The Planters' banner. [volume] (Franklin, Attakapas Co., Lou.) 1849-1872, 1851-12-27

try to New York, and called at you
lodgings. You had just left, and n
one could tell where. He returned
Boston, and sailed to Europe, to forge
if possible, in distant land, that h
ever loved you. 'Oh! Mary, why di
you not tell me all this before. Dea
Edward. would to God could see you
and then I should be willing to die'-
Edward, | never saw such grief as her
when she heard my story. She EN-
braced me with the kindest love, an,
wept in a wild paroxysm of grief Ed
ward, pity you; but you may be abl,
to bear up under this. But poor Fran
ces-her heart is broken. Where i
the vile wretch | asked, 'who hat
practiced this wanton deception q
cannot tell you. After importuning me-
for months unsuccessfulIy, he left the
village and has not been heard o
since'
"'It was late that night before We
touched our pillows, and such night
pray | may never see again. 1t was q
night | shall long remember. have
remained with Frances till now, ant
shall continue with her till You return
and oh brother, | need not tell you
to fly to America. Frances is now
calm, and hope has begun 10 she'd its
beams upon her soul. But still. | fear,
she cannot recover from the shock
She is more cheerful, and has regained
some of her elasticity and bloom She
lives in expectation of seeing you once
more. Oh! then fly, my dear brother,
and may God send you quickly to your
broken-hearted Frances You will find
in this packet letter from her.
"I seized the remaining letter which
I had supposed was from my sister, and
found it was only superscribed by her
it was from Frances. 1t was brief. but
it told more than tongues or words can
tell
"Oh! Edward, this is a crushing
blow. If prayers could avail, should
tonight be In your arms. Months of
agony and gloom had passed away, and
was preparing to die. But, oh God,
let me live long enough to behold his
face once more. Why have we been
called to suffer all this. II is all dark
But let Us submit to it. And, OH can
we hope? Yes, Edward, we will yet
meet again, and then one hour, will
atone for it all. But should it prove
that we have already seen each other
for the last time, when yon lie down to
die console yourself with the thought
that Frances loved you better than the
whole world to the last But | will not
die till you come. Oh! then haste,
dear. dear Edward, to your own heart
broken FRANCES.
a'P. S.-Mary has told you all in her
letter.
IF. when l had finished reading
these letter, had been toll that for
thousand years | was TO indure the
fearful tortures of the inquisition |
should not have felt as | felt then
Burning revenge toward the tiend who
had broken into the bower of our early
love only to Destroy wild desire to
the breadth of the Atlantic
in an hour-the awful fear that she
would die before reached her. all
burst in one tremendous wave over me.
But it was not time now for thought,
but for execution. In one hour was
on my way to Paris. | sailed from
Havre the day ! reached it, and in six
weeks from the time | received those
letters was in the halls of my fathers
house. My sister sprung into my arms
and tainted. | placed her upon the
sofa, aud knelt by her to catch the first
sound that came from her lips. She
spoke, and sealed my despair She
is deadp What passed in my bosom
for the next few days words can never
tell.
y Il " n Il
When the first wild blast had passed
away, | went to that beautiful village
10 see the deserted home of my lost
Frances and visit her grave. 1t was a
calm, bland evening in early autumn,
and soft melancholy was spread over
he landscape, Every thing around
with my own feelings. /
passed into the old church-yard and
found my way to her grave. She was
sleeping under the solemn shade of
ofty sycamore, and the evening wind
was signing her requiem through its
branches, and scattering now and then
IN aged leaf upoH her tomb. A chaste
column marked the spot of her repose
It bore this simple inscription
@aoneocoooooooooooeoeoe
Of