r some time motionless, holding it in my
hand. {361} The day-dream in which I had been a little time before
indulging, of marrying Isopel Berners, of going with her to America, and
having by her a large progeny, who were to assist me in felling trees,
cultivating the soil, and who would take care of me when I was old, was
now thoroughly dispelled. Isopel had deserted me, and was gone to
America by herself, where, perhaps, she would marry some other person,
and would bear him a progeny, who would do for him what in my dream I had
hoped my progeny by her would do for me. Then the thought came into my
head that though she was gone I might follow her to America, but then I
thought that if I did I might not find her; America was a very large
place, and I did not know the port to which she was bound; but I could
follow her to the port from which she had sailed, and there possibly
discover the port to which she was bound; but then I did not even know
the port from which she had set out, for Isopel had not dated her letter
from any place. Suddenly it occurred to me that the post-mark on the
letter would tell me from whence it came, so I forthwith looked at the
back of the letter, and in the post-mark read the name of a well-known
and not very distant sea-port. I then knew with tolerable certainty the
port where she had embarked, and I almost determined to follow her, but I
almost instantly determined to do no such thing. Isopel Berners had
abandoned me, and I would not follow her; "perhaps," whispered Pride, "if
I overtook her, she would only despise me for running after her"; and it
also told me pretty roundly that, provided I ran after her, whether I
overtook her or not, I should heartily despise myself. So I determined
not to follow Isopel Berners; I took her lock of hair, and looked at it,
then put it in her letter, which I folded up and carefully stowed away,
resolved to keep both for ever, but I determined not to follow her. Two
or three times, however, during the day I wavered in my determination,
and was again and again almost tempted to follow her, but every
succeeding time the temptation was fainter. In the evening I left the
dingle, and sat down with Mr. Petulengro and his family by the door of
his tent. Mr. Petulengro soon began talking of the letter which I had
received in the morning. "Is it not from Miss Berners, brother?" said
he. I told him it was. "Is she coming back, brother?" "Never," said I;
"sh