The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a not
unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
him.--She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind--he felt
them; threw his arm round her waist--and they enjoyed the luxury of
wretchedness.--As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!--this day will kill
thee, and I shall not die with thee!
This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to--perhaps it
was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
and worse.
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