I could not well go to
Unadilla to visit Henry without seeing his mother, whom I had no
desire to see; so I sent for him to come to me in the city if was
able to do so. I knew that if medicine or medical attendance would
benefit him, I should be able to help him.
In a few days he came to me in a most deplorable physical condition.
He was a mere wreck of his former self. Almost immediately he began
to talk about the attempt to abduct the boy from Oxford; how
innocent he was in the matter, and how terribly he had suffered
merely because he happened to be with me when I rashly endeavored to
kidnap the lad. All this went through me like a sharp sword. It
seemed as if I was the cause, not only of great unhappiness to
myself, but of pain and misery to all who were associated or brought
in contact with me. For this poor boy, who had endured and suffered
so much on my account, I could not do enough. My means and time must
now be devoted to his recovery, if recovery, was possible.
He was weak, but was still able to walk about, and he enjoyed riding
very much. I kept him with me in the city a week or two, taking
daily rides to the Park and into the country, and when he felt like
going out in the evening I made him go to some place of amusement
with me. I had no other business, and meant to have none, but to
take care of Henry, and I devoted myself wholly to his comfort and
happiness. In a few days he had much improved in health and spirits,
so much so, that I meditated making a long tour with him to the
South, hoping that the journey there and back again would fully
restore him.
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