The course of this fever is always slow and exhausting. My patient
sunk steadily, day by day, while I continued to watch the case with
more than common anxiety. At the end of a week, she was feeble as an
infant, and lay, for the most part, in a state of coma. I visited
her two or three times every day, and had the thought of her almost
constantly in my mind. Her mother, nerved for the occasion, was
calm, patient, and untiring. The excitement which appeared on the
occasion of my first visits, when there was doubt as to the
character of the disease, passed away, and never showed itself again
during her daughter's illness. I saw, daily, deeper into her
character, which more and more impressed me with its simple
grandeur, if I may use the word in this connection. There was
nothing trifling, mean, or unwomanly about her. Her mind seemed to
rest with a profoundly rational, and at the same time child-like
trust, in Providence. Fear did not unnerve her, nor anxiety stay her
hands in any thing. She met me, at every visit, with dignified
self-possession, and received my report of the case, each time,
without visible emotion.
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