| | 1 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Viola, or, Adventures in the far South-west  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Away! away! away! three cheers
for freedom! and ho for the sunny
South!” “Dear Morton—We meet strangely
—we have from the first—and since I
saw you on the boat at New Orleans, I
have thought there may be such a thing
as a special Providence. Oh, Morton, if
you love me—if you ever loved me—
forsake me not now! Till I saw you
last, despair had for months sat like an
incubus upon my heart. Hope had fled
me, and in vain I labored to lure her
back. She came with you; and since
then has fluttered in sight, but ready to
take wing and leave me forever. You,
Morton, and hope, are so united, that
neither can come alone. Oh, misery!
misery! how well I know the meaning
of the term! What shall I say of the
past? I could pour out my soul to you
in words, were we together; but I can
say nothing on paper. Yet something
I must say. My mother is dead. My
father—oh! that he better deserved the
name!—what shall I say of him? Morton,
to be brief, my father has sold me
to a man I detest, and is now on his
way to deliver me to my purchaser.
In other words, and to speak without
enigma, my father having failed in business,
is resolved to retrieve his fortune
by disposing of my hand to a French
count, who boasts of a distant connection
with Louis Philippe. He is rich,
and owns a country seat somewhere
near the Brazos; but I cannot direct you
to it, nor do I even know the vicinity.
I only know it is called D'Estang Ville.
You may perhaps find it from the name
—that is, should you care to trouble
yourself about it. Thither I am to be
transported; and once there my father
has solemnly sworn I shall become the
wife of D'Estang, or take the alternative
of ending my days in a convent, in the
interior of Mexico. Of the two, my
choice is already made. I will never
wed this count. Morton, my hope is
in you, or death. If you fail me, the
latter may not. I would not die now—
but can I live a life of misery? I have
knelt and prayed to my father to forego
his terrible resolve. In vain. He is
inexorable. Oh! how he has changed
of late! He is another being. Mother
and wealth were his idols. One is
dead—the other lost; and now he would
rebuild his fortunes on the crushed
hopes and broken heart of his only
child. He cannot love me, Morton, and
I have learned to fear him. Could he
have loved my mother? If so, why am
I treated thus? Of M. D'Estang—he
once visited my father in the city of
Mexico. I was then a child—but it
seems he conceived a passion for me
even then, which years have strengthened
rather than weakened. I say passion;
for had he ever loved, he would
not buy me like a slave now. How he
and my father met within a year, and
how one bought and the other sold me,
I cannot tell you now—perhaps I may
when we meet, should God permit us
to meet again on earth. My hand trembles,
and tears dim my eyes. Morton,
dear Morton, I cannot write more. I
have stolen away to do this. Will it
ever reach you? and can you assist me
if it does? Oh, Morton, by the sweet
past! by our then happy hopes of the
future! I conjure you to come to my aid!
But you must come disguised. If seen
and recognised, I verily believe your
life will be taken. It is fearful to think
so, Morton—it is terrible! No more. “I am a prisoner in the tower; secure
the bearers of this; let no one
leave the Ville, on pain of death, and
come instantly to my release. “Let the bearers of this, my particular
friends, be provided with four
good horses, and be permitted to leave
the Ville without question or hindrance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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