As I picked up the stiff, frozen buggy lines, the mares, glad
to feel my hands on the reins, quickened their step. Soon we were
crossing Rocky Head Creek and climbing the hills toward home. The
coldness of the wind or the frost yet in the air brought on one
of the coughing spells to which I had been subject all winter.
This time I spat blood! Then I knew. The dread Consumption had
its grip on me!
I thought again of that line: "Lord make me to know mine
end." And I was glad He, not another, had told me.
I knew it was useless to do so, but I drove by to talk with
Elton, my wife's brother, who, as you recall, is the doctor here
in Drake Eye Springs. I had no hope that he could help me, for I
already knew there is no known cure for this scourge. Not only is
it fatal, but also it is considered an affliction of shame or
weakness. Why it should be thought something of a disgrace to
succumb to galloping Consumption and not to another disease, I
still cannot fathom.
Elton said he could not be sure of what ailed me, but he
feared I was right in my own diagnosis.
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