r child was, to
all intents and purposes, fatherless. In the same letter from which the
above passage is taken, there is this little outburst of maternal
affection:--

"I grow more and more attached to my little girl, and I cherish
this affection with fear, because it must be a long time before it
can become bitterness of soul. She is an interesting creature. On
ship-board how often, as I gazed at the sea, have I longed to bury
my troubled bosom in the less troubled deep; asserting, with
Brutus, 'that the virtue I had followed too far was merely a name!'
and nothing but the sight of her--her playful smiles, which seemed
to cling and twine round my heart--could have stopped me."

It so happened that at one time she was obliged to leave her child with
her nurse for about a month. Business called her to Toensberg in Norway,
and the journey would have been bad for Fanny, who was cutting her teeth.
"I felt more at leaving my child than I thought I should," she wrote to
Imlay, "and whilst at night I imagined every instant that I heard the
half-formed sounds of her voice, I asked myself how I could think of
parting with her forever, of leaving her thus helpless." Here indeed was
a stronger argument against suicide than Christianity or its
"aftershine." This absence stimulated her motherly solicitude and
heightened her sense of responsibility. In her appeals to Imlay to settle
upon his future course in her regard, she now began to dwell upon their
child as the most important reason to keep them together. On the 30th of
July she wrote from Toensberg:--

"I will try to write with a degree of composure. I wish for us to
live together, because I want you to acquire an habitual
tenderness for my poor girl. I cannot bear to think of leaving her
alone in the world, or that she should only be protected by your
sense of duty. Next to preserving her, my most earnest wish is not
to disturb your peace. I have nothing to expect, and little to
fear, in life. There are wounds that can never be healed; but they
may be allowed to fester in silence without wincing."

On the 7th of August she wrote again in the same strain:--

"This state of suspense, my friend, is intolerable; we must
determine on something, and soon; we must meet shortly, or part
forever. I am sensible that I acted foolishly, but I was wretched
when we were together. Expecti