Library Collections: Document: Full Text

During these few days many doctors had examined Jessy's leg most carefully, and she remarked, that all of them seemed to think ill of it. She was herself sensible that the pain was not diminished, and that the parts affected were gradually spreading. This she told her mother, who visited her daily.

'Ay,' replied Mrs. Grey, 'they told me that it would be so before you came here, Jessy.'

'And what more did the doctors say, mother?'

'I must not tell you, Jessy. They forbade me, and I promised, because they said my telling you would do you ill. But I think all their fine attendance has not done you much good.'

Poor Jessy did not press her mother to break her word, but she felt certain that what she had so much feared would assuredly take place. Now, however, she could, with some measure of composure, look forward to whatever might occur, as sent by her heavenly Father; and fervently prayed for his grace, to prepare and enable her to suffer his will, so as to honour him, by showing his power to support the very feeblest of those who put their trust in him.

Next forenoon Jessy's own doctor, and the gentleman he had called to look at her leg the first day she was in the Infirmary, came together to her bed-side. Her own doctor spoke cheerfully to her, and undid the dressings on her wound. When the other doctor saw it, he said, 'I was right, -- it is just as I expected, nothing will stop its progress. He then felt Jessy's pulse, and added, 'She seems less weak than when she came, that is good.'

He then went away. Jessy's doctor dressed her wound in silence, and saw her laid comfortably. He then sat down on the side of her bed, and said to her in a low voice, 'Jessy, do you remember a promise you made to me, the second day I visited you ?'

Jessy thought for an instant. 'No, Sir, but whatever it was, I am ready to fulfil it if I can.'

'Your promise was, Jessy, that if I would just tell you any thing you ought to do in order to recover your health, you would do it.'

'Well, Sir, I am sure it is the least I can do. I wish I could do any thing to show you how much I feel obliged by all your kindnesses.'

'Well, Jessy, I will tell you the truth; from the first day I saw this wound, I thought it would never heal. All the doctors who have seen it since you came here, are of the same opinion; -- and now there is but one thing we can do, -- if that were done, we all think you would be quite well and stout afterwards.'

'I understand you, Sir,' said Jessy, becoming very pale, 'and I am ready to undergo whatever you think right.'

The doctor looked at Jessy. 'Are you sure you understand me?' asked he.

'Quite sure,' replied Jessy, smiling, though her eyes filled with tears, 'and I am much obliged to you for all the trouble you have taken, Sir, and for the gentle way you have told me this. I have been thinking, ever since I came here, that it might end this way.'

'Your mother first put it into your head in a rash way,' said the doctor; 'I was sorry for that, because it might have affected your nerves, and made you regard it as much more formidable than it really is.'

'Yes, Sir; the thought was very dreadful to me at first, but now I trust I shall be enabled to suffer whatever the Lord sees to be good for me.'

'You will be enabled, Jessy, be assured, if you firmly put your trust in God, -- none ever trusted him in vain.' The doctor then sat thoughtfully for a little. When he rose to go away, he said, 'We do not think it good to delay in such cases as yours, Jessy, but I shall see you tomorrow morning. I know now that you are ready when it is thought proper.'

He then went away, and when Jessy heard his last step as he left the room, all her power to act firmly seemed to go with him, and she sunk down in her bed, and wept bitterly. Every painful thing came before her, -- the dreadful operation, -- lameness for life. She never would be able to go to service, -- she must always remain in her mother's house, -- all the thoughts of happier days, when she might get a situation in some pious family, and escape from scenes of drunkenness, and swearing, and confusion, -- all must be given up for ever! At last a voice seemed to whisper in Jessy's heart, 'Is this the way you suffer the will of your Lord?' She became calm, and said to herself, 'And is this the way I trust to his promise that he will make all things work together for my good?' She remembered that God had said in his word, 'Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.' And how am I to understand this? thought Jessy. Am I now to expect that God will deliver me from what I fear? No, that would be a miracle: and miracles were wrought, not to convince believers, but unbelievers. God will deliver me from such trouble as prevents my soul from loving and trusting him. He will prove to me, that he can enable me to bear whatever he inflicts, and still to love, and still to believe, that he has no pleasure in my afflictions, but sends them for my good; nay more, to believe that in all these afflictions my Lord is afflicted with me; and while he thus delivers me from all the bitterness of the trials he sees necessary to send, he will, by giving me to feel his power to support under and sweeten them all, enable me to show forth the glory of his supporting grace and love. When Jessy was enabled to think thus, her mind became calm, and a sweet and heavenly peace was shed abroad in her heart. While in this happy state of mind, she heard some one approaching her bed, and supposing it was her mother, she turned away her face for a moment, to implore strength for the trying scene she expected, when she should inform her of the truth. On turning round again, however, not her mother, but her good school-mistress, stood by her bed, her looks full of kindness and compassion. Jessy's heart filled. She had not seen her mistress since before she met with her accident: --