If he were mad, it was the consequence, and not
the cause, of an aimless and abortive life.
The widow was as complete a contrast to her third bridegroom, in
everything but age, as can well be conceived. Compelled to
relinquish her first engagement, she had been united to a man of twice
her own years, to whom she became an exemplary wife, and by whose
death she was left in possession of a splendid fortune. A southern
gentleman, considerably younger than herself, succeeded to her hand,
and carried her to Charleston, where, after many uncomfortable
years, she found herself again a widow. It would have been singular,
if any uncommon delicacy of feeling had survived through such a life
as Mrs. Dabney's; it could not but be crushed and killed by her
early disappointment, the cold duty of her first marriage, the
dislocation of the heart's principles, consequent on a second union
and the unkindness of her southern husband, which had inevitably
driven her to connect the idea of his death with that of her
comfort. To be brief, she was that wisest, but unloveliest, variety of
woman, a philosopher, bearing troubles of the heart with equanimity,
dispensing with all that should have been her happiness, and making
the best of what remained.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16