Alas, he was but a poor prophet!
Difficulties came up. Wharton's father violently opposed the plan that Guy had made. That, however, might not have prevented its execution, had not a fatal thing happened just at the critical time. On the eve of the sailing of the expedition, Guy's father died. That which his bitterest activity while alive failed to effect was accomplished by his white and silent presence as he lay dead in the old manor-house. At such a moment Guy could not go away; the unspoken edict of death restrained him absolutely. Besides, the elder Wharton's affairs were left in a confusion which it would take long to clear up.
So the ship sailed without Guy; but you may be sure he was at the wharf when she weighed anchor, and that he bade a tender farewell to Gertrude, promising that he would follow with the first convoy that should be sent to re-enforce and victual the new colony. At the instant when he had to leave her, she said, as if answering his words, uttered many weeks before at the turnstile: "Yes, dearest, we shall meet soon in that other world, and there shall be no more parting."
Guy did not think of the exact expression, just then; but as he travelled back to the manor-house, now his own, he kept saying to himself involuntarily: "That other world? God grant it may not mean the world beyond!" When he stepped within the door, his eye rested on the inscription over the great fireplace of the hall:
"I live, how long I trow not;
I die, but where I know not;
I journey, but whither I cannot see:
'Tis strange that I can merry be."
Many a festival had been held beneath the unnoticed shadow of those solemn lines; the laughter and the cheer, the sobs and murmurs of many a voice forever hushed, had echoed from the wall where the verses were graven; but it seemed to him that the motto had never gained its full meaning until now.
"I journey, but whither I cannot see."
Gertrude had gone out into the great void of the unknown spaces; and he was to follow her—whither?
It would indeed have been strange if he could have been merry; and, to say truth, he was not greatly so; but he kept up his hope indomitably.
At last everything was arranged: he was ready to go. But he had to wait for the relief expedition to sail. In those days it was a great undertaking to prepare for a journey across the Atlantic. Raleigh was busy, perplexed, anxious: three years went by before Admiral John White started from Plymouth with three little ships (one for each year) and two shallops. But when he did start, Guy was on board.