“Harry, love, I hope it would not make you very unhappy to lose me. Just a little sorry I should wish you to feel; I should like you, when you are recollecting me, to think, ‘she was a poor, foolish little thing, very obstinate and perverse at times, but still she loved me as well as such a silly little thing could.’”
“Alice, my own darling, why indulge in such gloomy fancies?” replied her husband, tenderly; “you know, you must be sure, it would break my heart to lose you. Ask Emily whether I am not a different creature since the doctors have pronounced you out of danger?”
“Harry, my own dearest husband, I love to hear you say that, and I know it is true; but, dear Harry, you must not be very unhappy if such a thing were to occur, for—for—I think I shall die yet; I think I grow weaker and weaker every day; I shall never have strength enough to get well again.”
Coverdale was about to interrupt her, but she placed her finger on his lips to imply her wish that he should remain silent as she continued—
“Yes, dearest, I believe I am gradually sinking into my grave; it made me very, very unhappy at first; for life is pleasant, and I am young to die! besides, I know, love, what a bad, tiresome wife I have been to you, and I did so want to try if I could not do better; I know what a proud rebellious, wilful temper I have shown towards you, but indeed I don’t think I have altogether a bad heart, and I did hope if I tried, very hard, perhaps I could make you happy; but lately I have begun to think it may be better for you as it is.”
“My own darling, what strange, silly fancies are these? Gouger says you are going on as well as possible; you make me wretched to hear you talk so, and what do you mean by it being better for me as it is? If I were to lose you, I should never know another happy hour.”
“You think so now, dear,” was the reply, “and very kind it is of you to be so fond of your naughty, tiresome little wife; and I know you will be very unhappy at first when I die; but you must go abroad or take a shooting tour somewhere, to keep you from thinking and fretting about me; and—you must not be angry at what I am going to say, dear—in a year or so you must come back, and then you can marry some one who will make you a better wife than poor, silly little Alice—some one who has been attached to you a long time, and whom there will be no reason why you should not love in return when I am out of the way; she is more clever and courageous than I am, and will be able to enter into your pursuits, and help you with your magistrate’s business, and—and—oh! I am sure you will be very happy with her, dear!”