Sickness comes over you, and binds you for weary days and nights,--in
which life hovers doubtfully, and the lips babble secrets that you
cherish. It is astonishing how disease clips a man from the
artificialities of the world! Lying lonely upon his bed, moaning,
writhing, suffering, his soul joins on to the universe of souls by only
natural bonds. The factitious ties of wealth, of place, of reputation,
vanish from his bleared eyes; and the earnest heart, deep under all,
craves only heartiness!
The old craving of the office silence comes back,--not with the proud
wish only of being a protector, but--of being protected. And whatever
may be the trust in that beneficent Power who "chasteneth whom he
loveth," there is yet an earnest, human yearning toward some one, whose
love--most, and whose duty--least, would call her to your side; whose
soft hands would cool the fever of yours, whose step would wake a throb
of joy, whose voice would tie you to life, and whose presence would make
the worst of Death--an Adieu!
As you gain strength once more, you go back to Nelly's home. Her
kindness does not falter; every care and attention belong to you there.
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