"But one painful scene and hour I was yet compelled to endure the
night before our departure. Mr. Edgerton came to play his flute
under our window. I say Mr. Edgerton, but it was only by a sort
of instinct that I fixed upon him as the musician. Perhaps it was
because I knew not what other person to suspect. Frequently, before
this night, had I heard this music; but on this occasion he seemed
to have approached more nearly to the dwelling; and, indeed, I finally
discovered that he was actually beneath the China-tree that stood
on the south front of the cottage. I was asleep when the music
began. He must have been playing for some time before I awakened.
How I was awakened I know not; but something disturbed me, and I
then saw you about to leave the room stealthily. I heard your feet
upon the stairs, and in the next moment I discovered one of your
pistols lying upon the window-sill, just beneath my eyes. This
alarmed me; a thousand apprehensions rushed into my brain; all the
suggestions of strife and bloodshed which my mother had ever told
me, filled my mind; and without knowing exactly what I did or said,
I called out to the musician to fly with all possible speed. He
did so; and after a delay which was to me one of the most cruel
apprehension, you returned in safety. Whether you suspected, and
what, I could not conjecture; but if you had any suspicions of
me, yon did not seem to entertain any of him, for you spoke of him
afterward with the same warm tone of friendship as before.
"That something in my conduct had not pleased you, I could see from
your deportment as we travelled the next morning. You were sad,
and very silent and abstracted. This disappeared, however, and, day
by day, my happiness, my hope, my confidence in you, in myself, in
all things, increased--and I felt assured of realizing that perfect
idea of felicity which I proposed to myself from the moment when
you declared your purpose to emigrate. Were we not happy, husband--so
happy at M----, for weeks, for months--always, morning, noon, and
night--until the reappearance of this false friend of yours? Then,
it seemed to me as if everything changed. Then, that other friend
of yours--who, though he never treated me with aught but respect,
I yet can call no friend of mine--Mr. Kingsley, drew you away
again from your home--carried you with him to his haunts--detained
you late and long, by night and day--and I was left once more
exposed to the free and frequent familiarity of Mr. Edgerton. He
renewed his former habits; his looks were more presuming, and his
attentions more direct and loathsome than ever. More than once
I strove to speak with you on this hateful subject; but it was so
shocking, and you were so fond of him, and I still had my fears! At
length, moved by compassion, you brought him to our house. Blind
and devoted to him--with a blindness and devotion beyond that which
the noblest friendship would deserve, but which renders tenfold
more hateful the dishonest and treacherous person upon whom it is
thrown away--you command me to meet him with kindness--to tend his
bed of sickness--to soothe his moments of sadness and despondency--to
expose myself to his insolence!