She
created about him an atmosphere of hope and cheerfulness, and
nowhere did the sunshine of her love seem so bright as when
lighting up the couch of her invalid husband.
Nor was he unconscious of her worth. In one of his letters to
her, when absent from his side, Hood said: "I never was anything,
Dearest, till I knew you; and I have been a better, happier, and
more prosperous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender,
Sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail. I am writing warmly
and fondly, but not without good cause. First, your own
affectionate letter, lately received; next, the remembrance of our
dear children, pledges--what darling ones!--of our old familiar
love; then, a delicious impulse to pour out the overflowings of my
heart into yours; and last, not least, the knowledge that your
dear eyes will read what my hand is now writing. Perhaps there is
an afterthought that, whatever may befall me, the wife of my bosom
will have the acknowledgment of her tenderness, worth, excellence
--all that is wifely or womanly, from my pen." In another letter,
also written to his wife during a brief absence, there is a
natural touch, showing his deep affection for her: "I went and
retraced our walk in the park, and sat down on the same seat, and
felt happier and better."
But not only was Mrs. Hood a consoler, she was also a helper of
her husband in his special work.
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