The Planters' banner. [volume] (Franklin, Attakapas Co., Lou.) 1849-1872, 1851-09-20

Oh, you are not the only one doubtless
whom he has thus served~
West did not discourage the illusion.
Nay, the enthusiasm of the charming
woman before him was contagious
"Thanks to your fathers disinterested
liberalitv," he resumed, ct am now in
rather prosperous circumstances.
came not merely TO discharge debt;
believe me. il is no common gratitude
I feel! Doubtless you inherit all your
fathers wealth-doubtless it is but lit
tie service can ever hope to render
YOU. Yeti venture to entreat you never
10 forget that you possess one friend OF
absolute devotion, ready at all times
to sacrifice himself in every way to
your wishes and to Your happiness"
West paused abruptly. for the singu-
lar expression of the young lady's fea-
lures filled him with astonishment.
;tYou do not know, then"-She be-
gan.
"Know what 2"
"That lam IA natural child =
she completed with crimson blush,
turning away her head as she spoke,
and covering her face with her hands;
"that am without fortune or relations;
that my poor father died intestate; that
the heir-at-iaw, who lives abroad, and
without those permission nothing can
be done-moFe-over. who Is sad TO De
heartless spendthrift-wlll take all my
father leaves that have but one more
week given me to vacate this house by
the landlord; in short, thatl must work
if would not starve; that, in word.
| am beggarm And the poor girl
sobbed convulsively; whilst Bernard
West, on whom this speech acted as
some terrible hurricane upon the trees
of a tropical forest, tearing up, as 1t
were, by the roots, all the terrible
stoicism of his nature, and rousing
hopes and dreams which he had long
banished to the deepest and most hope
less abysses of his soul whilst Bernard,
we repeat, yentured to take her hand
in his own, and calm her painful aglta-
ton by such suggestions as immedi-
ately occurred to his mind.
ain the first place." he said, "my
dear Miss Brace, come to repay to you
your fathers generous gift"
at belongs to his legal heirs. can
not receive it with honor" said the
money-lender's daughter firmly.
"Not soa' replied West, gravel y; 1t
was free gift to me. repay it by a
natural, not legal obligation ;"-and
he laid two twenty-pound bank notes
upon the table. "Next," he resumed,
Il have to pay debt of gratitnde,-
l owe my life to your father. Thus IN
a manner have become his adopted
| son. Thus" he continued impetuously,
az have right to say 10 you, regard
me as brother; share the produce OF
nv labor: render me happy in the
| thought that am serving the child OF
nv benefactor. To disdain my graft
Jude would be cruel insult"
81 cannot disdain it p exclaimed the
dauo hter of the usurer, with sudden
| impulse of that sublime confidence
which noble and generous soul can
alone inspire. "Yes-l accept your
assisianceW
The face of Bernard Enlightened up,
as if by an electric agent. But how
were they two children of sorrow con-
founded by the discovery that they
were no longer alone, and that their
conversation had been overhead by an
utter stranger, who, leaning against the
wall at the farther end of the room,
near the door, appeared to survey them
with an utter indifference to the pro-
priety of such behavior.
He was a man between forty and
fifty years; great beard and nous
tache concealed the lower part OF a
swarthy but handsome countenance oi
rare dignity and severity of outline
His dress was utterly un-Engllsh. A
vast mantle. with a hood, fell nearly tc
the ground, and he wore huge couriers
boots, which were still splashed, as i
from a journey. His great dark eye:
rested with an expression OF royal be
nevolence upon the young people, to-
wards whom he advanced with cour
teous inclination, that, as if magnetl
cally. represSed Bernard's first indig
naut impulse.
az am the heir-at-law," he said in &
mild voice, as if he had been announo
ing a most agreeable piece OF intelli
gence.
aThen, sir" said Bernard, II trust
aTrust absolutelyw interrupted tht
foreign looking heir, quickly. My
children. do you know who | amy No
/ will tell you. lam a monster, wht
in his youth preferred beauty to ambi
ton, and glory to gold. For ten year
after attaining manhood | struggled on
an outcast from my family, in poverty
| and humiliation, without friends, ane
often without bread. At the end o
| five more years was a great man, an'
those who had neglected. and starve'
and scorned me. came to bow dowl
and worship. But the beauty | ha'
i adored was dust, and the fire of youth
full hope quenohed in the bitter water
of science. For ten years since | hav'
wandered over the earth. am rich
| may say my wealth is boundless, TO
| have but to shake few fancies from
| this brain, to trace few cyphers witt
this hand, and they become gold at m,