I fell to reading the biography of voyagers to see how the females of their party bore the perils of the sea, and then I made many inquiries as to their perils on shore, even with the tenderness of a husband to sustain them. Recollect, my friends, that this beloved being was my only tie on earth, and that without her, existence would be a burden. I was not going rashly to decide on her fate and mine; it was therefore but consistent with the love I bore her to weigh well the difficulties on either side. She, too, had thought of every thing, and her mind was made up at once—and that was to go with me. “I have but this to say, dearest husband,” said she at the beginning, and her mind underwent no change, “if we are permitted to go safely, we shall be a comfort to one another throughout the voyage and on shore; but if otherwise—if the sea is to be our grave, then we shall perish together; I could not survive your loss, and you, dearest”—
I never could let her proceed further; as to live without her seemed a thing impossible. At such times I seemed to yield assent, and began to make preparations; but having read an account of the illness and death of a lady on her passage across the Atlantic, I determined at once, if the going was insisted upon, that I would let her remain behind. Then again, if I saw in the papers the death of a young mother, I repented of my former decision; and in this miserable state of mind I was during the whole month of July. August still found me irresolute; but I had only two weeks left to waver, for there would then be but little time left to come within the limits of the bequest. There were but six weeks from that time to the first of October; it therefore became necessary to bring my mind to the painful decision of leaving my wife behind. I wrote to Mr. Porter, entreating him to come immediately, and remain in the house during my absence. I saw an eminent physician, and interested him in such a way that I was sure he would never let a day pass without paying her a visit, whether she were indisposed or not; and I took every precaution, in short, that love and prudence could dictate to make her comfortable and happy.
How she bore with all this nervous, morbid irritability, I cannot tell; but never by word or look did she betray any impatience; her sole object was to sooth me and make light of her own sufferings. She promised to take great care of her health, and Martha exhausted words in her desire to set my mind at rest. Mr. Porter declared she should never be out of his thoughts, and Mr. Blagge promised to take his wife and daughter to her the day after I should sail. But all this was nothing, absolutely nothing, in my estimation, when I considered how much more than all this I could do for her were I near her myself.
The time came at last; Mr. Blagge had taken my passage, and my trunk had gone to the ship. I had been to get some necessary papers of the British consul, and was hastening home—that home where I had enjoyed such exquisite happiness—like a fool I was leaving it—for what?—for an uncertain good—and when I returned, if Providence permitted me to return, might I not find that dear and cherished spot desolate! Whilst I was thus tormenting myself with these fearful fancies, the funeral of a lady passed me; she had been married at the same time with us, and she had died of inflammation of the lungs. I inquired of a person who was acquainted with her, and I found that she had taken cold from sitting in the draft of two doors, and, he added, the room was very small, so that there was no avoiding the exposure—the very situation in which I had left my dear wife only an hour before!
Of course I hastened home with greater speed and opened the door of the little parlour with the dismal feelings that I came too late. But she had removed to the window, and the sash was down. Oh, how I blessed her for this act of prudence. She saw my nervous apprehension and asked what had thus disturbed me, and finding my fears groundless I was ashamed to tell her the cause. She looked earnestly at me and said, “My dear husband, you are wearing yourself out with fears and anxieties; I am well, and with the blessing of Providence I hope so to remain; nay, I am strong enough to encounter the voyage, much more able to bear it than you are with your excited feelings. There are our trunks, Martha’s and mine, ready packed, and we are only hoping and waiting for your assent to go with you; so, dearest, knowing how unhappy you will be to leave me behind, even let me go. I shall not urge you any further, my love, but think of it this evening, and we shall have time in the morning to get ready what little remains to be done. Now throw all care from your mind and let us sit down cheerfully to our supper; depend upon it we shall be sitting here together this day four months laughing and talking over our present anxieties.”
Laugh, indeed, thought I; there never can come a time when I shall laugh at what I am now feeling so keenly. But I cast all selfishness aside, and determined to go alone as the lesser evil of the two, going over and over again the whole argument, and more fully convinced that although it was most painful to leave her, yet it would be cruel and presumptuous to make her encounter the risks of a sea voyage. I had but little sleep this last night; but my dear wife, after vainly endeavouring to prevail on me to court repose, fell asleep like an infant and slept soundly till morning. She suffered as acutely as I did, but her nervous temperament was of a less irritable cast; her sensibilities were more equally balanced. A knowledge of this always gave me comfort.
The dreaded morning came; all was hurry and bustle, and of course but little time for conversation. The trunks still stood in the room; mine had gone the day before, and I cast a look at them, and then on my wife, who, pale as death, was looking at the carriage that was to convey me to the boat. She saw my look and said, “I may go then, dear husband, you consent then that we shall go?” But I shut my eyes, as if to shut out the temptation, and shook my head. “Put the trunks out of the room, Mr. Porter,” said I, “for I shall be tormented with the desire to take her with me, and that I ought not to do; I must not waver any more, or I shall be unable to go at all.” The trunks were removed, and my dear wife seated herself and sighed. “But why do not you and Martha accompany me to the wharf?” said I—“perhaps we shall feel the parting less. There will be no time for any thing there but getting on board. Do you think, Martha, that she can bear it?”
“Oh yes, I dare say she can,” said Martha, “and I am sure it will do her good, and we can keep the carriage for an hour or so and take a little ride, for she has sat too much at her needle lately. Brother, do you get another carriage for us, and let them go together; Mr. Parr will feel the better for having her all to himself. We can return with her, you know.”
I was thankful for being a few minutes longer with my beloved, and I hoped that we might remain at the wharf an hour at least, as it was now only nine o’clock. We thought it best to go, however, as the wind was fair, and the captain might be anxious to sail; so we entered the carriage, leaving Martha to come with her brother. We drove slowly to the wharf, and there the first person we saw was Mr. Blagge, who had kindly come to see me off. My dear wife drew back in the carriage and begged that he might not see her, so I went to him and thanked him for this proof of his friendship, and again entreated him to remember how essential it was to my peace of mind that he should do all in his power to lessen my wife’s anxieties—if I could not ask a favour for myself, I would for this dear one.
Mr. Porter came to us and said that they had better return, as the horses were restless and Mrs. Parr might get frightened. Mr. Blagge thought so too, and blamed me for bringing her down to a scene of so much confusion; so I hastily snatched one kiss, pressed her dear hand as she held it out to me after the door was closed, and she and Martha disappeared from my sight.