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VOL. I. [For tho Banner of the South.] Evening. BY EBPERANZA. Softly sighs the sunset breeze; Vesper bells are ringing; O’er the earth, on bended knees, Night her veil is flinging. Oh I how wt&ry feels my soul, Now, within her prison; Hush! be still, ye thoughts of dole l Whence have ye arisen ? Homeward yearns the captive heart, Yonder, where so brightly Gleam the stars ; it longs to part From this earth unsightly. Gently fades the evening red; Vesper chimes are dying; Nature thrills with holy dread— Hushed is e’en her sighing. Lone, I stand upon the lea, Night has closed around me; Still as deatli is main and sea— God! their spell has bound me 1 Fainter beat my pulses all; Dreamy visions haunt me; Would that from this blessed thrall Naught could disenchant me! Pensacola, Feb., 1808. j [FOB THE BASSE® OF THE SOUTH.] THE GOUORET MILL, Translated from Le Correspondant.” BY R. D. TA NARUS,, OF SOUTH CAROLINA. [continued.] VIII. LIKE THIEVES AT A FAIR. This evening, when the quaint old lamp was lighted, which hung suspended from the ceiling by a light copper chain, one could see on the large mill dresser, which they used as a table, iu addition to the usual number of plates, set for the family just assembled, two glasses, on a small waiter, by the large jug, which were left but half emptied, by. an old man and his son, whom Xavier was just ac companying to the gate. Leaning upon the table, which was covered with bright looking china, was the sweetest, freshest, saueiest-lookiug young girl ever seen un der a rustic root. Tall, easily, and grace fully formed, the white and red of her cheeks mellowed by the sun into a rich, warm glow; her forehead ample, and shaded by two heavy and massive waves of golden hair ; her dark blue eyes, half hiding, half revealing themselves, be neath the dark silken lashes, indicating, alternately, sprightliness or reserve ; her nose, straight at first, then slightly turned up ; her lips, too firm, perhaps, but beau tifully cut ; the soft, velvet cheeks almost losing themselves in the slight double chin; the fair white throat shaded, but not, concealed, by the spotless lace that covered it. Some time after the old man and his guests went out, the young girl rose from the table, and, finding a distaff in the cor ner of tlie room, she fastened it to the boh ot her pretty cotton apron, and, by a ound, pinned it to her body of light grey cloth, whose short and open sleeve showed to advantage the fair, plump arm. She began quietly to spin, and while her slender fingers drew' out the hemp, or turned the spindle, her glance, sometimes ought, sometimes dreamy, fell first upon one, then another, of the inmates of the hall. Sometimes it rested on the servant, who was busy about the table, then upon Lucks great hairy head, who, with his back turned to her, leaned over his large plate, picking up mechanically with the cud of his finger some crumbs scattered on the table, which, as mechanically, fie P’d into his mouth; then her glance would rest lingeringly on the manly and honest face of a line, healthy-looking y >udi of twenty-five years, who, sitting in front of Luc, and keeping his head steadily bent down, seemed to have no other thought, at the moment, beyond the large slice of brown bread and piece of cheese, that he cut up with the point of his knife. Had it not been for the mill, which worked along so merrily, under the same roof, the silence in the hall would have been perfect; and would, also, apparently have been of long duration ; because, none of the occupants of the room seemed inclined to break it. But the latch, just then, clicked, the door opened, and Xavier came in. After slamming the door quickly after him, he pushed up to the very top of his forehead the large worsted cap which he usually wore drawn down over his brow—this was a peculiar move ment which always indicated vexation wit l '* him—striding over one of the benches near the table, and giving a blow 7 with his great fist on the edge of the dresser, which made all the cups and saucers rattle. “This makes nine, 5 ’ he cried, “because I have kept count of them, and, mordieu , this is positively the‘ninth !” And with an angry look, he shook his head at the young girl, who, softly smiling, said : “Very well, when we reach papa, we will mark it with a cross; voila tout /” This answer, accompanied by a merry laugh, seemed no light aggravation to the old man, because, shrugging his shoulders, and stretching cut his "arm ; “ Voila lout /” he repeated in a hitter, sarcastic tone. “ Voila toutrt is it so ? and you think you have said something smart there, perhaps—you Hatter your self, something sensible 1” “I, grandfather ?” she replied, laugh ing again ; “I do not Hatter myself in any way, pot even oil finding out that this Jean-Marie Nivard—who, very certainly, you take for a man of sense, is nothing short of a blockhead !” “A what?” interrupted the old man. “Yes,” replied the young girl, “I said a blockhead, and 1 will not unsay it much more than blockhead, because he pretends to be so knowing, but, never theless, all his cunning airs are but foolish pretences, and vain laudations of his own disagreeable self!’ 7 “Oh, oh! not so disagreeable as you appear to think, 77 cried Xavier; “at the proper time, you will hear everybody ad mire his fine bearing and handsome figure.” “That may be, grandpapa ; but, on the present occasion, 1 think it quite enough that 1 do not agree with ‘ everybody. 7 ” “You think him pretentious ; well, that may be true, but who is there, after all, who has not some little fault ?” “Oh ! little, did you say ? I say great fault; but let us stop here.” “Well, great fault, if you insist, but this fault does not take from him the good name he inherits from his family. The Nivards are spoken of every where, as—.” “Oh ! certainly, it is only their good name that saves them. It is with your permission, then, that the boy comes to the Coudret Mill, to try and make him self acceptable to me ?” “The X ivards are people of prudence and management. 77 “Oh, yes! ol such prudence, they have never been known to give a sou to the poor. Everybody knows that.’ 7 “It is not a good rule to be too rash in giving aims. The Nivards have fine possessions in lands.” “And the Coudrets have fine estates in the water.” This reply provoked from Luc, who still sat there, a slig’ht tremulous move ment of the shoulders, which was the onlv external sign with him of a grim, interior kind of enjoyment. The young man who was opposite to him, continued eating, apparently blind and deaf to what was going on about him. As to Xavier, far from relinquishing his position, he hastened to avail himself of the pleasant humor of his grandchild. “Very well! 77 he said, “all the better leason for making a joint estate of the AUGUSTA, GA, JULY 11, 1868. land possessions of the one, and the water-works of the other.” “Bah! let it alone, grandfather; the property of the Coudrets can get along without the property of the Nivards, and as it was altogether from interest that this Jean-Marie came here—” “I assure you,” interrupted the grand father, “you are by no means disagreea ble to him.” “Is it possible that I stand so good a chance ?” cried Margaret. “I mean to say that he admires your fine qualities, your beauty; he spoke at length to me on the subject.” “And you believed all that! grand papa ?—you did ? Well, it is said that only faith can save. As for me, I believe nothing. Yet !—” “let!” quickly responded Xavier— “yet—all this goes to prove that you posi tively refuse Jean-Marie Nivard, as you have refused all the others before him. This is your last word.” “Pardon me, grandpapa—not my last— it was my first word.” “All! good heaven ! Let it be first or last, then ; what does it signify ?—they all mean the same tiling, namely, if the King of France was proposed to you, you would find some reason for refusing him !” “All! if the King would only come, then you would see—” “Bah! you know well enough the King will not come, and that you will never have the proposal to make me. But who has not come ? and what have I not seen ? What excuses have you not made, for turning away so many? You thought one too quick, another too slow; one too young, another too old ; one too conceited, another too indifferent. Just see ! It all signified nothing. The conclusion of this affair to-day. shows me, to my great dissatisfaction, that you are resolved to remain unmarried!” “What! to comb St. Catherine’s tresses! oh, no !” cried Margaret, throwing back her head with a most bewitching smile. “Well, what am you waiting for ?” “Just exactly, until there will come along someone to my taste, and I have always said so.” “Eh! I know well enough you have al ways said so—this is the burden of the song—it never changes.” “Is it my fault?' 7 “Yes, if you do not change it, it is be cause you will not; it is an idea, stubborn ly, foolishly taken up and adhered to” “Well, I am foolish, then! But, grand papa, do not publish your opinion, be cause, then, no more suitors would come to the Coudret Mill, and I will be left on your hands after all.” “Yes, you are foolish,” cried Xavier, without heeding the inference the young girl had drawn from that assertion; “yes’, foolish, beyond measure; because, is it not part of folly, not to do as everybody else does, above all, when such fine oppor tunities present themselves ? Just see how foolish all your excuses are—once or twice you pleaded that you were too young—too young ! Will you not be full twenty-one, to-morrow ? Do you not know that, on the next market day, yon must go with me to the Notary to sign my discharge as your guardian ? The accounts are all ready. Do you know that, from the moment you sign that paper, I will have no more to do with your private property ? I mean, of course, the inheritance that comes to you from your mother.” “Nothing to do with it ?—nothing, at all?” asked Margaret, with perfect can dor. “No, nothing at all. You know it very well. You will find, at the Notary’s, sixteen thousand fine francs, when the last interest will be paid, of which you will be full mistress, and which you can either place at interest, or invest in some advantageous purchase.” “Some purchase !” repeated the young girl, with a most animated expression ; “stop, stop, I have an idea, such a good idea, grandpapa ! You may he sure I will not come home from the parish, with out buying one of those beautiful shawls with long silk fringes, which everybody is now wearing; I will even buy the most expensive one. because you told me it cost too much money, when I asked you to give me one.” “I do not remember your asking me.” “Nevermind, / remember it, and you shall see that—” “Very well! very well ! let the shawl alone,” petulantly said Xavier, “this is only one of your tricks to keep me from returning to my subject. Do not be angry if I take it up again. I say. then, most emphatically, you cannot make your age any longer an excuse, because you are now free, not obliged to ask my con sent about anything— except about your marriage.” “Bo satisfied, grandpapa, I do not ex pect to marry without your consent,” said his mischievous tormentor. ou laugh, hut I sec nothing so amusing in it. If you can no longer ex ctise yourself on the score of age, and if it can be possible that amongst all the young men who have offered themselves to you, not one has been acceptable, what is it then ? what is it, if not your determination never to marry ? And if this be tho case, is there any sense in a young girl of twenty years, handsome, 1 rich, fine-looking, and who has not a bad temper—quite the contrary, indeed— is there any sense, I say, in her having such thoughts?” “But I have not such thoughts, and you must believe it, grandpapa,” said Margaret; but this time she was much more in earnest, and added, in the same serious tone—“and perhaps I may be married much sooner than you now think.” Luc, raising his chin from his hand, on which lie had leaned for more than a half hour, quickly turned ,his head, and gazed intently upon , Jtargaret .and tire young man, who his meal, evidently availed the pretext of rising from the table, to glance in the same direction. .Neither movement escaped Margaret’s attention. “What do you Xavier hastily asked, who saw, with in tensest satisfac tion, that Margaret had herself changed the frivolous tone of the conversation. “I mean to say, what I have said; no more, no less.” “More than I will believe. When will it be ?” insisted Xavier. “Oh ! whenever the proper suitor pre sents himself, and it may bo that ho will soon appear. Voila “Oh, yes ! always the same song,” said Xavier, who again found himself tripping over his stumbling block. Lue had resumed his former position, and the young man was walking slowly toward the door, which opened upon the mill. “And to think,” cried Xavier, striking the dresser again with his great fist; “to think that there is no one here with any sense”—here the young man suddenly stood still, and seemed to listen, though he did not return—“no one with any sense, I say, to help me argue against you, who can only listen to nonsense!’’ The young man again slowly sauntered towards the door. “It is not this hard-headed Luc that will help me,” continued Xavier; “he would not give up his stupid ideas for all the bright dreams in the world.” “Humph! I say nothing,” growled Luc, the cross old creature not even turn ing round. “No, you say nothing now, but you think none the less, and, when opportu nity offers, you do not hesitate to say just what you do think, 77 testily replied the old miller; then added, in a more gentle tone, “I think, perhaps—Etienne.” The young man, whose hand was just upon the latch, turned resolutely round to Xavier, looking at him with marked curiosity. “ Yes,’’ continued the grandfather, “Etienne is an honest youth, as quiet as he is brave; doing his work steadily, without intruding his ideas where he thinks he is not called upon to meddle, particularly in matters like the one under discussion, where he thinks his youth, and his short sojourn amongst us, are sufficient reasons for his reserve. It is just this—he has only been one year with us; lie has not, like Luc, known you from childhood, and he only sees you grown up ; hence his diffidence, hence the reason he is always careful to show you every respect. But lam very sure, if he would but for once speak freely, as if he had been long at the mill, and, par ticularly, as if lie were not bound to you by all kinds of considerations, I am very certain, I say, that he would admit he thought you in the wrong in being so obstinate in an intention which, after all, is no secret. Is it not so, Etienne ?” “Listen, master,” said the young man, with the most respectful air; “it is not my place to advise, or to dissuade Mademoi selle, and—•” “Oh, yes, I know; I know well it is just as I said,” interrupted the old man, “and I understand that you will not give up your habitual reserve; hut let us change the question, although it may be the same at last. Here you are, a simple wagon-boy at the mill; you have no other riches hut your own strong arm and brave heart; you think, some day, you will take a wife; that you will have a family; but you are a prudent, thought ful youth, so the idea of your future can not come without care, and you must re flect well before you act. But Margaret’s position is very different. Now, tell me, honestly, have you ever thought of act ing differently from your father before you, who, after all, was no better off than you are, or of being different from any body else? This is what I ask you.” “Ah, if this be all that you want to know, master,” said Etienne, with a smile of relief, his look lingering upon Margaret, who cast down her eyes, though seeming to regret that she could not watch the young man’s face— “ Yes, that is all I want to know; put your hand upon your heart and tell me. ” “With my hand upon my heart, master, I declare to you that that is just exactly my own idea, my own determina tion.” “What idea ? what determination ? never to marry ?” “Yes, master, never to marry.” “What! never to marry !” said the old man, who could not suppress his disap pointment. “Never !” gravely, aud almost solemn ly, said the young man, who, then, for the first time, looking up, set Margaret free from the restraint she had been im patient under, and who now, in turn, looked at him with a lively expression of curiosity. Deeply disconcerted as he was, Xavier contented himself with shaking his head in silence, and shrugging his shoulders, line could be distinctly heard smothering a laugh in his beard, and, strange to say, Margaret did not seem to join in his mirth, although at any other time, she would naturally have been the first to rejoice in grandpapa’s discom fiture ; but she seemed now entirely ab sorbed by this new feeling of curiosity. Then suddenly she laughed out, but not so heartily as to quiet the suspicion that there was some pre-occupation of her thoughts foreign to this gaiety. “Oh, that is a fine thing,” said Xavier, “you think you impose upon me, as if I did not know, from the first, there was a good reason for your decision.” ■'A good reason?” queried Margaret, who had suddenly become quiet; and Etienne, himself, looked at Xavier in astonishment. “Yes, yes, and a very good reason at that. You are not ignorant of the fact, that Etienne, like an honest, good boy, as ISTo. 17.