With reluctance I married him, and my only
regret is, that a slave's fate had not been mine ere the fruits of
that day fell upon me. Women like me make a feeble defence in the
world; and bad husbands are the shame of their sex," she returns,
her eyes brightening with animation, as she endeavours to calm the
excitement her remarks have given rise to: "Don't, pray don't mind
it, uncle," she concludes.
"Such news had been anticipated; but I was cautious not to"--
"Never mind," she interrupts, suddenly coiling her delicate arm
round his neck, and impressing a kiss on his care-worn cheek. "Let
us forget these things; they are but the fruits of weak nature. It
were better to bear up under trouble than yield to trouble's
burdens: better far. Who knows but that it is all for the best?" She
rises, and, with seeming cheerfulness, proceeds to spread the little
table with the refreshing tokens of her friendship. Yielding to
necessity, the table is spread, and they sit down, with an
appearance of domestic quietness touchingly humble.
"There is some pleasure, after all, in having a quiet spot where we
can sit down and forget our cares. Perhaps (all said and done) a man
may call himself prince of his own garret, when he can forget all
beyond it," says Marston affected to tears by Franconia's womanly
resignation.
"Yes," returns Franconia, joyously, "it's a consolation to know that
we have people among us much worse off than we are. I confess,
though, I feel uneasy about our old slaves.
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