She could smile while racking
pains tortured her frame, while her frail body seemed hardly to
retain its hold upon mortality. How blessed the hope that pours
its heavenly balm into the wounds of the sufferer!
Poor Katy was painfully impressed by the appearance and conduct
of her mother. She had never before seen her so calm and resigned
to those dreadful sufferings. She had heard her complain and
murmur at her hard lot, and wonder why she should be thus sorely
afflicted. She feared that some appalling event, which she dared
not define and call by its name, was about to happen. She dared
not think of the future, and she wondered that her mother could
be so calm while she endured so much.
"Katy," said Mrs. Redburn, after the long silence that followed
the reading of the hymn, "I feel very weak and ill. Take my
hand."
"You are burning up with fever!" exclaimed Katy, as she clasped
the hand, and felt the burning, throbbing brow of her mother.
"I am; but do not be alarmed, Katy. Can you be very calm?"
"I will try."
"For I feel very sick, but I am very happy. I can almost believe
that the triumph of faith has already begun in my soul. The world
looks very dim to me."
"Nay, mother, don't say so."
"I only mean that as heaven seems nearer, my hold upon earth is
less strong.
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