LETTER XXIX.
To Mary ——.
Bayam.
I thank you a thousand times, my dear sister, for your affectionate letter, and for the parcel that accompanied it. I knew with what pleasure you would share with me all you possess, and to be indebted to you adds to my happiness.
What you have heard of St. Louis is true. The affair of Don Alonzo and himself was made up by the interposition of some of their mutual friends who represented him as half mad; and somebody having spread a report that I had sailed for the city of Santo Domingo, he embarked immediately for that place. What he could think I should seek at Santo Domingo, I am at a loss to imagine.
My retreat has been discovered, and though by one who would not betray me, yet he is the last person on earth, except St. Louis, to whom I could have wished it to be known.
The husband of Donna Maria, the Spanish lady whom I mentioned to you before, had gone to St. Jago, some days previous to my arrival here. Having, as is the universal custom, visited a gaming house, he had a dispute with a gambler of bad reputation, and on leaving the house received a blow with a poinard, which proved mortal.
Such occurrences are too frequent to create much public interest, and it is considered useless to seek the assassin.
When the senora Maria expected the return of her husband, she heard that he existed no longer. The news was brought by her brother. Her house joins the one I live in. Hearing the most lamentable cries from her chamber I ran in. Judge of my surprise at seeing Don Alonzo. His, I believe, was not less, for abandoning his sister, he approached me; but I was too much terrified at her situation, to attend to him. When informed of the cause, I felt that in that moment she could not be consoled, and I saw also that the violence of her sorrow would soon exhaust itself.
Don Alonzo sought an opportunity of speaking to me, which I avoided. Learning afterwards where I lived, he so ingratiated himself with madame St. Clair, that he received an invitation to her house, and in that house he now passes all his time. He has been the innocent cause of much of my suffering, yet I cannot find fault with his conduct; and madame St. Clair, devoting much of her time to his widowed sister, I have no means of escaping from him. He has informed me of many of the follies of St. Louis, of the obstinacy with which he affirmed that Don Alonzo had aided my flight, and of the means he had employed to discover me. And why, he sometimes asks, did you not suffer me to aid you? why did you not repose confidence in me?
You know my dear Mary, how eloquent are his eyes! you know the insinuating softness of his voice! Sometimes, when listening to him, I forget for a moment all I have suffered, and almost persuade myself that a man can be sincere.
The governor of Bayam is an Irish Spaniard, at least he is of an Irish family, and was born in Spain. I have become acquainted with him since the arrival of Don Alonzo, and felt, the instant I beheld him, as if I was in the society of an old acquaintance. His Irish vivacity is a little tempered by Spanish gravity. He speaks English as if he had been raised in his own country, and his mind is stored with literary treasures. He has a handsome collection of books, which he offered me. Judge of my delight at meeting with Shakspeare in the wilds of Cuba.
What could have induced him to accept this sorry government I have not yet learned, but he certainly possesses talents which merit a more important employment, and his elegant manners would add lustre to the most distinguished situation. He laughs heartily at his ragged subjects, by whom however he is regarded as a father and a friend. He says with better laws they would be the best fellows in the world; but situated as they are, their indolence is their best security.
We often make excursions in the beautiful environs of this place and dine beneath the shade of the palm tree, or the tall and graceful cocoa, which offers us in its fruit a delicious dessert, whilst the gaiety of the governor diffuses around us an indescribable charm.
But my dear sister, think not that I forget you in these delightful scenes. On the contrary I long to see you, and am hastening the moment of my departure.
Madame St. Clair, seduced by the description I have made of our peaceful country, and wearied of a place where she has known nothing but misfortune, where the talents she possesses are absolutely lost, intends going with me to Philadelphia, as soon as she can arrange her affairs, and has consented to accompany me to Kingston, from whence we can all sail together. You will love her, I am sure, for her kindness to me; but, independently of that consideration, her beauty, the graceful sweetness of her manners, and her divine voice, render it impossible to behold or listen to her with indifference.
The governor says, if he loses his two most amiable subjects, his little empire will not be worth keeping. Don Alonzo
"Looks and sighs unutterable things,"
and sometimes hints, in broken accents, the passion he has felt for me since the first moment he saw me, at all which I laugh. For me, henceforth all men are statues. I was so ill-fated as to meet that phenomenon a jealous Frenchman, and with my wounds still bleeding, would I put my happiness in the power of a Spaniard? Ah! no, let me avoid the dangerous intercourse, let me fly to my sister! Why are you so far removed from me? why did you so hastily leave the island, where you knew I must be, and in a situation too in which your counsel, your support is doubly necessary.
It will be impossible for me to leave Bayam in less than a month. We shall sail for Kingston with Anselmo. Much precaution must be used, for I must embark from St. Jago, and if I was discovered, should certainly be arrested by the governor, who is exasperated against me. Write to me, my dear girl, by the return of the vessel; and believe me that I wait with the utmost impatience for the moment that will reunite us.