She arrived in England in a shattered state of health. The
hardships and the ceaseless effort of the last two years had
undermined her nervous system; her heart was pronounced to be
affected; she suffered constantly from fainting-fits and terrible
attacks of utter physical prostration. The doctors declared that
one thing alone would save her-- a complete and prolonged rest.
But that was also the one thing with which she would have nothing
to do. She had never been in the habit of resting; why should she
begin now? Now, when her opportunity had come at last; now, when
the iron was hot, and it was time to strike? No; she had work to
do; and, come what might, she would do it. The doctors protested
in vain; in vain her family lamented and entreated; in vain her
friends pointed out to her the madness of such a course. Madness?
Mad--possessed--perhaps she was. A demoniac frenzy had seized
upon her. As she lay upon her sofa, gasping, she devoured blue-
books, dictated letters, and, in the intervals of her
palpitations, cracked her febrile jokes. For months at a stretch
she never left her bed. For years she was in daily expectation of
death. But she would not rest. At this rate, the doctors assured
her, even if she did not die, she would, become an invalid for
life. She could not help that; there was the work to be done;
and, as for rest, very likely she might rest .
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