d married
into the aristocracy, the oldest aristocracy of America; and because he
also knew they wished him to marry wealth, he sent them a wife rich in
virtues--native, unspoiled virtues. He hoped that they would take her to
their hearts and cherish her. He knew their firm principles of honour,
and that he could trust them to be kind to his wife until he returned to
share the affection which he was sure would be given to her. It was not
his intention to return to England for some time yet. He had work to
do in connection with his proposed colony; and a wife--even a native
wife--could not well be a companion in the circumstances. Besides,
Lali--his wife's name was Lali!--would be better occupied in learning
the peculiarities of the life in which her future would be cast. It
was possible they would find her an apt pupil. Of this they could
not complain, that she was untravelled; for she had ridden a horse,
bareback, half across the continent. They could not cavil at her
education, for she knew several languages--aboriginal languages--of the
North. She had merely to learn the dialect of English society, and how
to carry with acceptable form the costumes of the race to which she was
going. Her own costume was picturesque, but it might appear unusual in
London society. Still, they could use their own judgment about that.

Then, when she was gone beyond recall, he chanced one day to put on the
coat he wore when the letters and paper declaring his misfortune came to
him. He found his brother's letter; he opened it and read it. It was
the letter of a man who knew how to appreciate at their proper value the
misfortunes, as the fortunes, of life. While Frank Armour read he came
to feel for the first time that his brother Richard had suffered, maybe,
from some such misery as had come to him through Julia Sherwood. It was
a dispassionate, manly letter, relieved by gentle wit, and hinting with
careful kindness that a sudden blow was better for a man than a lifelong
thorn in his side. Of Julia Sherwood he had nothing particularly bitter
to say. He delicately suggested that she had acted according to her
nature, and that in the see-saw of life Frank had had a sore blow;
but this was to be borne. The letter did not say too much; it did
not magnify the difficulty, it did not depreciate it. It did not even
directly counsel; it was wholesomely, tenderly judicial. Indirectly, it
dwelt upon the steadiness and manliness of Frank's character;