Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 16
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 16
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
I was now able to leave my cot for a short time, but not the cabin. The
young widow was ever by my side, to minister to my wants. I felt much
for her sorrows, which she bore with pious resignation; but I had no
power to minister to her comforts as my gratitude prompted me, when I
observed her, as I lay in my cot, weeping in silence, when she thought
me asleep. It was the third day after I was picked up, as I sat in the
cabin, and felt myself much recovered, that I gave her an account of my
leaving home, and my adventures since. She sat and listened with
interest, and seemed much affected by my account of my friend, James
Walden. She sighed heavily as I proceeded, and her tears fell fast. When
I mentioned his untimely death, she uttered a piercing cry, and fell
insensible upon the floor. I cried loudly for help; and her servant and
the captain, who were on deck, came quickly to my aid. After some time
she recovered, but was so ill that she was forced to be put to bed by
her maid. Her mind seemed quite unsettled by what I had said of my
friend's death; for she spoke strangely and incoherently, unconscious of
what she uttered; often repeating, "James, I shall never see you more.
How could I hope? I wished, but dared not hope, humbled as I was--yet
frown not on me so; I am more to be pitied than hated." Thus she
continued during the greater part of the day.
Towards evening, she became more composed, but was so ill that she could
not leave the state-room without the support of her servant, which she
did contrary to the remonstrances of the captain; only replying--
"What is life now to me but a dreary blank? O that I were at rest under
these rolling waves! O Mr Elder! have you strength to tell me all you
know of James before my heart bursts?"
I could myself have wept; but her eyes were dry, yet heavy and languid;
her face pale as marble, with a ghastly composure upon it, more
heart-moving than clamorous grief. Again I went over every circumstance,
and concluded by regretting the prayer-book, as the only article I
valued, left on board. She heard me the second time without altering a
muscle of her face. When I finished, she said--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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