"Let us be patient. These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
"We see but dimly through the mists and vapours
Amid these earthly damps
What seems to us but sad funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps."
There were morning prayers before the hurried breakfast, which was interspersed with
numerous directions about what was to be done for Mrs. Lyddell, and what letters were to
be sent after Mr. Lyddell. Lionel was grave and silent, as became one whose fate was in
the balance, without either shrinking or bravado; but somewhat as if he was more
inclined, than had been the case last night, to hope for a favorable result. With heartfelt
prayers did Marian watch him as be crossed the hall and entered the carriage, calling out
a cheerful good-bye,--prayers that, if it were the will of Heaven, his affliction might be
removed; but that if not, help might be given him to turn it into a blessing, as he seemed
almost to be beginning to do. His father, too,--little had Marian ever thought to feel for
him the affectionate compassion and sympathy, of which she was now sensible, as she
responded to his kind, fatherly farewell, and thought of what he must be feeling; obliged
to leave his wife in so anxious and suffering a state; his daughter, the pride of the family,
removed so suddenly; his most promising son probably blind for life; his eldest, a grief,
pain, and shame to them all. Marian must pray for him too, that he might be supported
and aided through these most bitter trials, and that the work which they had begun in him
might go on and be perfected; that these troubles, grievous as they were, might in his ease
also turn to blessings.
The occupation of the two girls was all day the care of Mrs. Lyddell. She was not worse,
as far as bodily ailments went; the attack of cold, brought on by leaving her room to
attend on Caroline, had gone off, and her strength was in some degree returning; but she
was restless, excited, irritable, and with an inability to restrain herself, that was more
alarming than Marian liked to own to herself, far less to Clara.
She insisted on getting up at an earlier hour than she had hitherto attempted; she was
worn out and wearied with dressing; she was impatient and vexed with Clara, for some
mistake about her pillows; and the trembling of her hand, as she was eating some broth,
was uncontrollable. The broth was not what she liked, and she would send for the
housekeeper, to reprove her about it; asked questions about the arrangements, found them
not as she wished; spoke sharply, said no one took heed to anything while she was ill, and
