I merely write to allay these tumults which our necessary separation produces; to aid me in calling up a little patience till the time arrives when our persons, like our minds, shall be united forever. That time--may nothing happen to prevent--but nothing can happen. But why this ominous misgiving just now? My love has infected me with these unworthy terrors, for she has them too.
This morning I was relating my dream to her. She started, and grew pale.
A sad silence ensued the cheerfulness that had reigned before:--"Why thus dejected, my friend?"
"I hate your dream. It is a horrid thought. Would to G.o.d it had never occurred to you!"
"Why, surely, you place no confidence in dreams?"
"I know not where to place confidence; not in my present promises of joy,"--and she wept. I endeavoured to soothe or console her. Why, I asked, did she weep?
"My heart is sore. Former disappointments were so heavy; the hopes which were blasted were so like my present ones, that the dread of a like result will intrude upon my thoughts. And now your dream! Indeed, I know not what to do. I believe I ought still to retract--ought, at least, to postpone an act so irrevocable."
Now was I obliged again to go over my catalogue of arguments to induce her to confirm her propitious resolution to be mine within the week. I, at last, succeeded, even in restoring her serenity, and beguiling her fears by dwelling on our future happiness.
Our household, while we stayed in America,--in a year or two we hie to Europe,--should be _thus_ composed. Fidelity, and skill, and pure morals, should be sought out, and enticed, by generous recompenses, into our domestic service. Duties which should be light and regular.--Such and such should be our amus.e.m.e.nts and employments abroad and at home: and would not this be true happiness?
"Oh yes--if it may be so."
"It shall be so; but this is but the humble outline of the scene; something is still to be added to complete our felicity."
"What more can be added?"
"What more? Can Achsa ask what more? She who has not been _only_ a wife----"
But why am I indulging this pen-prattle? The hour she fixed for my return to her is come, and now take thyself away, quill. Lie there, snug in thy leathern case, till I call for thee, and that will not be very soon. I believe I will abjure thy company till all is settled with my love. Yes; I _will_ abjure thee; so let _this_ be thy last office, till Mervyn has been made the happiest of men.
THE END.