"My good woman, what is all this about?" inquired the doctor. "Is not
my patient better?"
"Yes," cried she, drying her eyes; "but the whole scene puts me so in
mind of the last moments of my poor misguided son, that the very
sight of it goes through my heart like a knife. Oh! had my boy been
as good as that dear gentleman, had he been as well prepared to die,
I think I would scarcely have grieved! Yet Heaven spare Mr.
Constantine. Will he live?"
"I hope so, Mrs. Robson. His fever is high; but he is young, and with
extreme care we may preserve him."
"The Lord grant it!" cried she, "for he is the best gentleman I ever
beheld. He has been above a week with me; and till this night, in
which he lost his senses, though hardly able to breath or see, he has
read out of books which he brought with him; and good books too: for
it was but yesterday morning that I saw the dear soul sitting by the
fire with a book on the table, which he had been studying for an
hour. As I was dusting about, I saw him lay his head down on it, and
put his hand to his temples. 'Alas!, sir,' said I, 'you tease your
brains with these books of learning when you ought to be taking
rest.' No, Mrs. Robson,' returned he, with a sweet smile, 'it is this
book which brings me rest. I may amuse myself with others, but this
alone contains perfect beauty, perfect wisdom, and perfect peace.
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