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A SAD LOSS
 SUSAN and I believed, on the night our fathers came
back from their journey, that we would set off in the
ship to this village of Charlestown without delay, and
so we might have done but for my Lady Arabella, who
was taken suddenly worse of her sickness; therefore
it was decided to wait until she had gained her health.
But alas! the poor lady had come to this New World
only to die, and it was a sad time indeed for Susan and
me when the word was brought aboard ship that she
had gone out from among us forever.
We had learned during the voyage to love her very
dearly, and it seemed even more of a blow for God to
take her from us in this wilderness, than if she had
been at her home in England.
Although it is not right for me to say so, because,
of course, our fathers know best, yet would my heart
have been less sore if some word of farewell could have
been said when we laid my Lady Arabella in the grave
amid the thicket of fir trees.
Mother says, that she is but repeating the words
of Governor Winthrop, that it is wrong to say prayers
over the dead, or to utter words of grief or faith. Therefore
it was in silence we followed my lady in the coffin
made by the ship's carpenter, up the gentle slope to
 the thicket of firs, the bell of the Arabella tolling all the
while; and in silence we stood, while the body was being
covered with earth, little thinking how soon should we
be doing a like service for another who had come to
aid in building up a new nation.
On the day after we left my Lady Arabella on the
hillside, the ship Talbot, which was one of the vessels
that should have sailed in company with the Arabella,
arrived at Salem, and the grief which filled our hearts
for the dead, was
lightened somewhat by the joy in
greeting the living
who were come to