FAILING HEALTH OF CLARA'S MOTHER.
I soon had a far more serious cause for disquiet than the remarks of
Mrs. Kingsley or any one else could have occasioned. I had many times
during the past year feared that my mother's health was failing. She
looked thin and pale, and seemed to lack her usual activity in
performing her household duties. I frequently enquired if she were ill,
and she had ever replied that she was quite well; only it might be a
little fatigued. But the truth could no longer be concealed. My mother
was ill, and that seriously. She still attended to her daily
occupations, but she was greatly changed; she seemed during the past few
weeks to have grown thin almost to attenuation. She was very pale,
except at times there was a feverish glow upon her cheeks. I was then
too young to detect, as I should now do, the insidious approach of that
foe to human life, consumption. Going one day to visit my mother, I was
so struck by the change so visible in her countenance, I privately asked
Aunt Patience if she did not feel alarmed for my mother? She burst into
tears, and was for some time unable to reply. I had never before seen
Aunt Patience so much affected. I begged of her to tell me if there was
any real cause for alarm, for I had hoped she would be able to dispel
all my fears in regard to my mother. Regaining her composure, she told
me that consumption was hereditary in my mother's family. I had never
before chanced to hear it mentioned, but Aunt Patience now informed me
that several of the family had fallen victims to that disease, and that
she feared it had already fastened upon my mother.
"I am glad," she said, "that you have spoken to me upon the subject. I
have long wished to make known my feelings to you, but I shrank from
giving you pain. I have been unable to persuade your mother to call a
physician. She imagines herself better; but I can see but too plainly
that such is not the case."
I forebore mentioning the subject to my mother at that time; indeed I
could not have done so. I was now thoroughly alarmed--almost terrified,
and it was with a heavy heart that I returned to the dwelling of Mrs.
Leighton.
I had frequently spoken to Mrs. Leighton of my mother's failing health,
and I now felt it my duty to resign my position as governess, for a time
at least, and return to my mother, that she might be relieved from all
care. When I returned to Mrs. Leighton's on the evening in question, I
again spoke to her upon the subject, saying that I feared I should be
obliged to resign my situation in her family and return to my mother,
who evidently needed my attention. Mrs. Leighton expressed much sympathy
for me in my trouble, saying that I ought by all means to hasten to my
mother; but added that she did not wish me to resign my position, as she
was willing to wait for me for any length of time I might find it
necessary to remain at home. She said, further, that Laura would be
quite willing to give some attention to the children during my absence;
and she tried to cheer me up, saying that she trusted my mother would
soon be better. I too tried to be hopeful, but the impression that my
mother was to die had taken deep hold of my mind.
I visited my mother the next evening, and, to avoid surprising her by
suddenly returning home, I informed her that I intended spending a few
weeks at home, as I needed rest from teaching, and that Laura would
attend to the children during the time I should remain at home. My
mother seemed so cheerful that evening that I began to hope that I might
have been too much alarmed; but, when I had opportunity for speaking
privately with Aunt Patience, her words confirmed my worst fears. She
informed me that at her earnest solicitation my mother had that day
summoned a physician; that he had prescribed some medicine for her, and
given her some advice in regard to diet, walking or riding in the open
air, &c. She further informed me that she had herself spoken privately
to the physician, requesting him to tell her candidly what he thought of
my mother's case. He replied,--
"As you have asked me a plain question, I think it my duty to give you a
candid answer. I know not," continued the physician, "how it might have
been had I been called six months ago, but now I fear the case of Mrs.
Roscom is beyond the reach of medicine. I will gladly do my utmost for
her, but I fear that a few months, it may be a few weeks, will terminate
her life."
This was _fearful_ tidings to me, as I had strongly hoped that the
opinion of the physician would have been more favorable. When I became
outwardly composed, I rejoined my mother, in company with Aunt Patience.
My mother was not aware that Aunt Patience had held any conversation
with the physician regarding her illness. She seemed much pleased at the
prospect of my return home. I informed her, before leaving, that she
might expect my return in the course of two or three days.
She failed rapidly from this time; and, shortly after I returned to my
home, was obliged to give up all employment, however light. We often
reminded her of the physician's wish, that she should walk in the open
air; but it was seldom she felt equal to the task of walking even a
short distance.
Mrs. Leighton and Laura often called, and brought many little
delicacies to tempt the appetite of my invalid mother. Mrs. Leighton
told my mother that she would be happy to send her carriage as often as
she felt strong to ride out. My mother replied that on fine days she
would gladly avail herself of her kind offer; and, so as long as my
mother was able, the carriage was sent every fine day to give her the
benefit of a short ride in the open air.
I presume that, on ordinary occasions, I should have felt some
embarrassment in receiving a visit from Mrs. Leighton and Laura in my
home, which appeared so humble, compared to their own elegant residence;
but now it never cost me a thought, for, in the presence of a great
sorrow, all trifling considerations vanish away.
It was in the month of May that I returned home, and by the last of June
my mother was entirely confined to her room, and much of the time to her
bed. She suffered much from nervous restlessness, and at times her cough
was very distressing. She would allow no one, as yet, to sit with her
during the night, but I gained her consent that I might sleep on a
lounge which stood in her room.
There was no end to the kindness we received from the Leightons; no day
passed without some one of the family calling to enquire for my mother.
Soon after this time my mother appeared much better. She was able to sit
up more than formerly, and her cough was far less troublesome. I
remember one day saying to Aunt Patience, when we chanced to be alone,
that I began to think my mother would yet recover, she seemed so much
better.
"My dear Clara," she replied, "I hope your mother may recover; but you
must not build hopes which I fear will never be realised. This seeming
change for the better is only one of these deceitful turns of her
disease by which so many are deceived. I do not wish to alarm you
needlessly, but I dare not cherish any hopes of her recovery."
The idea that my mother would die had been impressed upon my mind from
the first; yet, when I observed her improved appearance, I thought that
the physician, as well as ourselves, might have been deceived.