Historical fiction; Inquisition -- Fiction; Spain -- History -- Ferdinand and Isabella, 1479-1516 -- Fiction
During all these demands upon her time, her thoughts, and her health,
however, the ruling passion neither slumbered nor slept. She completed
the Jewish Faith, and also prepared Home Influence for the press,
though very unfit to have taxed her powers so far. Her medical
attendant became urgent for total change of air and scene, and again
strongly interdicted _all_ mental exertion--a trip to Frankfort, to
visit her elder brother, was therefore decided on. In June, 1847, she
set out, and bore the journey without suffering nearly so much as
might have been expected. Her hopes were nigh, her spirits raised--the
novelty and interest of her first travels on the Continent gave her
for a very transient period a gleam, as it were, of strength. For a
week or two she appeared to rally, then again every exertion became
too much for her, every stimulating remedy to exhaust her. She
was ordered from Frankfort to try the baths and mineral waters of
Schwalbach, but without success. After a stay of six weeks, and
persevering with exemplary patience in the treatment prescribed, she
was one night seized with alarming convulsive spasms, so terrible that
her family removed her next morning with all speed back to Frankfort,
to the house of a family of most kind friends, where every attention
and care was lavishly bestowed.
In vain. She took to her bed the very day of her arrival, and never
rose from it again; she became daily weaker, and in three weeks from
that time her sufferings ceased for ever. She was perfectly conscious
to within less than two hours before her death, and took an
affectionate leave of her mother and brother. Speech had been a
matter of difficulty for some time previous, her throat being greatly
affected by her malady; but she had, in consequence, learned to use
her fingers in the manner of the deaf and dumb, and almost the last
time they moved, it was to spell upon them feebly, "Though He slay me,
yet will I trust in Him."
She was buried in the cemetery of Frankfort, one side of which is set
apart for the people of her faith. The stone which marks the spot
bears upon it a butterfly and five stars, emblematic of the soul in
heaven, and beneath appears the inscription--
"Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise
her in the gates."--Prov. ch. xxxi, v. 31.
And thus, 16th September, 1847, at the early age of thirty-one, Grace
Aguilar was laid to rest--the bowl was broken, the silver cord was
loosed. Her life was short and checkered with pain and anxiety,
but she strove hard to make it useful and valuable, by employing
diligently and faithfully the talents with which she had been endowed.
Nor did the serious view with which she ever regarded earthly
existence, induce her to neglect or despise any occasion of enjoyment,
advantage, or sociality which presented itself. Her heart was ever
open to receive, her hand to give.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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