Ellen Walton | Page 4

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.
When he saw that the bottom of his purse would soon be reached, he

sought an opportunity, declared himself in love, and asked the hand of
Miss Walton. The General to whom he had always appeared a "fine
fellow," would leave his daughter to decide the matter. Thus referred,
he lost no time in making Ellen the recipient of his "tale of love." All
his theatrical powers were called in action; his eloquence commanded;
but the impressions made were far different from those intended.
Though the outward semblance was complete, Ellen saw that the
passion was feigned, and a still deeper dislike took possession of her
feelings. But with gentle delicacy, she told him his passion was not
returned.
"Then," said he, "let me win your love. I am sure your heart will yield
when you are convinced of the depth of the devotedness of my
affection."
"Do not flatter yourself with a vain hope. I feel that I shall never be
able to love you; and it is in kindness that I tell you so at once."
"Ah, adorable, angelic being! One so kind, so considerate, so good, is
too pure, too near akin to heaven, for man to possess. I only ask to be
your friend."
"As such, you shall ever be welcome."
"Thanks! thanks! May I but prove worthy of your friendship!"
Thus terminated his first attempt to win Ellen. His fall from the lover to
a friend was the first step in a plot already matured. As a friend, he
could ever have access to the heiress, and be received more familiarly
than in any other capacity, save as an acknowledged lover. This
familiarity would give him the opportunity of ingratiating himself into
her affections, of which, finally, he felt certain.
He became a constant and frequent visitor at the mansion of the
Waltons, and was ever received with cordiality. He let no opportunity
pass unimproved to carry out his design. Goodness, benevolence,
charity, were counterfeited most adroitly, until even Ellen began to
think she had done him injustice by her suspicions. This is a favorable

moment for a lover. Prove that you have been dealt with unjustly, and a
woman's heart is opened by sympathy to let you in. It was well for
Ellen that her heart was already occupied, or this might possibly have
been her fate. As it was, she became, insensibly and unintentionally,
kind to Durant. He did not fail to notice the change, and his heart
exulted in the prospect of complete success.
When he thought the proper time had