" When I thought of these expressions, on the
part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled.
Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses? What
else could I think? HE, so refined, so intellectual, so
fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so
keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be sure, the lady seemed
especially fond of HIM--particularly so in his absence--when she
made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been
said by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband"
seemed forever--to use one of her own delicate expressions--forever
"on the tip of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by
all on board, that he avoided HER in the most pointed manner, and,
for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state-room, where,
in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his
wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the
public society of the main cabin.
My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that, the artist, by
some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of
enthusiastic and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite
himself with a person altogether beneath him, and that the natural
result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued.
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