About once a fortnight Thomas would become completely discouraged, and then he invariably introduced his favourite project of going to America; but Lizzy always met him when in this mood with a decided negative, as far as she was concerned and sometimes went so far as to say, when he grew rather warm on the subject—­“It’s no use to talk about it, Thomas; I shall never go to America, that’s decided.”

This, instead of being a settler, as Lizzy supposed it would be, only proved a silencer.  Thomas would instantly waive all present reference to the subject.  But the less he talked, the more he thought about the land of plenty beyond the ocean; and the oftener Lizzy said she would never go to America, the more earnest became his desire to go, and the more fully formed his resolution to emigrate while possessed the ability to do so.  He did not like Lizzy’s mode of silencing him when he talked about his favourite theme.  He had certain primitive notions about a wife’s submission of herself to her husband, and it not only fretted him, but made him a little resolute on the subject of going to America when Lizzy declared herself determined not to go.

One day Ward came home with brows knit more closely than usual, and a firmer and more decided expression upon his tightly-closed lips.

“What’s the matter now, Thomas?” asked his wife.

The “now” indicated that Thomas had something to trouble him, more or less, nearly all the time.

“The matter is, that I’m going to America!” returned Ward, in an angry tone of voice.  “If you won’t wish to go, you will only have to stay where you are.  But I’ve made up my mind to sail in the next ship.”

Ward had never spoken to his young wife in such harsh, angry, rebuking tone of voice since they were married.  But the import of what he said was worse than his manner of saying it.  Going to America—­and going whether she chose to go with him or remain behind!  What was this less than desertion?  But Lizzy had pride and firmness as tell as acute sensibilities.  The latter she controlled by means of the former, and, with unexpected coolness, replied—­“Well, Thomas, if you wish to leave me, I have nothing to say.  As to that savage country, I say now only what I have said before—­I cannot go.”

“Very well; I am not going to stay here and starve.”

“We haven’t starved yet, Thomas,” spoke up Lizzy.

“No, thanks to my prudence in saving every dollar I could spare while a bachelor!  But we’re in a fair way for it now.  Every week we are going behindhand, and if we stay here much longer we shall neither have the means of living nor getting away.  I’ve finished my job, and cannot get another stroke to do.”

“Something will turn up, Thomas; don’t be impatient.”

“Impatient!” ejaculated Ward.

“Yes, impatient, Thomas,” coolly said his wife.  “You are in a very strange way.  Only wait a little while, and all will come right.”