Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow; should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she thought, and insensibly grew more calm.  The Ladies prevailed on her to spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and waited for the dreaded to-morrow.

CHAP.  XVIII.

The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the Custom-house.  Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the females her internal struggles.  She durst not encounter Henry’s glances when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to laugh she could not stop herself.

Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and, the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained silent a few moments:  after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.  Henry began.  “You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is not in a state to be left to its own operations—­yet I cannot, dissuade you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to merit.  I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step might endanger your future peace.”

Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained her situation to him and mentioned her fatal tie with such disgust that he trembled for her.  “I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me to love!” Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry.  Did she not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some remote corner to have escaped from him.

“I intend,” said Henry, “to follow you in the next packet; where shall I hear of your health?” “Oh! let me hear of thine,” replied Mary.  “I am well, very well; but thou art very ill—­thy health is in the most precarious state.”  She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann’s relations.  “I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:  during my voyage I have time enough for reflection; though I think I have already determined.”

“Be not too hasty, my child,” interrupted Henry; “far be it from me to persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings—­but consider that all thy future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of conduct.  Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present:  the object you now shun may appear in a different light.”  He paused.  “In advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary.”