I suppose the man had some affection for his wife, yet he had the strangest manner of proving it that can be well imagined. For instance, in order to assure himself of her entire devotion to him, he was continually accusing her of ideas which he knew perfectly well never entered her thoughts, and when, after vainly endeavouring-for none are so obstinate as those who will not be convinced-to soothe him, she would burst into an agony of tears; then, and only then, the brute was happy! He saw her wretchedness and fancied she adored him.
Did such a wretch deserve the love and respect of a confiding heart?
All mankind would answer no. Yet', in justice to the lovely Bessy, I must affirm that such was the purity of her mind, her abhorrence of vice and inherent love of virtue, that had providence allotted for her a man who had treated her with but common attention and kindness, the importunities, sighs, vows, tears, and protestations of fifty thousand men would not have induced her to turn from her duty for a moment; and never, from the hour I first knew the influence of love up to the present, did I find half the difficulty in overruling the scruples of twenty women, as I experienced in winning the first kiss from this charming, ill-used, yet love-inspiring wife.
The avarice, not the poverty, of this gallant husband prevented his allowing his wife the aid of a servant; consequently, when he was absent at his daily avocations, Bessy, her infant child, and myself were the only inmates of the house; and as it had been stipulated that my meals were to be prepared for me, we commonly sat at one table; it will not be doubted that I took advantage of the opportunities so frequently afforded me to beguile the time with conversation applicable to my own peculiar situation. I related stories of the calamities of faithful lovers till the tears of sympathy have Tolled in torrents down her lovely cheek; then, in order to relieve her gentle heart, I would change the subject or subdue her soul to tenderness with some appropriate melody, and suiting the action to the word would sometimes venture to seize her hand, and press it to my heart in ecstasy.
It was long before she could reconcile herself to suffer even this trifling liberty, and would instantly withdraw her hand, her cheek would assume a crimson hue, and in tremulous accents would she chide my presumptuous daring; then would I laugh at her anger and diminish her fears by declaring that I had no meaning beyond the momentary impulse occasioned by the sentiment contained in the song, and carried away by my enthusiasm was merely embellishing the words of the poet with suitable action; thus would I appease her, and in a few moments, lapsing into forgetfulness, again be guilty of a similar offence.
This I repeated so often that it ceased to inspire her with alarm, and was no longer even considered a fault; and I have sat for hours in her company, her hands fast locked in mine, repeating passages from the works of our best dramatic authors, where love is depicted in fascinating forms and painted in the most glowing colors. I even so far prevailed upon her as to induce her to commit to memory some of the scenes of our immortal bard, the "swan of Avon," which, with appropriate action, we frequently rehearsed together.
Although at times thrown off her guard by these amusements, such was the integrity of her conduct as a wife that even in our most familiar converse I dared not as yet speak to her of love on my own account, and months passed away without affording me a chance of declaring the passion that preyed upon my heart; and when at times I endeavoured to excite her sympathy by relating fictitious tales of happy lovers, of languishing and yielding wives, her indignation cannot be described, and I have despairingly resolved never to see her more, but when, in a few minutes after, I have detected her regarding me with a stolen glance of compassionate regard, all my previous resolutions were in an instant destroyed and I inwardly resolved to overcome the obstacles that barred my approach to happiness, even should my whole life be passed in the pursuit.
One happy evening I had at her request been singing that well-known and most beautiful ballad, "O, fly from the world, dear Bessy, to me"; as I concluded, having as usual her hand fast locked in mine, I imagined that for the first time my pressure was returned; gentle though it was, still it was quite sufficient to entrance my very soul. Indeed my emotion was too violent to be concealed; she felt the trembling of my hand; our eyes met; a similar feeling seemed to invade us both; we continued to gaze upon each other; I threw my arm round her waist and as a tear glistened in her beautiful eye drew her towards me.
Our lips met; the bliss was insupportable and I sank upon her bosom in an agony of transport.
My happiness, however, lasted but a moment, for with a convulsive bound she started from my embrace, exclaiming, "My G-d! what have I done?"
She covered her face with her hands, and sobbed convulsively.
I endeavoured to compose her, but in vain. I fell upon my knees before her and assured her of my unalterable love; my words and posture seemed to recall her wandering senses; she arose, and with a dignified look of offended virtue, demanded how I dared to address such language to her-a wife and a mother?
I was about to offer an excuse for my rash conduct when she commanded me to be gone in a tone which plainly proved she meant to be obeyed; convinced that, in her present state of mind, remonstrance would be useless, I left the room, hoping that when the violence of her passion had abated, the memory of the past would render her more kind.
Notwithstanding her anger at parting, I congratulated myself on the events of the evening. I felt well assured that I was no longer an object of indifference to the beloved of my soul and doubted not but that time, and my unceasing assiduities operating with her own secret desires, would ultimately accomplish my wishes.
I retired to rest, but not to sleep, and lay awake anxiously awaiting the return of the day-that day which I vainly hoped would make me truly blest. It came at last. I heard with joy the husband depart to his daily toil, and having dressed myself with more than usual care impatiently awaited my summons to the morning repast. At length I heard a gentle rap at my door. I flew upon the wings of love to open it-but, judge of the disappointment I experienced, when I beheld a perfect stranger! — a vulgar-looking girl, of twelve 6r thirteen years, who, with an awkward curtsey, asked me if it was quite convenient to let her come in and lay my breakfast cloth.
For a moment I stood petrified with astonishment, while she proceeded to inform me that Mrs. E., being very poorly, had sent to her (the girl's) mother to ask if she could spare Martha to come over and assist her, and also to attend upon the single man, her lodger.
I understood the whole affair in a moment; shame on the occurrence of the preceding evening and fear for the future had rendered my dear Bessy unwilling to trust herself again in my company.
Having no other alternative, I suffered the girl to prepare my breakfast, which was one of the most solitary meals I ever had the mortification of sitting down to; in fact, it was taken away nearly untouched.
I sent a message to express my sorrow at her illness, with a request that she would allow me to see her for a moment, on a subject of the greatest importance; she returned a polite answer, thanking me for the concern I manifested but declining an interview on pretence of being confined to her chamber.
Finding that for two days she was obstinately resolute in her determination of refusing to see me, I proceeded to change my plan of attack and accordingly penned the following note, which I sent by the girl as I left home, at the same time telling her that I should not require her services that day as I should not return until the following evening.