Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
“No, madam,” cried Booth, “it must have been conveyed by some other
channel; for my Amelia, I am certain, was entirely ignorant of the
manner; and as for poor Atkinson, I am convinced he would not have
ventured to take such a step without acquainting me. Besides, the poor
fellow had, I believe, such a regard for my wife, out of gratitude for
the favours she hath done his mother, that I make no doubt he was highly
rejoiced at her absence from my melancholy scene. Well, whoever writ it
is a matter very immaterial; yet, as it seemed so odd and unaccountable
an incident, I could not help mentioning it.
“From the time of Amelia’s arrival nothing remarkable happened till my
perfect recovery, unless I should observe her remarkable behaviour, so
full of care and tenderness, that it was perhaps without a parallel.”
“O no, Mr. Booth,” cries the lady; “it is fully equalled, I am sure,
by your gratitude. There is nothing, I believe, so rare as gratitude in
your sex, especially in husbands. So kind a remembrance is, indeed, more
than a return to such an obligation; for where is the mighty obligation
which a woman confers, who being possessed of an inestimable jewel, is
so kind to herself as to be careful and tender of it? I do not say this
to lessen your opinion of Mrs. Booth. I have no doubt but that she loves
you as well as she is capable. But I would not have you think so meanly
of our sex as to imagine there are not a thousand women susceptible of
true tenderness towards a meritorious man. Believe me, Mr. Booth, if I
had received such an account of an accident having happened to such a
husband, a mother and a parson would not have held me a moment. I should
have leapt into the first fishing-boat I could have found, and bid
defiance to the winds and waves.--Oh! there is no true tenderness but in
a woman of spirit. I would not be understood all this while to reflect
on Mrs. Booth. I am only defending the cause of my sex; for, upon
my soul, such compliments to a wife are a satire on all the rest of
womankind.”
“Sure you jest, Miss Matthews,” answered Booth with a smile; “however,
if you please, I will proceed in my story.”
Chapter vii.
_The captain, continuing his story, recounts some particulars which, we
doubt not, to many good people, will appear unnatural._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account