If Clara's husband had been in every respect worthy of her she would have been one of the best and happiest of human beings, but her good qualities were lost on him; and, though he might have made a very good husband to a woman of ordinary capacity, to Clara he became a tyrant.
Sensible of the impossibility of her leaving him, he took it for granted that she bestowed on another those sentiments he could not hope to awaken himself. Yet Clara never deceived him. There is in her character a proud frankness which renders her averse to, and unfit for intrigue. When at the Cape, she was not dazzled by splendor, though it courted her acceptance; nor could the ill-treatment of her husband force her to seek a refuge from it in the arms of a lover who had the means of protecting her. At St. Jago his conduct became more insupportable, and when at length she fled from his house, alone and friendless, she was unseduced by love, but impelled by a repugnance for her husband which had reached its height, and could no longer be resisted.
Delivered from the weight of this oppressive sentiment, she now enjoys a delightful tranquillity, which even the thought of many approaching struggles with difficulty and distress, cannot disturb.
In such a situation I am more than ever necessary to my sister; and, perhaps, it is the consciousness of this, that has given birth to many of the sentiments expressed in this letter.
We have learned that St. Louis sailed from the city of Santo Domingo to France, from which I hope he may never return.
Clara and myself will leave this for Philadelphia, in the course of the ensuing week. There I hope we shall meet you; and if I can only infuse into your bosom those sentiments for my sister which glow so warmly in my own, she will find in you a friend and a protector, and we may still be happy.
THE END.