This planter, whom we shall call General Walton, (the last name assumed, the title one given him by common consent,) had one son, and an only daughter, the former twenty-one, the latter eighteen, at the time we wish to introduce them to the reader’s notice.  Both were worthy, the one as a man, the other as a woman.  He was noble, intellectual, manly; she was beautiful, accomplished, intelligent; both possessed those higher and nobler qualities of mind and heart which dignify and ally it to divinity.

Ellen Walton, an heiress, jointly with her brother, in prospective, and reputed the wealthiest fair one in all the district, (the world don’t always know the true situation of a man’s affairs,) was not left to pine away in solitude with the dismal prospect in view of becoming that dreaded personage—­an old maid.  No, she was beset with admirers; some loving her, some her wealth, and some both.  To all but one she turned a deaf ear; that one, though the least presuming of the many, and too diffident to urge his claim until impelled by the irresistable violence of his love, possessed, unknown to himself, a magnetic power over the heart of the fair being.  Many were the doubts and fears of both—­natural accompaniments of true, sincere, devoted, but unacknowledged, love—­but all were dispelled by the mutual exchange of thoughts, and the mutual plighting of faith.  Vows once made by the pure in heart, are seldom, if ever, broken, and then by some higher duty or demand.

For a time the youthful lovers were happy—­happy in themselves, and the joys of the new existence opened up to them by the magic wand of LOVE.  But love has its trials, as all can testify who have tasted its potency in the heart; and so these two learned.  Their engagement was a family secret, not yet to be developed.  Hence, many of her admirers still offered their attentions, in the vain hope of ultimate success.  Particularly was this the case with those who had an eye to the fortune rather than the heiress, taking the latter as the only means of obtaining the former; and first among this number was Louis Durant, a man of corrupt principles, and deeply depraved feelings.  A sprig of a noble family of small pretensions, whose pride far exceeded their means, he was desirous of obtaining wealth; and being too indolent to enter a profession, too poor to become a merchant, and too proud to work, as a last resort, he wished to marry a fortune.  Like most of his class, he was unscrupulous as to means so the end was attained.  It was, therefore, an easy matter to conform, in outward appearance, to the society he was in.  This he never failed to do.  When with the Waltons, he was a pattern of generosity, and a pitying angel.  When with the gambler, or the roue, he was equally at home—­a debauchee, or a handler of cards.

With the intuitive perception of woman, Ellen saw through his character at once; and, though she treated him with civility, never gave him any encouragement.  Blinded by her fortune, and construing her reserve into the bashfulness of a first passion, being too vain to acknowledge the inability of his powers of fascination to carry all before them, he gave himself up to hope, and already counted on the half of the Walton estate as his own, and spent many a shilling of his small funds on the strength of the anticipation.