Martha says, in her dry way, that I had better show my love by
sleeping and eating for him, and Ernest says I shall, as soon as I
get stronger. But I don't get strong, and that discourages me.
Nov. 26.-I begin to feel rather more like myself, and as if I could
write with less labor. I have had in these few past weeks such a
revelation of suffering, and such a revelation of joy, as mortal mind
can hardly conceive of. The world I live in now is a new world; a
world full of suffering that leads to unutterable felicity. Oh, this
precious, precious baby! How can I thank God enough for giving him to
me!
I see now why He has put some thorns into my domestic life; but for
them I should be too happy to live. It does not seem just the moment
to com plain, and yet, as I can speak to no one, it is a relief, a
great relief, to write about my trials. During my whole sickness,
Martha has been so hard, so cold, so unsympathizing that sometimes it
has seemed as if my cup of trial could not hold another drop. She
routed me out of bed when I was so languid that everything seemed a
burden, and when sitting up made me faint away. I heard her say to
herself, that I had no constitution and had no business to get
married. The worst of all is that during that dreadful night before
baby came, she kept asking Ernest to lie down and rest, and was sure
he would kill himself, and all that, while she had not one word of
pity for me.
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