Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the artist’s wife’s mother, —­ but then I looked upon the whole address as a mystification, intended especially for myself.  I made up my mind, of course, that the box and contents would never get farther north than the studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers Street, New York.

For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the wind was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, immediately upon our losing sight of the coast.  The passengers were, consequently, in high spirits and disposed to be social.  I must except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, and, I could not help thinking, uncourteously to the rest of the party.  Wyatt’s conduct I did not so much regard.  He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit —­ in fact he was morose —­ but in him I was prepared for eccentricity.  For the sisters, however, I could make no excuse.  They secluded themselves in their staterooms during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with any person on board.

Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable.  That is to say, she was chatty; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea.  She became excessively intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my profound astonishment, evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet with the men.  She amused us all very much.  I say “amused"- and scarcely know how to explain myself.  The truth is, I soon found that Mrs. W. was far oftener laughed at than with.  The gentlemen said little about her; but the ladies, in a little while, pronounced her “a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent looking, totally uneducated, and decidedly vulgar.”  The great wonder was, how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match.  Wealth was the general solution- but this I knew to be no solution at all; for Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any expectations from any source whatever.  “He had married,” he said, “for love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than worthy of his love.”  When I thought of these expressions, on the part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled.  Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses?  What else could I think?  He, so refined, so intellectual, so fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so keen an appreciation of the beautiful!  To be sure, the lady seemed especially fond of him-particularly so in his absence —­ when she made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been said by her “beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt.”  The word “husband” seemed forever —­ to use one of her own delicate expressions- forever “on the tip of her tongue.”  In the meantime, it was observed by all on board, that he avoided her in the most pointed manner, and, for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state-room, where, in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the public society of the main cabin.