, 1862-04-03
First and Third Marriage.

| again to be separated until DEATH"
The weeping wife could not be comforted. II
was hard that, so soon after her marriage, when
the world seemed so bright and gay, and when
wealth and fortune smiled 50 serenely upon her,
all should be swept away, and she left, like a
lone widow, to protect herself The husband
was almost distracted with the thought Of leav-
lug her. His heart had been hoand up in his
beautiful nOrtensc. She had been his idol from
bOyhood-the bright dream OF his existence
and when he had attained the distinction Of one
Of the merchant princes Of Montreal, he married
her, and placed her in the very heart Of luxury.
Misfortunes came IN swift wings to the happy
pair. One BY one bis possessions LEFT him, and,
worse than that, others were involved In his af.
fairs, who were less able to lose than himself.
He could not look upon the ruin Of those around
him for he had kind heart, and would not
wrong any one for the world. They that lost
by his III fortune admitted that N. Valentin was
a strictly honest man; and that is great praise
from those who are injured by q mans ill.luck.
People are but too apt to call Il dishonesty.
There was but single bright spot before N.
ValeLtin. Australia cleaned up, warm and
golden, and with desperation born Of love to
his wife and justice to his creditors, he secretly
embarked for the land Of promise. There was
q nine days wonder as to where he was gone, and
to what purpose and then he died out Of the
W. u
he had been dead and buried.
The weeping Hortense removed to another 10.
cality; the iashiOnables who had strained every
nerve to get invited to the house Of the rich
merchant, never paused to ask after his wife; and
lonely and miserable, without friends or relatives,
HOrtense dropped aud pned, until the beauty
which her husband so praised was changed into
dimness She never heard from N. Vaentin.
No single word had ever cheered her solitude
since he left her. As month after month dragged
its slow weight along, and no tidings reached her.
her heart utterly sunk within her. and she be
lieved him dead. What, indeed, could she think
II was better to think SO than to believe him
unmindful Of her, and day after day she watered
his mrmnry with tears Of genuine sorrow, as
one sorrows for the beloved dead.
She put on the deepest mourning, kept her
room for months, and when she finally went out
again, and that only to church, her sorrow was
written plainly in the face, which, Il II had lost
some Of its beauty, was yet most deeply inter
estng. So at least thought the young Eugene
Stansbury, an Englishnan Of unblemished char
acter and prosperous business. He saw her at
church, devised some ingenious expedient to be
introduced, and begged the privilege Of waiting
upon her. The lady pleaded her inability to
entertain company, the improperly Of her re-
ceIving gentlemen, q thousand reasons why he
should hot visit her.
lie Overruled them all, besought her to waive
all ceremony with him, to consider him as deeply
attached friend, brother, anything, IN short, If
he might be permitted to See her sometimes
and IOrtense, weary Of her monot0nous and
dreary life, at last consented.
Once having renewed the delicious conscious.
ness Of protecting presence, she found il bard
to give it up for the mere punctilliOus fear Of
what the world would say Of her. Indeed, she
had at., k.lr. kan .ln nn,.lA
and parted from it. She owed it no favor. 1t
had no right to criticise her conduct Thus she
reasoned while listening to Eugene's lmpassioned
entreatirs that she would lay aside her sorrow
for the dead, and become bis wife.
Still she hesitated. She truly believed in her
husbands death for would he not have written
had he been living! OF the many letters she
had written him, the many inquiries she bad in.
stituted, no answer could be obtained. No one
knew anything Of III. Valentin.
In an hour Of more than usual loneliness and
trouble, she whispered to herself that, should
Eugene press bis suit anew, she would consent
to marry him. She liked him. She was weary
| Of her own life, Gagged and cribbed as she was
she longei for freedom from the restraint that
poverty and widowhOod were constantly inpos-
ing upon her; and all these combined operated
wonderfully in Eugene's favor. The marriage
was strictly private; and half Of Stansbury's
friends had no suspicion that she had ever mar.
red u al until she became his wife.
lie took her to pleasant home, as comforta.
BILE, it not qu te as luxurious, as the one she had
shared with NJ. Nalenun; and all that she could
ask for vas showered upon her with generous
proiusion. Their dwelling, two or three miles
from the heart Of Montreal, was surrounded with
trees and towering shrubs Of every description.
In ide, there was every comfort that living
heart could suggest The heart OF llOrteRsc
awOke to life, to love, to h1ppiness; and to SEE
her thus, rejoced that Of her husband.
Two years Of almost unmingled bliss went by;
but the third year commenced with some alarm
for the health Of Eugene. Twice had HOrtense
sen him draw q handkerchief from his lips
which was STEPPED in blood and often his nights
were passed in coughing until nature was exhaust
! ed, aud the morning sleep found him drenched
in the terrible sweats which so surely portend
consumption. llortense struggled agaInst this
new aud terrible sorrow. Il wSs the first time
that she had seen the effects Of this insidious
disease and hope and fear alternated in her
breast, until at length she hoped against all hope,
and the blow came down upon her all the harder
that she had not schOoled herself to feel its ap-
prOach.
Il was hard to sec him parting with the mute
evidences Of his brief happiness. Every win
dow where he had sat with her, every arbOr
where they had rested, every tree under whose
shades hey had walked, OF whose trunk he had
carved with her name, all received q farewell
look.
How can I part with you, 1earest?" he
asked, after bis painful journey round the rooms
and the garden.
Eugene! do not name IT," she said; you
will break my heart"
But you must hear Il, HOrtense; cannot
stay with you long. Thank Heaven that leave
you above UanL Promise me, deaF, that you
viii never leays this home. Trust ne, vii be
With you In spirit when the IOFm b laid In the
earth; watching gaarding, q possible, speaking
N Vuu"