles off; and though her father proposed to take her in a carriage, she preferred walking. She reached her friends' house without feeling fatigued; after dinner enjoyed a ramble in the country; and then, having taken tea, returned to Dawlish. It was a pleasant evening, but the air was rather cold; and though she bore the exertions of the day with great cheerfulness, yet before she got home she began to feel exhausted. On entering the drawing-room, she threw herself on the sofa, and said, "I fear I have gone beyond my strength." After resting herself some time, she retired for the night; but when she awoke in the morning, instead of rising at her usual hour, she requested to have her breakfast in bed. At noon she made her appearance amongst the family, in apparently good spirits; but her mother, who had watched the progress of her disorder with deep anxiety, felt alarmed on seeing the hectic flush on her cheek, accompanied by an occasional cough. Towards the evening the height of her pulse was considerably increased; the palms of her hands became dry and hot, and she complained of being chilly. These symptoms excited fresh alarm; yet, as they came on immediately after the fatigue of a long day's excursion, her friends flattered themselves that they would go off when she had taken another night's rest; but in this they were disappointed. On the following morning they assumed a more threatening aspect; her cough became more troublesome, the pain in her side returned, and though she appeared cheerful, yet it was accompanied by an unusual gravity of look and manner. At length it was judged expedient to call in a medical man, who prescribed some medicines that afforded her a little temporary relief. When asked for his opinion, he said, "I do not despair of her recovery, though she must be very cautious. She must not exert herself beyond her strength, nor yet expose herself to the night air." The following letter, written to her friend Miss Martin, whom the reader will remember accompanying Miss Holmes to call on Mrs. Kent,[30] exhibits the state of her mind at this critical period:—
"My dear Mary,—An all-wise Providence has been pleased to guide my steps once more to Dawlish, where we expect to spend a few months. In revisiting it again, I naturally advert to that period of my life when I was living in a state of alienation from God—devoted to the pleasures and vanities of the world. Happy should I now be to ramble with you through this beautiful country, and talk of Him who lived and died for sinners; but, as that pleasure is denied me, I will converse with you through a more circuitous medium. You are aware that our journey here is mainly on my account. On my arrival I grew much better, and continued for some weeks to improve in my general health; but a short time ago I caught a severe cold, and have never been well since. Though my friends still cling to hope, as the sinking mariner hangs on the broken plank of the vessel, till the returning wave comes to drive him off, I am now very apprehensive as to the result. I know that my heavenly Father can lengthen out the thread of my life, and restore to full vigorous health the constitution which disease is gradually wasting away; but I think He is about to remove me. It costs, indeed, a hard struggle to view with composure the approach of death at my age, and nothing could reconcile me to it but the hope of immortality by which I feel animated and sustained. My Alfred is with me, and his kind attentions often depress me. He is still anticipating the day when he shall lead me to the altar; but alas! fond youth, I am marked out as a victim for the grave! Yes! and though I still feel I love him, yet I must give him up, and all the prospects which open before me on this side the tomb, to go and dwell with Him whom unseen I love! But 'thy will, O my Father, be done!'
"Though I have received the sentence of death, I do not expect that it will be executed speedily. No! I shall not be taken till all are prepared to resign me; and till every tie is loosened which now fastens my affections to 'things seen and temporal.' This is a kind provision which our heavenly Father usually makes to afford some alleviation to the sorrow of surviving friends; and to enable his children to retire from this vale of life, without retaining any lingering desires for a longer continuance in it.
"I have hitherto concealed from the eyes of others the most alarming symptoms of my complaint, nor have I yet given them an intimation of my own opinion; as I do not feel inclined to be at present the bearer of such heavy tidings. They still try to amuse me with the visions of futurity, and talk of my marriage with Alfred, and all its attendant circumstances, as if length of days was appointed for me: and though I feel conscious that a few months, unless a miracle of mercy prevent, will change the theme of social discourse, yet I cannot bring my mind to the severe trial of attempting to banish these fond hopes and anticipations from others.
"I am happy to inform you that my dear sister Emma is become decidedly pious. Her severe afflictions have had a salutary effect; and now, being purified and softened by their influence, she exhibits the features of the Christian character in all their attractive loveliness. Her natural volatility and satirical humour are now transformed to chastened vivacity and the sportive sallies of innocent wit.
"I need not say how much I should enjoy your company at Dawlish, if you could make it convenient to pay us a visit; but as that is too great an indulgence for me to expect, you will not refuse me the gratification of hearing from you as soon as possible. All here join me in kindest love to you, and your Papa and Mamma, who, I trust, are both enjoying their usual good health.—I am, yours most affectionately,
Louisa."
To this letter Miss Martin returned the following reply:—