Hello.
Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.
Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.
But before we begin,
Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 33 Continued Rose Mailey had rapidly grown worse.
Before midnight she was delirious.
A medical practitioner who resided on the spot was in constant attendance upon her and after first seeing the patient,
He had taken Mrs Mailey aside and pronounced her disorder to be one of a most alarming nature.
In fact,
He said,
It would be little short of a miracle if she recovered.
How often did Oliver start from his bed that night and stealing out with noiseless footstep to the staircase,
Listen for the slightest sound from the sick chamber?
How often did a tremble shake his frame and cold drops of terror start upon his brow when a sudden trampling of feet caused him to fear something too dreadful to think of had even then occurred?
And what had been the fervency of all the prayers he had ever muttered compared with those he poured forth now in the agony and passion of his supplication for the life and health of the gentle creature who was tottering on the deep grave's verge?
All the suspense,
The fearful acute suspense of standing idly by while the life of one we dearly love is trembling in the balance.
All the racking thoughts that crowd upon the mind and make the heart beat violently and the breath come thick by the force of the images they conjure up before it.
The desperate anxiety to be doing something to relieve the pain or lessen the danger which we have no power to alleviate.
The sinking of the soul and spirit which the sad remembrance of our helplessness produces.
What tortures can equal these?
Morning came and the little cottage was lonely and still.
People spoke in whispers.
Anxious faces appeared at the gate from time to time.
Women and children went away in tears.
All the live long day and for hours after,
Oliver paced slowly up and down the garden raising his eyes every instant to the sick chamber and shuddering to see the darkened window looking as if death lay stretched inside.
Late that night,
Mr.
Losburn arrived.
It is hard,
Said the good doctor turning away.
So young,
So much beloved,
But there is very little hope.
Another morning.
The sun shone brightly,
As brightly as if it looked upon no misery or care.
And with every leaf and flower in full bloom about her,
With life and health and sounds and sights of joy surrounding her,
The fair young creature lay wasting fast.
Oliver crept away to the old churchyard and sitting down on one of the green mounds,
Wept and prayed for Rose in silence.
There was such peace and beauty in the scene.
So much of brightness and mirth in the sunny landscape.
Such blithesome music in the songs of the summer birds.
Such freedom in the rapid flight of the rook careering overhead.
So much of life and joyousness in all.
That when the boy raised his aching eyes and looked about,
The thought instinctively occurred to him.
That this was not a time for death.
That Rose could surely never die when humbler things were all so glad and gay.
That graves were for cold and cheerless winter,
Not for sunlight and fragrance.
He almost thought that shrouds were for the old and shrunken and that they never wrapped the young and graceful form in their ghastly folds.
A knell from the church bell broke harshly on these youthful thoughts.
Another.
Again.
It was tolling for the funeral service.
A group of humble mourners entered the gate,
Wearing white favours,
For the corpse was young.
They stood uncovered by a grave and there was a mother,
A mother once,
Among the weeping train.
But the sun shone brightly and the birds sang on.
Oliver turned homeward,
Thinking on the many kindnesses he had received from Rose and wishing the time could come again,
That he might never cease showing her how grateful and attached he was.
He had no cause for self-reproach on the score of neglect or want of thought,
For he had been devoted to her service.
And yet a hundred little occasions rose up before him,
On which he fancied he might have been more zealous and more earnest,
And wished he had been.
We need be careful how we deal with those about us,
When every death carries to some small circle of survivors.
Thoughts of so much omitted and so little done.
Of so many things forgotten and so many more which might have been repaired.
There is no remorse so deep as that which is unveiling,
If we would be spared its tortures.
Let us remember this in time.
When Oliver reached home,
Mrs Maylie was sitting in the little parlour.
Oliver's heart sank at the sight of her,
For she had never left the bedside of her niece.
And he trembled to think what change could have driven her away.
He learned that she had fallen into a deep sleep,
From which she would waken and go to sleep.
Either to recover in life,
Or to bid them farewell and die.
They sat listening,
Too afraid to speak for hours.
The untasted meal was removed,
With looks which showed their thoughts were elsewhere.
They watched the sun as he sank lower and lower,
And at length cast over sky and earth those brilliant hues which herald his departure.
Then their quick ears caught the sound of an approaching footstep.
Both Oliver and Mrs Maylie involuntarily darted to the door as Mr Losburn entered.
"'What of Rose?
' cried the old lady.
"'Tell me at once.
I can bear it.
Anything but suspense.
Tell me,
In the name of heaven.
' "'You must compose yourself,
' said the doctor as he supported her.
"'Be calm,
My dear mum.
Pray be calm.
' "'Let me go in God's name.
My dear child.
She's dead.
She's dying.
' "'No,
She is not!
' cried the doctor passionately.
"'As he is God and merciful,
Rose will live to bless us all for years to come.
' At this,
Mrs Maylie fell upon her knees and tried to fold her hands together,
But the energy which had supported her for so long fled up to heaven with her first thanksgiving.
And she sank into the friendly arms which were now extended to receive her.
