"You say you read my letter, auntie; and if you did, you know nearly all
that made me go away. I do not remember now just what was in it, but I
know it was very concise, and plain, and literal; for I was angry when I
wrote it, and would not spare Richard a bit. But, oh! I had been so
tired and so wretched. You can't guess half how wretched I was at the
farmhouse first, where they were all so different, and where one of the
greatest terrors was lest I should get used to it and so be more like
them. I mean Richard's mother, auntie. I liked the others--they were
kind and good; especially Andy. Oh, Andy! dear old Andy! I have thought
of him so much during the last five years, and bad as I am I have prayed
every night that he would not forget me.
"Aunt Barbara, I did not love Richard, and that was my great mistake. I
ought not to have married him, but I was so sore and unhappy then that
any change was a relief. I do not see now how I ever could have loved
Frank; but I did, or thought I did, and was constantly contrasting
Richard with him and making myself more miserable. If I had loved
Richard things would have been so much easier to bear. I was beginning
to love him, and life was so much pleasanter, when he got so angry about
Frank and charged me with those dreadful things, driving me frantic and
making me feel as if I hated him and could do much to worry him. Don't
look so shocked. I know how wicked it was, and sometimes I fear God
never can forgive me; but I did not think of him then. I forgot
everything but myself and my trouble, and so I went away, going first to
----, so as to mislead Richard, and then turning straight back to
New York.
"Do you remember Abby Jackson, who was at school in Boston, and who once
spent a week with me here? She married, and lives in New York, and
believes in women's rights and wears the Bloomer dress. She would take
my part, I said, and I went at once to her house and told her all I had
done, and asked if I could stay until I found employment. Aunt Barbara,
this is a queer world, and there are queer people in it. I thought I was
sure of Abby, she used to protest so strongly against the tyranny of
men, and say she should like nothing better than protecting females who
were asserting their own rights. I was asserting mine, and I went to her
for sympathy. She was glad to see me at first, and petted and fondled me
just as she used to do at school. She was five years older than I, and
so I looked up to her. But when I told my story her manner changed, and
it really seemed as if she looked upon me as a suspicious person who had
done something terrible. She advocated women's rights as strongly as
ever, but could not advise me to continue in my present course. It would
bring odium upon me, sure. A woman separated from her husband was always
pointed at, no matter what cause she had for the separation. It was all
wrong, she urged, that public opinion should be thus, and ere long she
trusted there would be a change. Till then I would do well to return to
Iowa and make it up with Richard. That was what she said, and it made me
very angry, so that I was resolved to leave her the next day; but I was
sick in the morning, and sick some weeks following, so that I could not
leave her house.