Cumming, January 24, 1844.

Dear Ambulinia—­

We have now reached the most trying moment of our lives; we are pledged not to forsake our trust; we have waited for a favorable hour to come, thinking your friends would settle the matter agreeably among themselves, and finally be reconciled to our marriage; but as I have waited in vain, and looked in vain, I have determined in my own mind to make a proposition to you, though you may think it not in accord with your station, or compatible with your rank; yet, “sub loc signo vinces.”  You know I cannot resume my visits, in consequence of the utter hostility that your father has to me; therefore the consummation of our union will have to be sought for in a more sublime sphere, at the residence of a respectable friend of this village.  You cannot have an scruples upon this mode of proceeding, if you will but remember it emanates from one who loves you better than his own life—­who is more than anxious to bid you welcome to a new and happy home.  Your warmest associates say come; the talented, the learned, the wise, and the experienced say come;—­all these with their friends say, come.  Viewing these, with many other inducements, I flatter myself that you will come to the embraces of your Elfonzo; for now is the time of your acceptance of the day of your liberation.  You cannot be ignorant, Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of my heart; its thoughts are too noble, and too pure, to conceal themselves from you.  I shall wait for your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you will set the time to make your departure, and to be in readiness at a moment’s warning to share the joys of a more preferable life.  This will be handed to you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in communicating anything to you that may relieve your dejected spirits, and will assure you that I now stand ready, willing, and waiting to make good my vows.

I am, dear Ambulinia, your

truly, and forever,

J. I. Elfonzo.

Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer’s, though they did not suspect her in the least the bearer of love epistles; consequently, she was invited in the room to console Ambulinia, where they were left alone.  Ambulinia was seated by a small table —­her head resting on her hand—­her brilliant eyes were bathed in tears.  Louisa handed her the letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit animated her features—­the spirit of renewed confidence that never fails to strengthen the female character in an hour of grief and sorrow like this, and as she pronounced the last accent of his name, she exclaimed, “And does he love me yet!  I never will forget your generosity, Louisa.  Oh, unhappy and yet blessed Louisa! may you never feel what I have felt—­may you never know the pangs of love.  Had I never loved, I never would have been unhappy; but I turn to Him who can save, and if His wisdom does not will my expected union, I know He will give me strength to bear my lot.  Amuse yourself