Ward had only been married a short time, but the period, short as it was, proved long enough to bring a sad disappointment of his worldly hopes. He had been employed as a gentleman’s gardener for many years, and had been able, by strict economy, to lay up a little money. But soon after his, marriage, through some slight misunderstanding he lost his place, and had not since been able to obtain any thing more than transient employment, the return from which had, so far, proved inadequate to the maintenance of himself and wife, requiring him to draw steadily upon the not very large fund that was deposited in the Savings’ Bank.
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.”
“Lizzy,” said Thomas Ward, suddenly growing calm, and speaking slowly and with marked emphasis—”I’ve decided upon going to America. If you will go with me, as a loving and obedient wife should, I shall be glad of your company; but if you prefer to remain here, I shall lay no commands upon you. Will you or will you not go? Say at a word.”
Lizzy had a spice of independence about her, as well as a good share of pride. The word “obedience,” as applied to a wife, had never accorded much with her taste, and the use of it made on the present occasion by her husband was particularly offensive to her. So she replied, without pausing to reflect—”I have already told you that I am not going to America.”
“Very well, Lizzy,” replied Thomas, in a voice that was considerably softened, “I leave you to your own choice, notwithstanding the vow you made on that happy morning. My promise was to love you and to keep you in sickness and in health, but though I may love you as well in old England as in a far-off country, I cannot perform that other promise so well. So I must e’en leave you with my heart’s best blessing, and a pledge that you shall want for no earthly comfort while I have a hand to work.”
And saying this, Thomas Ward left the presence of his wife, and started forth to walk and to think. On his return, he found Lizzy sitting by the window with her hands covering her face, and the tears making their way through her fingers. He said nothing, but he had a hope that she would change her mind and go with him when the time came. In a little while Lizzy was able to control herself, and move silently about her domestic duties; but her husband looked into her face for some sign of a relenting purpose, and looked in vain.
On the next day, Ward said to his wife—”I’ve engaged my passage in the Shamrock, that sails from Liverpool for New York in a week.”
Lizzy started, and a slight shiver ran through; her body; but a cold “Very well” was the only reply she made.
“I will leave twenty pounds in the Savings’ Bank for you to draw out as you need. Before that is gone, I hope to be able to send you more money.”
Lizzy made no answer to this, nor did she display any feeling, although, as she afterwards owned, she felt as if she would have sunk through the floor, and sorely repented having said that she would not go with her husband to America.
The week that intervened between that time and the sailing of the Shamrock passed swiftly away. Lizzy wished a hundred times that her husband would refer to his intended voyage across the sea, and ask her again if she would not go with him. But Thomas Ward had no more to say upon the subject. At least as often as three times had his wife refused to accompany him to a land where there was plenty of work and good wages, and he was firm in his resolution not to ask her again.
As the time approached nearer and nearer, Lizzy’s heart sank lower and lower in her bosom; still she cherished all possible justifying reasons for her conduct, and sometimes had bitter thoughts against her husband. She called him, in her mind, arbitrary and tyrannical, and charged him with wishing to make her the mere slave of his will. As for Ward he also indulged in mental criminations, and tried his best to believe that Lizzy had no true affection for him, that she was selfish, self-willed, and the dear knows what all.
