My dear Madam,
A few hours ago my friend became perfectly sensible of his danger, and calling me to his bedside, told me that he was eager to make use of the little time which he might have to live. He was quite calm and collected. He employed me to write his last wishes and bequests; and I must do him the justice to declare, that the strongest idea and feeling in his mind evidently was the desire to show his entire confidence in his wife, and to give her, in his last moments, proofs of his esteem and affection. When he had settled his affairs, he begged to be left alone for some time. Between twelve and one his bell rang, and he desired to see Lady Leonora and me. He spoke to me with that warmth of friendship which he has ever felt from our childhood. Then turning to his wife, his voice utterly failed, and he could only press to his lips that hand which was held out to him in speechless agony.
"Excellent woman!" he articulated at last; then collecting his mind, he exclaimed, "My beloved Leonora, I will not die without expressing my feelings for you; I know yours for me. I do not ask for that forgiveness which your generous heart granted long before I deserved it. Your affection for me has been shown by actions, at the hazard of your life; I can only thank you with weak words. You possess my whole heart, my esteem, my admiration, my grat.i.tude."
Lady Leonora, at the word _grat.i.tude_, made an effort to speak, and laid her hand upon her husband"s lips. He added, in a more enthusiastic tone, "You have my undivided love. Believe in the truth of these words--perhaps they are the last I may ever speak."
My friend sunk back exhausted, and I carried Lady Leonora out of the room.
I returned half an hour ago, and found everything silent: Mr L---- is lying with his eyes closed--quite still--I hope asleep. This may be a favourable crisis. I cannot delay this letter longer.
Your grace"s faithful servant, J. B.
Letter cvi.
_Leonora to her mother._
Yarmouth.
Dearest Mother,
He has slept several hours.--Dr H----, the most skilful of all his physicians, says that we may now expect his recovery. Adieu. The good general will add a line to a.s.sure you that I am not deceived, nor too sanguine.
Yours most affectionately, Leonora L----.
_Postscript by General B----._
I have some hopes--that is all I can venture to say to your grace.
Letter cvij.
_Leonora to her mother._
Yarmouth.
Dearest Mother,
Excellent news for you to-day!--Mr L---- is p.r.o.nounced out of danger. He seems excessively touched by my coming here, and so grateful for the little kindness I have been able to show him during his illness! But, alas! that fatal promise! the recollection of it comes across my mind like a spectre. Mr L---- has never touched upon this subject--I do all in my power to divert his thoughts to indifferent objects.
This morning, when I went into his room, I found him tearing to pieces that note which I mentioned to you a few days ago. He seemed much agitated, and desired to see General B----. They are now together, and were talking so loud in the next room to me, that I was obliged to retire, lest I should overhear secrets. Mr L---- this moment sends for me. If I should not have time to add more, this short letter will satisfy you for to-day.
Leonora L----.
I open my letter to say, that I am not so happy as I was when I began it. I have heard all the circ.u.mstances relative to this terrible affair.
Mr L---- will go to Russia. I am as far from happiness as ever.
Letter cviij.
_Olivia to Mr L----._
Richmond.
"Say, is not absence death to those that love?"
How just, how beautiful a sentiment! yet cold and callous is that heart which knows not that there is a pang more dreadful than absence--far as the death of lingering torture exceeds, in corporeal sufferance, the soft slumber of expiring nature. Suspense! suspense! compared with thy racking agony, even absence is but the blessed euthanasia of love.
My dearest L----, why this torturing silence? one line, one word, I beseech you, from _your own hand_; say but _I live and love you, my Olivia_. Hour after hour, and day after day, have I waited and waited, and hoped, and feared to hear from you. O, this intolerable agonizing suspense! Yet hope clings to my fond heart--hope! sweet treacherous hope!
"Non so si la Speranza Va con l"inganno unita; So che mantiene in vita Qualche infelici almen."
Olivia.
Letter cix.
_Mr L---- to Olivia._
Yarmouth.
My dear Olivia,
This is the first line I have written since my illness. I could not sooner relieve you from suspense, for during most of this time I have been delirious, and never till now able to write. My physicians have this morning p.r.o.nounced me out of danger; and as soon as my strength is sufficient to bear the voyage, I shall sail, according to my promise.
Your prudence, or that of your physician, has saved me much anxiety--perhaps saved my life: for had you been so rash as to come hither, beside my fears for your safety, I should have been exposed, in the moment of my returning reason, to a conflict of pa.s.sions which I could not have borne.
Leonora is with me; she arrived the night after I was taken ill, and forced her way to me, when my fever was at the highest, and while I was in a state of delirium.
Lady Leonora will stay with me till the moment I sail, which I expect to do in about ten days. I cannot say positively, for I am still very weak, and may not be able to keep my word to a day. Adieu. I hope your mind will now be at ease. I am glad to hear from the surgeon that your wound is quite closed. I will write again, and more fully, when I am better able. Believe me, Olivia, I am most anxious to secure your happiness: allow me to believe that this will be in the power of
Yours sincerely, F. L----.