Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1859-01-13
& Charming gtary.
THE BANK.NOTE.

> THE BANk-NOTE.
"You would scarcely think I ha
g been in the State Prison.. woul
your
"In the State Prison. ! ecboe:
, .Ohl Of course you mean as Wis
tor" and I felicitated myself :ha
my good-humored host had nc
sold me.
I mo, | mean as convict.
! sAs a convict echoed again
dropping my pipe in amaze@ent
Impossible
True. nevertheless
Mrs. Elmore raised her eyes from
her knitting, and locked at her hus'
band and then at me, with sort o.
sad smile, that seemed to say; True
every word Of it,
MIR. Emore was a planter living
near Natchez, in Mississippi, and |,
lancying myself an artist, was at
that time staying at his house, os-
tensibly engaged in painting the
portrait of his daughter Annette, q
fair young beauty Of seventeen.
True my stay had already been
longer than was strictly necessary for
purposes of painting, but for reasons
which will appear more fully hereaf-
ter, l still fingered on the planta-
tion, an honored guest. And often,
in the calm autumn evenings, We
would all set together on the veran-
dab, and talk for hours in a home
like, old fashioned way under the
shadow Of the cliDging vine. @
In the State Prison as convict
| repeated after pause, inwardly
wondering how it could be possible
that that mild, benevolent old gentle.
man could ever have been SO abused.
perhaps you would like to hear
how it happened? be said, inquiringly.
'Most certainly, if you are willing
to narrate it.
4 have never spoken Of it since
l have been here, butif you will lis
ten tonight to an old mems babbling,
l will tell You the story
We replenished our pipes, settled
ourselves in our seats, and just when
the sun went out of our sight the old
man began his story
Forty years ago to-day, ! was
twenty-five years old aud improbable
as it may now seem. I was practicing
law in the city of Boston. Or, rath-
er, I was sitting in my office, waiting
to practice. My father who had
died when l was but a boy, had been
a lawyer before me, and it was my
ambition always to be like him, as'I
dimly remembered him. and as my
mother described him. r.
..At that time my mother and my
self we're living together in a lit:le'
house in Roxbury, and / had just
begun to see some prospect of sue
cess ia my business.
+ There was an acquaintance of
mine, Louis Milton by name, at that
time cashier in one Of the city banks.
Circumstances had thrown us
much together, and we had grown
to be very good friends, so much
SO that he had often spoken to me Of
a certain Mary Marshall whom he
was accustomed to regard as his fu-
ture wife; the contract, for such only
it could be called, having been enter
ed into years before by their parents.
Weston. Marshall was wealthy
importer, and the elder Milton chief
owner of the bankid which Louis was
cashier. Both we're wealthy .and both
aristocratic, and hence the foundation
of the contract. I had never seen
her; and never thought of her but
when he spoke Of her, little dream
ing that she would one day, Indirect
ly, effect a thorough change-in my
whole life. But | must not autici-
pate.
4 shall never forget one snowy
night-the first time ! ever saw her.
Some theatrical. celebrity was star.
ing at one Of the Boston theatres,
and Louis and. myself happening
together in the evening strolled to
the play. In one of the intervals
between the acts, Louis turned to me
and asked: afS
Have you ever seen -Mary?'
/ answered that ! had never had
that pleasure.
Do you see,' be said, directing
fmy attention to q remote part Of The