Hilton's mistake in
marrying a delicate fine lady. His crops failed; his horses died;
his barn took fire: in short, if he had been in any way a
remarkable character, one might have supposed him to be the
object of an avenging fate, so successive were the evils which
pursued him; but, as he was only a somewhat commonplace farmer, I
believe we must attribute his calamities to some want in his
character of the one quality required to act as keystone to many
excellences. While his wife lived, all worldly misfortunes seemed
as nothing to him; her strong sense and lively faculty of hope
upheld him from despair; her sympathy was always ready, and the
invalid's room had an atmosphere of peace and encouragement which
affected all who entered it. But when Ruth was about twelve, one
morning in the busy hay-time, Mrs. Hilton was left alone for some
hours. This had often happened before, nor had she seemed weaker
than usual when they had gone forth to the field; but on their
return, with merry voices, to fetch the dinner prepared for the
haymakers, they found an unusual silence brooding over the house;
no low voice called out gently to welcome them, and ask after the
day's progress; and, on entering the little parlour, which was
called Mrs. Hilton's, and was sacred to her, they found her lying
dead on her accustomed sofa. Quite calm and peaceful she lay;
there had been no struggle at last; the struggle was for the
survivors, and one sank under it.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67