The true Democrat., 1854-11-01
MO-. 3.

steadfast in her fidelity to you, as long as there was the least hope of your return. At length, at the solicitation of her father, she ceased to nope, and truly mourned you as lost. When she put off the weeds of widowhood, she yield ca to my lmportunity, and we were married. She aoasyour wite-she is no,o mine. respect your rlghts-l lament your misfortune, and I will do you no wrong. She shall choose be. tween us, and let him, that shall be disappont- ed, depart Tn peace. will account with you the value of your property which came to my hands, you allowing what I bestowed upon your children, as their right; and if I have faithfully discharged to your wife and chil- dren the obligations of husband and parent, I think you cannot under the circumstances complain"
 The Merchant listened with attention to this discourse, and though deploring the alterna- tion, to which he must be subjected, he was compelled to acknowledge that no man could act more nobly than Pierre, and, with hesita- tion he gave his assent.
 "And now, my beloved Melane," resumed Pierre, it is for you to determine between us. If you pronounce in favor of your first hus- band, l have no reproach for you; but as you have made me dutiful wife, will bestow upon you my blessing and depart. If you choose me, l shall still regard you as ever have with unmingled affection.''
 "My husband,' replied Melanie, "I am in straits and know not what to do You have both been kind husbands to me- and must be allow ed some days in which to make upmy mind when I have resolved, 1 will make known to you my determination"
 The captive Merchant now divided his stay between his wife and children, and as all treat ed him with affection, and endeavored to alle- vlate his sorrows, except that his future desti- ny was uncertain, he felt comparatively happy. Melanie, meanwhile, was endeavoriqg to deter mine in her own mind to which husband she should cling, but the more she reflected, the greater the number of difficulties that present. ed themselves. Atlength she appointed aday, against which she should make up her resolve, but when the day arrived, she was still unde- termined. Her husbands, her children were all assembled to learn her decision, and she felt it incumbent upon her no longer to hold them in suspense.
 "My husbands" said she, addressing them " 1 have honestly endeavored to make up my mind to decide between you, but am in hones- ty compelled to declare that up to this mo- ment, l hardly know what to determine. You Marc, were my first husband-you were ever dutiful and affectionate to me- and though you left me contrary to my wish, and against my importunities, yet, you went in obedience to your sense of duty. You periled your liberty, and your llfe-for my advantage, and with a perfect knowledge of your peril. This act of selt-devoton endeared you the more to my heart, and could 1 have entertained the most distant hope of your final restoration to me, no consideration, on earth, could have swerved me from my duty toward you. But after an absence of three long years, without one word of tidings from you, how could hope? Must I then devote my life to widowhood? Reason seemed to say, no. Pierre importuned me to marry, and my father not only favored his pre- tensions, but bade me relinquish hope that must end in despair.-You, Pierre, have been a kind and indulgent husband to me, and if ever man could supply the place of the husband l had lost, and enlist the full measure of the affection had entertained for him, you are that man. Between you then, there is but lit tie difference, except, that one was flrst and the other second husband. But by my first husband have two children, by my second 1 have ive-if they are any argument, they would seem to determine in favor of the last. I must then elect to remain with Pierre. And you Marc, 1 beg you will not reproach me for the choice I have made-having long regarded you as dead 1t is no wonder l should feel a strong attachment to the man, who, in your stead, has made me good husband, and just and kind father to your children.
 The man of sorrows seemed much moved at her determination, but taking his pen he wrote -"I blame you not, my Melanie In obedience to your choice resign all my pretenslons and l will not disturb your felicity by my presence. Leaving my blessing with you and my children, I go to Eugland where l shall spend the re- mainder of my days. Fate seems to have cast my nativity beneath an evil star, and l must submit in resignation to my lotH
 The husbands now employed their time in settling their accounts, and the son. having de- ternined to accompany the father, they in due time departed and England thenceforward be- came their home.
 0LF A day or two since, says the Richmond Dispatch, servant man belonging to Robert Ali