Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-10-20

j
in honor to fulfill the wishes of yol
parents, although they oppose
themselves to your inclination
But this is false reasoning. COZ
Tess TO you, my cousin, that lov
you, and that in my airy dreams {
futurity you have been my constar
friend and companion. But it
your happiness / desire rs well 8
my own, when declare to you ths
our marriage would render me etel
nally miserable, unless it were tn
dictate of your own free choice
Even now / weep to think, thai
borne down as you are by the cruel
est misfortunes, you may stifie, b,
the word honor, all hope of tina
love and happiness which woul,
alone restore you to yourself.
. who have so interested an affection
= for you, may increase your miserie
tenfold, by being an obstacle t,
your wishes. All, Victor, be as
sured that your cousin and play
mate has too sincere love for yol
not to be made miserable by thi
suppOsition. Be happy, my friend
and, if you obey me in this one re
quest, remain satisfied that nothing
on earth will have power to inter
rupt my tranquility.
"Do not let this letter disturb you
do not answer it to morrow 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 see but one smile on your
lips when we meet, occaSioned by
this or any other exertion of mine.
| shall need no other happiness.
"ELIZABETH LAvENZA.
Geneva, May 18th IL"
This letter revived in my memo
ry what / had before forgotten, the
threat of the fiend, d,-"I a0iU be a0ith
you on yoatr aceclding night" Such
was my sentence, and on that night
would the demon employ every art
to destroy me, and tear me from
the glimpse of happiness which
promised partly to console my suf-
ferings. On that night he had de-
termined to consummate his crimes
by my death. Well, be it so; a
deadly struggle would then as
suredly take place, in which, if he
was victorious, should be at peace,
and his power over me be at an end.
If he were vanquished l should be
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 than in my Eliza
| beth | possessed treasure; alas
balanced by those horrors of re-
morse and guilt, which would pur-
sue me until death.
Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! /
read and re-read her letter, and
some softened feeling stole into my
heart, and dared to whisper para
disiacal dreams of love and joy;
but the apple was already eaten,
and the angels arm barred to drive
me from all hope. Yet / would
die to make her happy. If the
monster executed his threat, death
was inevitable yet, again, l con-
sidered whether my marriage would
hasten my fate. My destruction
might, indeed, arrive few months
sooner; but, if my torturer should
suspect that L postponed it, int1u-
enced by his menaces, he would
surely find other, and perhaps more
dreadful, means of revenge. He
had vowed to be a0ith me on nly aCed-
ding night, yet he did not consider
that threat as binding him to peace
in the meantime for, as If to show
me that he was not yet satiated
with blood, he had murdered Cler-
val Immediately after the enuncia-
tion of his threats. [ resolved,
therefore, that if my immediate
union with my cousin would con-
duce either to her or my fathers
happiness, my adversary's designs
against my life should not retard it
a single hour.
In this state of mind l wrote to
Elizabeth. My letter was calm and
affcectionate. "I fear, my beloved
girl" [ said, "little happiness re-
mains for US on earth yet all that
| may one day enjoy is concentered
in you. Chase away your idle
fears; to you alone do 1 censecrate
my life, and my endeavOrs for con-
tentment. / have one secret, Eliza
beth, a dreadful one; when reveal
ed to you, it will chill your frame
with horror, and then, far from be-
ing surprised at my misery, you
will only wonder that l survive
what | have endured. / will con-
tide this tale of misery and terror
to YOU the day after our marriage
shall take place; for, my sweet cOu-
sin, there must be perfect confidence
between us. But until then, con-
lure you, do not mention or allude
to it. This / most earnestly en-
treat. and 1 know you will COM
ply"
In about a week after the arri-
val of Elizabeth's letter, we return
ed to Geneva. My cousin welcom-
ed me with warm affection yet
tears were in her eyes, as she be-
held my emaciated frame and
feverish cheeks. l saw a change in
her also. She was thinner, and
had lost much of that heavenly
vivacity that had before charmed
me; but her gentleness, and soft
looks of compassion, made her a
more fit companion for one blasted
and miserable as was.
The tranquility which / now en-
joyed was not to endure. Memory
brought madness with it :; and
when / thought on what had pass
ed, a real insanity possessed me
sometimes / was furious, and burn
ed with rage, sometimes low and
despondent. / neither spoke nor
looked, but sat motionless, bewil-
dered by the multitude of miseries
that overcame me.
Elizabeth alone had the power to
draw me from these fits; her gen
tie voice would soothe me when
transported by passion, and inspire
me with human feelings when
sunk in torpor. She wept with me,
and for me. When reason return
ed, she would demonstrate, and en-
deavor to inspire me with resigna-
ton. All! it is well for the unfor-
tunate to be resigned, but for the
guilty there is no peace. The ag-
onies of remorse poison the luxury
there is otherwise sometimes found
in indulging the excess of grief.
Soon after my arrival, my father
spoke of my immediate marriage
with my cousin. l remained ST.
lent.
"Have you, then, some other at
tachment?" ?"
'None on earth. / love Eliza
beth, and look forward to our union
with delight. Let the day there