Chapter 60.
And now I must go back to our life in Hillcrest during the winter of 1896 and 1897. I had not been feeling up to much for a long time, and as the autumn came on I seemed to have less and less strength to battle with the world. It is true I had Miss Hicks to teach the children and my mother was also with me, but I think this rather added to my cares than lessened them. Some people never seem to agree and I felt as if my one business was to keep the peace all round. I daresay the nervous state I was in made things seem worse than they really were, but I somehow felt as if “the burden laid upon me was greater than I could bear”. Jack was out most evenings, and of course I should have rejoiced that he had the zeal and energy to undertake so many meetings. He went to the country on Sunday evening. On Monday there was a reading at Mrs. Ward’s on Protestant Hill, which a number of ladies attended. Then he went to Port Britain one evening, to have a meeting with the Holdaways and Trinbeths and one or two other families, and one day there was a reading and prayer meeting combined at our own room over the drug store. It was wonderful how he kept faithfully on, walking those lonely country roads at night with no one to help or encourage him, but it will be by and by that he sees the fruit of his labors. But I felt a great need of his help those autumn days, with such a big house and big family. Miss Hicks only taught the children three hours a day, and hardly ever did anything else for them; she had to have “quiet afternoons” she said, “for prayer and meditation”. I remember talking my troubles over with Jack one morning, but he failed to see my side of it and I went to the hayloft and cried all the rest of the morning; hardly my usual way of facing difficulties.
Mr. Hayhoe came to stay with us in October. We all loved him and we were glad to have him in the house; he was so good to the children. He used to say, if they were fretting over a rainy day: “Why, it’s spoiling all the little potatoes”. Well, one Monday while he was with us we walked up to the reading at Mrs. Ward’s. I think Jack must have been away for I went to show him the way. I could hardly get there and I never knew how I crawled home, but the next day I felt so ill I had to go and lie down as soon as breakfast was over and Mr. Hayhoe said he was sure there was something wrong, I looked so ill. At last Mother wrote to Dr. Becker and he said in reply that I had better stay in bed for a few days and be kept quiet.
But I was no better at the end of a few days, and days went into weeks and still I lay there, too miserable to get up, not able to read or sit up for long at a time. If I did my head all swelled up where I had had the stitches. Mother conscientiously kept me quiet; she would not let a single person see me from outside and members of the family only occasionally; the children came in to say good morning and I saw them no more. But as you may be sure, each person who succeeded in evading rules and coming in told me a long list of grievances. The only person who seemed to be in good favor all round was Edie.
I wished many times for my dear sister to smooth things out, but she was far away in England and not expected back for many months. Every morning Mother came in and read me a chapter and then I was alone with my thoughts till dinner time. After dinner I had to go to sleep (they said) and then at four o’clock I had a cup of tea and sometimes Miss Hicks was allowed to come and share it with me. Dear little Miss Hicks; how I enjoyed those afternoons, but it was not by any means every day I had that treat.
In the evening, if Jack was at home, he read to me out of the Life of Hahneman, a very dull book. I thought many things out during those lonely hours. One subject which I spent hours thinking over was the sovereignty of God. A verse which occupied me for a long time was, “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee”.
I felt strongly what it meant to be maimed and yet to enter into heaven. It was not the strong or perfect man that God wanted, but one who could give up what was precious or valuable to himself rather than not do the will of God. And I felt that lying there, feeling everything going wrong in the house, must be the very thing that I was to bow to. Perhaps I have not made my meaning clear, but it helped me very much at that time.
It was October when I went to bed, and it must have been the first or second week in December when our dear Will Pennington was taken ill. He had been living at the Miss Monsells’ for nearly a year, but one day, coming up the hill from the bank he took a false step and a hemorrhage came on. He had had one or two before coming to Port Hope and I think the disease had been insidiously working its way. He had told me a year before that he never felt very well. He went to the doctor, who sent him home to bed and he never got up again. They sent for his mother, poor thing, and towards the end he had Amy Gausby to nurse him, Dr. Becker came once or perhaps twice to see him but nothing could be done, and on Saturday night, December 31St, he passed away. He was quite conscious and said he was trusting in Christ and quietly passed away. It was a great blow to his mother. He was her first born and her other boys were young children then.
All that sad Sunday dear Mother was making preparations for her to go back to St. John on the Monday. Jack went with her and they took Christopher. It must have been a sad journey, taking the body of her dear son home. Now she too has reached her heavenly home and perhaps she knows something of why it was allowed. Only a few months afterwards one of her younger boys was taken away.
When Dr. Becker came to see poor Will he came to visit me and declared they were quite on the wrong track in their treatment. He said it was nervous prostration I had; what I needed was company and cheerfulness, and he insisted that I should try to get up. “Have your boys with you,” he said, “a son, however young, is always a little lover to his mother”. And when he went back he begged Mrs. Irwin, who was his wife’s sister, to ask me there for a change of scene. He said it was the effect of the accident nearly a year before; it often happened that way and did not come on immediately.
I think Dr. Becker’s visit was the beginning of my recovery, though it was a long time before I could walk about. But by the middle of February I was so far convalescent that I was able to go to Mrs. Irwin’s, and what a happy visit I had. They kept me in bed every morning, but we had such pleasant talks and by the third week I was able to go out and pay one or two visits. The two Irwin girls were charming companions, so bright and vivacious.
I remember I got home just in time for. Helen’s fourth birthday, and I brought with me a number of little presents for the children, and we had a bran pie. I slowly picked up after that. Miss Hicks left us in May. I forget just why she hurried home, but there was some reason. In June my sister arrived, which was a cause for great rejoicing. And on June 25th our little Hope was given to us.
Dear Amy Gausby took care of me and such a happy fortnight we had together. It was the Diamond Jubilee for our beloved Queen and our little girl came just at the time, so the older children, who felt old enough now to have an opinion as to her name, said she must be called after the Queen. Jack was anxious that she should be named Mary after his mother and I said: “Then my mother’s name must not be left out,” and I did not mind what they called her as long as her name was Hope. It was during those long wakeful nights of the previous winter, as I lay thinking it was to be a repetition of little Elizabeth, that this verse was suddenly brought to me in the most forcible way: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning”. When Jack awoke I said: “Our baby is going to live and we will call her Hope”. So Hope it was: Mary Caroline Alexandrina Hope.
The first thing which gave me a desire to get better, and a little fresh courage, was a book my sister sent me from England, called “Devonshire dyls”. I still keep it, though China has played such havoc with it that it now lies in one of my drawers.
It was also while we were in Hillcrest that our old friend Tartar came to the same untimely end as his country friend. The children unfortunately were present when he was run over, having gone down with Miss Hicks to meet their grandmother. Poor little Sommie did not get over it for some time; it was such a shock to his little sensitive nature. Dear Miss Barham gave the children another dog, a little wire haired terrier called Fritz. He was a charming little fellow but very fond of worrying the chickens. The first time I was able to walk across the room, as I recovered from my long illness, I looked out of the window and saw him worrying one of my best hens. Soon afterwards Mother came upstairs and provided herself with a piece of rope, which she carried behind her back. “What is that for,” I asked. Mother would not tell me. I immediately guessed: “You are going to hang Fritz,” I exclaimed, “you must not do anything of the kind.” I do not know whether she would have done it or if her courage would have failed. One day Jack was very ill and at night he seemed a little better and needed some food, so she went down and helped Ada kill a chicken for broth, but I am sure it was much against her will.