In the beginning of 1843news reached us that Sterling had,in his too reckless way,encountered a dangerous accident:maids,in the room where he was,were lifting a heavy table;he,seeing them in difficulty,had snatched at the burden;heaved it away,--but had broken a blood-vessel by the business;and was now,after extensive hemorrhage,lying dangerously ill.The doctors hoped the worst was over;but the case was evidently serious.In the same days,too,his Mother had been seized here by some painful disease,which from its continuance grew alarming.Sad omens for Edward Sterling,who by this time had as good as ceased writing or working in the _Times_,having comfortably winded up his affairs there;and was looking forward to a freer idle life befitting his advanced years henceforth.Fatal eclipse had fallen over that household of his;never to be lifted off again till all darkened into night.
By dint of watchful nursing,John Sterling got on foot once more:but his Mother did not recover,quite the contrary.Her case too grew very questionable.Disease of the heart,said the medical men at last;not immediately,not perhaps for a length of years,dangerous to life,said they;but without hope of cure.The poor lady suffered much;and,though affecting hope always,grew weaker and weaker.John ran up to Town in March;I saw him,on the morrow or next day after,in his own room at Knightsbridge:he had caught fresh cold overnight,the servant having left his window up,but I was charged to say nothing of it,not to flutter the already troubled house:he was going home again that very day,and nothing ill would come of it.We understood the family at Falmouth,his Wife being now near her confinement again,could at any rate comport with no long absence.He was cheerful,even rudely merry;himself pale and ill,his poor Mother's cough audible occasionally through the wall.Very kind,too,and gracefully affectionate;but I observed a certain grimness in his mood of mind,and under his light laughter lay something unusual,something stern,as if already dimmed in the coming shadows of Fate.
"Yes,yes,you are a good man:but I understand they mean to appoint you to Rhadamanthus's post,which has been vacant for some time;and you will see how you like that!"This was one of the things he said;a strange effulgence of wild drollery flashing through the ice of earnest pain and sorrow.He looked paler than usual:almost for the first time,I had myself a twinge of misgiving as to his own health;for hitherto I had been used to blame as much as pity his fits of dangerous illness,and would often angrily remonstrate with him that he might have excellent health,would he but take reasonable care of himself,and learn the art of sitting still.Alas,as if he _could_learn it;as if Nature had not laid her ban on him even there,and said in smiles and frowns manifoldly,"No,that thou shalt not learn!"He went that day;he never saw his good true Mother more.Very shortly afterwards,in spite of doctors'prophecies,and affectionate illusions,she grew alarmingly and soon hopelessly worse.Here are his last two Letters to her:--"_To Mrs.Sterling,Knightsbridge,London_.
"FALMOUTH 8th April,1843.
"DEAREST MOTHER,--I could do you no good,but it would be the greatest comfort to me if I could be near you.Nothing would detain me but Susan's condition.I feel that until her confinement is over,I ought to remain here,--unless you wished me to go to you;in which case she would be the first to send me off.Happily she is doing as well as possible,and seems even to gain strength every day.She sends her love to you.
"The children are all doing well.I rode with Edward to-day through some of the pleasant lanes in the neighborhood;and was delighted,as I have often been at the same season,to see the primroses under every hedge.It is pleasant to think that the Maker of them can make other flowers for the gardens of his other mansions.We have here a softness in the air,a smoothness of the clouds,and a mild sunshine,that combine in lovely peace with the first green of spring and the mellow whiteness of the sails upon the quiet sea.The whole aspect of the world is full of a quiet harmony,that influences even one's bodily frame,and seems to make one's very limbs aware of something living,good and immortal in all around us.Knowing how you suffer,and how weak you are,anything is a blessing to me that helps me to rise out of confusion and grief into the sense of God and joy.Icould not indeed but feel how much happier I should have been,this morning,had you been with me,and delighting as you would have done in all the little as well as the large beauty of the world.But it was still a satisfaction to feel how much I owe to you of the power of perceiving meaning,reality and sweetness in all healthful life.And thus I could fancy that you were still near me;and that I could see you,as I have so often seen you,looking with earnest eyes at wayside flowers.
"I would rather not have written what must recall your thoughts to your present sufferings:but,dear Mother,I wrote only what I felt;and perhaps you would rather have it so,than that I should try to find other topics.I still hope to be with you before long.
Meanwhile and always,God bless you,is the prayer of "Your affectionate son,"JOHN STERLING."_To the same_.
"FALMOUTH,12th April,1843.
"DEAREST MOTHER,--I have just received my Father's Letter;which gives me at least the comfort of believing that you do not suffer very much pain.That your mind has remained so clear and strong,is an infinite blessing.
