Eastern times., 1854-09-14

and elegance, which IS, indeed, but seldom 10
be met with, but when seen is irresistible.
At last her self-imposed task was oversize
approached the old man, and STOPPING down
towards him, nodded her head kindly as she
uttered, i will soon return
She then took up small case which she
had put down on her entrance, and, salutng
the stranger, she left the room and descended
the narrow stairs with rapid step.
/ on the contrary, shall not return, for I
leave Paris this evening but you shall soon
hear from me-
He then pressed the old mans hand kindly,
and departed. When he emerged from the
gateway of the house into the street, though
hopeless OF seeing his yoang assistant in The
work of benevoence in which he had been en-
gagged, he still could not avoid looking round
TO sec if by chance she was still in sight. AS
chance would have it she was standing. as
if undecided, at the door Of jewellers shop.
at some distance. At last she appeared to
have formed her determination, for she opened
the door and entered.
Without exactly analyzing the cause of his
curiosity, the stranger approached the win
dow of the shop, and observed what was go
ing on within He saw the young girl take
off her glove, and while he was admirinr the
dazzling whiteness and aristocratc form of
the hand, she drew, with some emotion,
ring from her finger, and presented it to the
person at the counter. He took 1t, examined
it carefully, rubbed the stone, and then me-
thodically took out pair of scales, and hav-
ing ascertalned the weight, offered his Gus
toner price, which, it was easy to see, she
accepted, from the movement of assent with
which she bent her head. The jeweller
opened a drawer, and counted out some mon
ey, which he pushed over the counter; and,
having written down her name and address,
he cast the ring into another drawer, amongst
heap Of jewelry of all forms and coIors.
The girl then departed, and in minute after
wards the young man entered the shop.
In short time afterwards she turned into
plain looking house in one of the streets off
the Rue St. Honore and opening the door of
a room on the ree-de-chdusse, she entered has
tiIy, crying
Here I am, dear mother. You must have
been uneasy at my long ABSENCE
Madame Revial-the person to whom this
was addressed-appeared infrm, though more
from trouble than years. She was stretched
on sofa, and appeared in delicate health
Her features, usually pale, assumed an ap-
pearance of animation when her daughter en-
tered, and Immediately became more sombre
than before.
Dear Anna, said she, Il have an unpleas-
ant piece of news to acquaint you with; it
was this, perhaps, that made me rather fear
your return than take note Of your long pro-
longed absence
Anna, having cast on a chair her shawl and
bonnet, Immediately seated herself on a low
stool near the end of the sofa which support
ed her mothers head The latter passed her
hand affectionately over the dark hair of her
daughter, and then continued
You know that your father had promised
your hand to the son of M. Barsac, of Bor-
deaux, his Oldest friend. The death of your faith
er-the heightened illness which has so much
reduced me-had not overcome my courage,
as long as | could live in the hope of seeing
you one day rich and happy, under the protec-
tion of worthy husband. This very morn
ing the scafloldng Of happiness which | loved
SO much to build up for you, fell to the ground.
This letter, addressed to your old habitation,
ought to have come to hand yesterday. Here,
read it YOURSELF
Anna took the letter which her mother held
out to her, and looking at the signature, re-
marked
1t is from M. Jules Barsac himself. She
then read the contents aloud.
MADAME-As long as fortune smiled on
me, thought with delight on the alliance
which M. Revival and my father had contract
ed for me, but the failure Of the firm Of Dan
derlias & Co., has drawn on ours and as
man Of honor deem myself bound to restore
your promise. If your daughter and myself
were acquainted, and if mutual affection had
been the basis of the projected union, would
have bent my knee before you, Madame, and
prayed you to wait until had repaired our
disaster but have the right to call on an
other to partake in my poverty, and to join in
my labor? DO even know what space of
time it may take to acquire a fortune worthy
Of that which you have lost He that is
above only can tell. Your daughter, brought
up under your protecting care, is, | am in
formed, both amiable and lovely Who is
there, then, who would not be proud and hap
Ply to give her an honorable name, and posi-
ton in society equal to that in which she was
born! AS to me, | have nothing left, and un-
willingly am forced to renounce the favor
designed for me.
You will pardon me, Madame, for leaving
Paris without paying my respects to you but
| should fear, after having seen your daugh-
ter, to carry with me keen regret, which
might trouble the calm of an existence now
consecrated to labor.
Farewell, then, Madame believe me to be
penetrated with every sentiment of respect for
you, and to remain your most obedient SER
want, Iu1rs R,psAc,
fho