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.
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