University of Virginia Library

I address you at New York as you desired me in your
letter from Mahon. For that kind letter I send you my warmest thanks. It is
like yourself and breathes that noble affection which has made you the idol of
my heart. The days, weeks and months seem very long for I count them by
the throbbings of my heart, which is my only measure of time while you are
absent from me I think my father is now reconciled to our union, and I heard
him speak with great commendation and a sort of pride, that gratified me very
much, of your courage and noble forgetfulness of self, in saving the lives of the
three English officers and that of those of the Prince and Princess di Luzzi,
in the squall which struck their boat after it left the frigate for the shore.—
The papers are full of it, though you make no mention of it yourself. This,

too, is so like you. I cannot be too grateful to Heaven for your preservation
at such a time of imminent peril and confusion, and also for placing it in your
power to do so noble an act; for your fame and praises are mine, dear Bertrand!

I had written thus far when my father came in closing the door, approached me with a very grave look and asked me to whom I was writing? I answered,
for I conceal nothing from him concerning you, hide nothing from him in relation
to our mutual attachment, I answered by placing what I had written in
his hand. He saw to whom it was addressed, and then without reading a line
replaced it upon the escritoire before me and took my hand in his! I need not
say, dear Bertrand, I could not anticipate what was to be the nature of this interview;
for I apprehended it from what has already occurred within the house
Now—dont be jealous, Edward—for I am about to tell you that which will vex
you, though you will not be vexed with me. I did think of finishing my letter
to you before my father entered without alluding to this painful subject—but it
has now assumed too serious an aspect to be treated with indifference, and moreover
your presence may correct every thing, and save me from domestic persecution
that has fairly commenced.

There was introduced to my father while we were at Saratoga a month ago,
a French gentleman, the Count and Baron de Rosselau, as he styled himself on
his card. My father presented him soon after to me, and be chose to devote
himself to me from that moment every opportunity that unfortunately placed
me in his society. He was by no means a man to please a lady; for though
elegant in his manners, he was a consummate fop, and the expression of his
face was the index of a heart without purity, of a character without generosity.
In a word, he looked like a bad—very bad man, as I have no question that he
is. Instead of receiving his attentions and being dazzled by his titles, I shrunk
from him and avoided his presence in every way until my father interposed
his authority and commanded me to treat him not only with civility but to receive
with pleasure his attentions.

Do not harbor one dark doubt of my truth and love to you, Bertrand. Your
loved image, your dear memory, I only kept the closer in my heart of hearts.
My love for you became more sacred and I firmly refused to obey my father's
commands! Finding me resolute he ceased to urge me, but in every way afterwards
sought opportunities to have me under Rosselau's protection. He
would quite neglect to hand me into dinner till Rosselau, seeing me standing
alone, would press his services. He would suddenly desert me on some pretence,
when promenading the galleries, and the next instant Rosselau would
be at my side. I tried to show him, by my conduct and words, that his attentions
were disagreable; but confident in the support of my father, he continued
to persecute me, until at length, I firmly made up my mind that if my
father did not leave the Springs the next day, I would run away from him and
return home. This determination I made known to my father—with a spirit
that confounded him; and he was under the necessity of giving me his consent
to go.

We departed the next day although our residence had not been but a week
there, but not for home. Our destination was Niagara! I cared little whither
we went so that I saw no more of the hateful and persecuting de Rosselau.—
The very next day he joined us at Rochester and attached himself to our party.
I treated him with cool indifference and regarded his words and his presence
no more than as if I had neither ears to hear his folsome flatteries, nor eyes
to be conscious of his vicinity. I mortified him so openly before others by this
studied reserve that after a day at Saratoga he took his leave; and I trusted I
should see no more of him.

To my surprize, after he was gone, I did not receive from my father that severe
censure upon my conduct that I was tremblingly anticipating; on the contrary he was chereful and seemed to quite forget that I had displeased him,
or that there was such a person as the `Count Baron Rosseleau' in the world
I soon recovered my spirits and health, which were sadly suffering, as doubtless
my father had discovered, and after three days sojourn at Niagara, he proposed
that we should journey homeward. This proposition I assented to gladly;
for I felt that there I should have a retreat sacred from the intrusion of my
titled and persevering persecutor. But I was mistaken, Edward, as you will
see! But be patient and spare your feelings till you hear all. I had been at

home but four days when father informed me he should have a friend from
town to dine, and desired me to `look and appear my best, for it was his particular
desire his friend should find his visit very agreeable. Perhaps you already
anticipate who this `friend' was, Bertrand. But I did not, not harboring
the least cuspicion that de Rosselau was in this part of the country. On my
entrance to the drawing room just before dinner was announced, I thought I
should sink through the floor on beholding Baron de Rosselau! Nothing but
my spirited indignation kept me from losing my self possession. My father's
eye was bent sternly upon me, and I bowed coldly and repeated the terms of
welcome, but without noticing the hand de Rosselau would have extended to
grasp mine.

How I got through dinner I have no recollection. I returned from the table
as soon as I could, and flying to my room burst into a paroxysm of tears! Oh,
how I wisned you were present then, dear Bertrand that we might fly together
I cared not whither so it were with you!

`Madness! This is unendurable! I have no patience to complete this letter!
I feel as if I could fly to him this moment. Poor Marie! Noble and true Marie!
If that de Rosselau does not answer for all this—but, patience. I must
read more and know all before I can stir a step! Oh, that I could embrace the
contents of the remainder of the letter at a glance of thought.'

—`I did not leave my room till the next morning, nothwithstanding my
father came repeatedly at the door to summon me; but pleading illness I refused
to admit him or obey his commands. He threatened me; but I would gladly
have been locked up in the darkest and loneliest room of the villa than have
met de Rosselau. But believing in the morning that he had gone, for I had
been told so by my maid, I went out to breakfast. I found him standing with
my father in the breakfast-room. My first impulse was to fly. My next and
best was to remain and chill him by my manner. I had before found this most
successful, and I now assumed this bearing; and during breakfast I neither
saw nor heard him speak. His chair might as well have been empty, for I
took no notice that any one occupied it. My father was very angry and the
breakfast passed off gloomily; but I felt that I was the victorious one.

Directly after breakfast the count left, and a few moments afterwards one of
the servants handed me a note from him written in French, which I copy, for
I would you should understand all and know all that has transpired in the
fullest manner, my noble Bestrand.'

`I beg you will not refuse to read with your beautiful
eyes (Bertrand. The devil confound him!) the few profound sentiments of
my heart, I have the honor to give expression to in consideration of the deep
passion I entertain for you. Be assured, Madamoisille, that it has never been
my felicitous fate to meet with one of your divine sex who has succeded in
imprisoning my heart so completely as you have done! Yes, admirable Marie!
(the foul fiend take him!) I have had but one thought since I beheld you, and
that is to make myself agreeable to you, that I may win that cruel heart which
already has captivated mine. I assure you I have taken no offence at your
proud and cold indifference, but on the contrary, your coldness has increased
the flame of my devotion! May I hope that my sincerity may meet at least
with some degree of grace from you, for you are too beautiful to be a tyrant!
(I'll make him eat this letter!) It is my highest ambition to make you the
Countess de Rosselau, a rank to which some of the haughtiest beauties I say
it without vanity, of dear enchanting Paris have aspired to in vain! At your
feet, where I have already laid my heart, I am desirous of laying the honors of
my name and rank. Your father's consent I have been so fortunate as to obtain,

and I only await your condescension to my suit, trusting that I shall not
have sued in vain. Your devoted and humble lover, who kisses your hand with
the profoundest adoration,

`I took no notice of this note, Bertrand, and indeed should have sent it back
unopened, but I wished to know what it was he had to say, and to ascertain, if
possible, how far this persecution was to be carried; for I had made up my
mind to escape from it by flight, I knew not whither, if he should continue it.

After I had read the note my father came in, and asked me my decision. I
told him naively I was not free to act without your consent, for I was plighted
to you: that if he or the Baron would wait until you returned from sea, or
would write to you and get your consent, I would then think upon the matter.
This reply angered my father; and then I very firmly told him, that were I
free, pertectly free, the Baron would be the last man who would be successful
in engaging my affections; that he was very disagreeable to me, and `that if I
could be wicked enough to hate any body, I should hate him.'

I hoped this would settle the matter; and for some days I heard no more of
the subject of de Rosselau, though he twice or thrice visited the house and
dined with my father; but I did not see him, nor did my father send any message
to me to leave my room.

I therefore believed that the war was at an end; and daily hoping for your return
I began to be at peace and experience a sense of security. Under this
feeling I began this letter to you, and had written but the first twenty lines
when my father came in, as I already have said, asked me to whom I was
writing, and on my handing him the letter returned it to me again without
reading it.

Now I will proceed to tell you what he said to me, having deferred doing so
to acquaint you first with the occurrences which had previous to this transpired.
These occurrences you have now had fully communicated to you, and now
you shall hear the result of this last important interview between me and my
father!'