The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1871-06-15

) ings-pleadings poured vainly In the
ear of passion-pleadings both to you
and her. But I will remind you OF
one day, when scorncd by her III
you presence, / made last appeal
| an appeal to her faith, her honor, to
your generosity, your piety, when,
l stung to madness at the sight Of your
happiness, l ventured on boldeII
words than should have used, and
YOU answered with blowl But
you were happy, and soon forgot
that circumstance. Soon the maiden
died."
And here his voice, that failed and
faltered, his eyes that seemed dim
med with tears, his lips that CULVER
ed, gave token that te spoke the
truth, when he said that his love for
her still lived, and the poor debtor,
while listening, forgot his trouble for
the moment, though not Of tho pres
ent. Tho past with all its sorrow
and Its joy, it's unimaginablo woe,
was his again.
Devcreux continued:
"The maiden died. Well for her
she died before your love grew cold,
before she learned how much she had
cast away for ever, She died before
remorse or retfibution could arrive
she died in your arms. Above her
grave we met again. My love must
have been strong, st. Victor, since it
conquered my natural pride, brought
me to that grave o mourner. You
were sad, subdued; you extended
me your hand, and prayed that all
might be peace between us--that all
might be forgotten. / shook the
offered hand-it was necessary that l
should dissimulatc--and l said that
l forgave. Time rolled on, and you
overcame your grief you married
again, you inherited your noble pat
rimony, you became the head of the
great house of St. Victor. l left you,
but before I quilted your employ ]
had prepared the way to ruin; l had
sown the seeds of all that has follow
cd and is.to come. l also married
for the sake of wealth. l entered
upon the business; struggled hard |;
/ have not toilcd in vain; l am now
the richest man in all Marseillcs. My
wife is dead, but she has left mo one
son, the only thing love; for him
and his vengeance l have worked and
lived"
"And for his sake" exclaimed st.
Victor, twill have mercy upon me, if
not OH me, on my wife; if not on
her, on my children"
For a moment the hard eye soften
cd, and the face assumed an irres-
olute expression, but it was only for
o moment. His answer was.
"No! the anguish, the shame of q
blow shall not pass unavenged! To-
morrow, and st. Victor shall be the
wonder and scorn of Marseillcs p"
"Ah! Devcreux. think not, l be-
seech you, Of that hasty act. Think
rather Of my long-felt, long-shown
trust in you; think, how ours has
been for years the first house there.
What a terrible thing this would be !
the head of the st. Victors arrested
arrested, and by youW
"All this" answered the creditor,
"that you urge against the act, but
stirs me more deeply towards it. To-
morrow, and l have my revenge"
"Give me but day, Devereux, and
l will essay to raise the money.
Give me week. Tho ship Volant,
my last venture, is expected ere the
week is out. Give till her return.
Her cargo is Of ore and diamonds; if
she comes laden as l hope, l may
meet all demands and save at least
my honor. Give me but time ?"
But the creditor smiled as he re-
piled:
"Not an hour.
"Oh, Devereux, have some mcrcyW
and st. Victor sank upon his knees,
clasping his hands in agony.
Just as the creditor opened his lips
to reply, bowling blast Of wind
shook the windows Of the room, and
moaned wildly down the wide Chin
ncy. He paused and started.
MY son is at sea; God grant there
Is no stOrmp
He approached the easement and
gazed anxiOusly forth. Evidently
he thought only Of his young sailor,
nothing of the suffering debtor at his
feet. The debtor rose.
"The wind is fair for the VOlant;
heaven send her safe 10 portw
A voice was heard upon the quay
beneath.
"The Volant! The Volantw
Creditor and debtor rushed to the
window.
"What ofthc Volant? What news
Of the Volant2" shouted st. Victor
from the easement.
There was an eager group OH the
quay; many had friends or relatives
in the expected vessel; some had
shares in the rich freightage; fifty tel
escopes were levelcd at tho horizon;
q hundred voices wero rich in asser-
ton, denial, conjecture! but all
agreed in one point, that vessel was
in sight and making towards the
port. ......
"Tis the Volant, five days before
her timel" said an old sailor who
had been gazing long and eagerly
through his glass. 81 would swear
to hor topgallant sails among thou
sand. Tis the Volantw
"And may yet bo savedi" mur-
INJURED the debtor.
Tho creditor turned flcrcly upon
him.
"Triumpth not yet, st. Victorw no
said, "she is yet far away; the perils
of the. deep are many, and between
her present course and this harbor
the sands are shifting and tho rocks
are dangerous. Triumph not yetw
But St. Victor, wild with hope,
needed him not; and the old man,
muttering threats and denunciations,
quilted the hotel and took his way
home.