"I am driven to set out from London," he wrote, "two days before I intended; for if I stay even till Wednesday, I shall have the company of Sir George Carew forced upon me, and all our hopes are at an end. The ship will lie off Leigh all day to-morrow, and all the following night. Come then, my beloved, come with all speed, and give me back the happiness that I have not known since I left you."
Arabella pressed her hand tightly upon her brow, and gazed wildly into vacancy. Every wish of her heart induced her to fly to him. The very despairing feeling of being alone, sick, and perhaps stricken by the pestilence, made her heart yearn to seek the arms of him who loved her, and find shelter, and comfort, and gentle tendance there. "But," she asked herself, "shall I take it to him I love? Shall I carry disease and death to one for whom I would willingly sacrifice my own life? Shall any selfish longing for the blessing of his presence, induce me to destroy him? Oh, no, no!"
"If you will wait below for a moment," she said, addressing the messenger, as soon as she could collect her thoughts, "I will write an answer;" and, seating herself at the table, she drew the writing materials towards her. Her brain whirled, her heart felt faint, she feared that she would never be able to accomplish the task; but dipping the pen in the ink, she proceeded with a hurried and unsteady hand.
"I cannot come," she said; "otherwise nothing should induce me to break my promise, however rash that promise might be. But I cannot come, for I am ill, and unequal to the journey. Even did I feel strength enough to undertake it, I could not bear to join you; for I have been in a house infected by the plague; and, although I will not deny that to see you would be the greatest blessing on earth, yet I would not purchase even that blessing, at the risk of carrying the pestilence to you. Go on your way then, William, and may God bless and prosper you. I will not tell you to forget me; I will not tell you to remember me. Do as your heart dictates; but believe me, in life or in death, yours, Arabella."
After she had done, she gazed at the letter for a moment, and then said to herself,
"It will alarm him--perhaps it will make him come here, and that would be his ruin;" and, taking the pen again, she added, "Though I feel very ill, I do not think it is the plague. I am sure, indeed, it is not--there has not yet been time. Heaven bless you. Adieu!" and bending her head over the letter, she let the tears which were in her eyes drop upon the page. Then folding and sealing it, she called the man who had brought it, and putting some money into his hand, bid him make all speed.
Without delay, he set off upon his errand, and, riding all night, reached, early the next morning, the little port of Leigh, off which the ship that bore William Seymour had been moored on the preceding evening. The ship's boat was at the shore, and the messenger, entering it without delay, was soon rowed to the vessel, where, in the cabin, waiting for him alone, he found his young master.
"The lady is very ill, sir," he said, in a low voice; "she looked very ill, indeed."
"Ill!" exclaimed her lover, with a look full of grief and disappointment. "Good Heaven, how unfortunate!" and taking the letter, he opened it and read it. The colour left his cheek, as he did so, and his hand shook with agitation. "I cannot go," he cried, "I cannot go and leave her.--Hark you, Williams, hark you! Quick, pack up some things in the saddlebags.--Can I get a horse at Leigh?"
"None but the one that brought me, sir," replied the man; "and that is well nigh knocked up.--We have no saddle-bags with us, sir."