that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be
made miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you
obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth
will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity.
Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or the
next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle
will send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on your
lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I
shall need no other happiness.
Elizabeth Lavenza.
Geneva, May 18th, 17
This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat of
the fiend _I will be with you on your
wedding-night!_ Such was my sentence, and on that night would the
d mon employ every art to destroy me and tear me from the glimpse of
happiness which promised partly to console my sufferings. On that night he
had determined to consummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a
deadly struggle would then assuredly take place, in which if he were
victorious I should be at peace and his power over me be at an end. If he
were vanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! What freedom? Such as the
peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his
cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless,
penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that in my
Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors of
remorse and guilt which would pursue me until death.
Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and reread her letter, and some
softened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacal
dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the
angel s arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make
her happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet,
again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My
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