Shortly after the marriage of Francisca, Clara retired to the convent of our Lady of Mercy, and devoting the rest of her life to deeds of charity and acts of self-denial, endeavored to expiate the sins she thought her pride and haughtiness had made her commit in her earlier years.
At Francisca’s request, Don Manuel presented Willis with his plantation and the country-house on the bay, where, with his loved and lovely bride, he settled. And no one who had looked upon them four years afterward, would have recognized in the loving father playing with a little boy about three years old, and laughing as heartily as the child, Willis, the Slaver, had they not looked around and espied the beautiful Francisca, now a settled matron, with an infant on her knee, but as lovely as ever; and a little further off, through an open window that led to the piazza, was seen the cheerful face of Don Manuel. And glimpses might be caught of the old duenna, as she bustled about the house, in all the pride of chief manager.
In all that vicinity, no one has a higher character for kindness, charity, or benevolence, than Don Carlos Willis; and no one is more ready to relieve the wants of his fellow man, either moral or physical; but none know that the good man, whose name they all unite in praising, was formerly the notorious slaver! the outlaw! the desperado of the “Maraposa!”
TO A CENTURY PLANT.
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BY MRS. JANE C. CAMPBELL.
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An hundred summers, and the sun
Hath poured on thee his light;