So it was great relief to quit Switzerland and find myself on
the deck of the steamer, with every revolution of the paddle
wheels bringing me nearer home. Nearer what had been home; all
was vague and blank in the distance now. I was sure of
nothing. Only, "The Lord is my Shepherd," answers all that. It
cannot always stop the beating of human hearts, though; and
mine beat hard sometimes, on that homeward voyage. Mamma was
very dismal. I sat on deck as much as I could and watched the
sea. It soothed me, with its living image of God's grand
government on earth; its ceaseless majestic flow, of which the
successive billows that raise their heads upon its surface are
not the interruption, but the continuation. So with our little
affairs, so with mine. Not for nothing does any feeblest one's
fortunes rise or fall; but to work somewhat of good either to
himself or to others, and so to the whole. I was pretty quiet
during the voyage, while I knew that no news could reach me; I
expected to keep quiet; but I did not know myself.
We had hardly entered the bay of New York, and I had begun to
discern familiar objects and to realise that I was in the same
land with Mr. Thorold again, when a tormenting anxiety took
possession of my heart. Now that I was near him, questions
could be put off no longer. What tidings would greet me? and
how should I get any tidings at all? A fever began to run
along my veins, which I felt was not to be cured by reasoning.
Yes, I was not seeking to dispose my own affairs; I was not
trying to take them into my own hands; but I craved to know
how they stood, and what it was to which I must submit myself.
I was not willing to submit to uncertainty. Yet I remembered I
must do just that.
The vessel came to her moorings, and I sat in my muse, only
conscious of that devouring impatience which possessed me; and
did not see Dr. Sandford till he was close by my side. Then I
was glad; but the deck of that bustling steamer was no place
to show how glad. I stood still, with my hand in the doctor's,
and felt my face growing cold.
"Sit down!" he said, putting me back in the chair from which I
had risen; and still keeping my hand. "How is Mrs. Randolph?"
"I suppose you know how she is, from her letters."
"And you?" he said, with a change of tone.
"I do not know. I shall be better, I hope."
"You will be better, to get ashore. Will you learn your
mother's pleasure about it? and I will attend to the rest."