UNCLE TOM'S CABIN

" he
to
but
60 UNCLE TOM S CABIN : CR,
A"VU" me was a Huguenot French lady,whose
fanaijhad emigrated to Louisiana during the
days t. '.'its early settlement. Augustine and
"
"
another, brother were the onlychildren of their
parentii Having inherited from his mother an
too late. I believed
"
I have received yours,
exceedis. $ delicacyof constitution, he was, at the
all I heard. I was desperateỊ am married,
instance af physicians, during many years of his and all is over. Onlyforget, it is allthat
boyhoodsent to the care of his uncle in Vermont,
remains for either of us."
in order that his constitution might be And thus ended the whole romance and ideal
strength, by the cold of a more bracingclimate.
of life for AugustineSt. Clare. But the real
remained," the real, like the flat,bare, oozy tidemud,
In childhood,he was remarkable for an extreme
when the blue sparkling wave, with all its
and marked sensitiveness of character,more akin company of gliding boats and white-winged ships,
to the softness of woman than the ordinary its music of oars and chimingwaters, has gone
of his own sex. Time, however, overgrew
this softness with the
rough bark of manhood,
and but few knew how livingand fresh it still
lay at the core. His talents were of the very first
the hour that comes onlyonce ; his star rose in
the
star that rises so often in
"
horizon, that
vain,to be remembered only as a thing of dreams ; weave again into a tissue of brightness. But
and it rose for him in vain. To drop the figure, Marie St. Clare could not even see that theyhad
saw and won the love of a high-mindedand been broken. As before stated șhe consistedof
beautiful woman, in one of the northern states, a fine figure, a pairof splendideyes,
and a hundred
and theywere affianced. He returned south to thousand dollars ; and none of these items
make arrangements for their marriage,when, were precisely the ones to minister to a mind
most unexpectedly,his letterswere returned to diseased.
him by mail,with a short note from her guardian, When Augustine,pale as death,was found
Btating to him that ere this reached him the lady lying on the sofa,and pleadedsudden sick-headache
would be the wife of another. Stung to madness,
as the cause of his distresș she recommended
he vainlyhoped, as
many another has done, to to him to smell of hartshorn ; and when the paleness
fling the whole tilingfrom his heart by one desperate
and headache came on week afterweek, she
effort. Too proud to supplicate or seek only said that she never thoughtMr. St. Clare
explanation, he threw himself at once into a was sickly ; but it seems he was very
liable to
whirl of fashionable society, and in a fortnight sick-headaches, and that it was a very
unfortunate
from the time of the fatal letter was the accepted thingfor her,because he didn't enjoygoing
lover of the reigning belle of the season ; and as into company with her,and it seemed odd to go
soon as arrangements could be made, he became so much alone,when they were just married.
the husband of a fine figure, a pairof bright dark Augustinewas glad in his heart that he had
eyes, and a hundred thousand dollars ; and, of married so undiscerning a woman ; but as the
course, everybodythoughthim a happyfellow. glosses and civilities of the honeymoon wore
The married couplewere enjoyingtheir honeymoon,
away, he discovered that a beautiful young
woman,
and entertaining a brilliantcircleof friends who has lived all her lifeto be caressed and
in their splendidvilla,
waited on, mightprove quitea hard mistress in
near Lake Pontchar train,
when, one day,a letter was broughtto him in
that well-remembered writing. It was handed to
him while he was in full tide of gay and successful
conversation,in a whole room-full of company,
lie turned deadlypalewhen he saw the writing,
but still preserved his composure,
and finished
the playfulwarfare of badinage which he was at
the moment carryingon with a ladyopposite ;
and,a short time after,was missed from the circle.
In his room, alone,he openedand read the
letter,- now worse than idle and useless to be
read. It was from her,giving a longaccount of
a persecutian to which she had been exposedby
her guardian's familyțo lead her to unite herself
with their son ; and she related how, for a
long time,his lettershad ceased to arrive ; how
she had written time and again țillshe became
weary and doubtful ; how her health had failed
under her anxieties, and how, at last șhe had
discovered the whole fraud which had been practised
on them both. The letter ended with
expressionsof hope and thankfulness, and
pio
fessionsof undyingaffection,which were more
bitter than death to the unhappy young man.
He wrote to her immediately :
down, and there it lies,flat,slimy,bare," exceedingly
real.
Of course, in a novel,people's hearts break,
"
"
and theydie,and that is the end of it ; and in a
order,althoughhis mind showed a preferencestory very convenient. But in real life
alwaysfor the ideal and the aesthetic, and there we do not die when all that makes life bright
was about him that repugnance to the actual dies to us. There is a most busy and important
business of lifewhich is the common result of round of eating,drinking, dressing,walking,visiting,
this balance of the faculties. Soon after the buying,selling, talking, reading,and all
completion of his college course, his whole nature that makes up what is commonly called living,
was kindled into one intense and passionateeffervescenceyet
gone through; and this yetremained to
of romantic passion. His hour came, Augustine. Had his wife been a whole woman,
she mightyet have done something as woman
can
"
mend the broken threads of life,and
domestic life. Marie never had possessed much
capability of affection, or much sensibility, and
the littlethat she had,had been merged into a
most intense and unconscious selfishness ; a selfishness
the more hopeless, from its quietobtuseness,
its utter ignorance of any claims but aer
own. From her infancyșhe had been surrounded
with servants, who lived only to study het caprices
; the idea that they had either feeling j or
rightshad never dawned upon her,even in distant
perspective. Her father,whose onlychild
she had been, had never denied her anything
that lay within the compass of human possibility;
and when she entered life,beautiful, accomplished,
and an heiressșhe had,of course, ail the
eligibles and non-eligibles of the other sex sighing
at her feet,and she had no doubt that Augustine
was a most fortunate man in having obtained
her. It is a great mistake to suppose that a
woman with no heart will be an 'iisy creditorin
the exchangeof affection. There is not on earth