I've been hard on him,
but it will all be right now. God Almighty bless him!'
That was the only formal blessing she left among us. Indeed, the
last time I saw her was with an ordinary good-night at the foot of
the stairs. Emily said she was glad that I had not to carry with me
the remembrance of those paroxysms of suffering. My dear Emily had
alone the whole force of that trial--or shall I call it privilege?
Martyn did not reach home till some hours after all was over, poor
boy.
And in the midst of our desolateness, just as we had let the
daylight in again upon our diminished numbers round the table, came
a letter from Hong-Kong, addressed to me in Lawrence Frith's
writing, and the first thing I saw was a scrawl, as follows:-
'DEAREST TED--All is in your hands. You can do IT. God bless you
all. W. C. W.'
When I came to myself, and could see and hear, Martyn was impressing
on me that where there is life there is hope, though indeed,
according to poor Lawrence's letter, there was little of either. He
feared our hearing indirectly, and therefore wrote to prepare us.
He had been summoned to Hong-Kong to find Clarence lying desperately
ill, for the most part semi-delirious, holding converse with
invisible forms, or entreating some one to let him alone--he had
done his best. In one of his more lucid intervals he had made
Lawrence find that note in a case that lay near him, and promise to
send it; and he had tried to send some messages, but they had become
confused, and he was too weak to speak further.
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