And humble servant,
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER II
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
I am come from Mr. Valmont's study.—Can it be?—Oh yes! I am come from Mr. Valmont's presence, to write a letter—a letter to you!—Ah, Miss Ashburn!—to write a letter to you by my uncle's——Can command ever be indulgence?—No, no. I will not believe that:—No, not even would I believe it, though, when my heart expands with swelling emotion, he were then also to command me to——. Miss Ashburn, the command of Mr. Valmont in this, as in all other instances, is stern and repulsive, but, as his commands are odious to my acceptation, so, in equal degree, is the action of writing a letter to you grateful, delightful, overwhelming!
How came it?—How have you prevailed?—Oh teach me your art to soften his power, to unloose the grasp of his authority, and I will love you as——I believe I cannot love you better than I do; for have you not cast a ray of cheering light upon my dungeon?—Have you not bestowed upon me the only charm of existence that I have known for many and many a tedious day?
But why did you do so? Do you love me as I love you? You never told me so. Seven days and seven nights you lived in our castle; and you walked with me by day, you wandered with me by night. I talked to you almost without ceasing.—You spoke infinitely less than I did.—You pressed my hand as it held yours: but you never said, I love you!—I love you, Sibella, with all my soul.—Nor did you ever quit your rest, amidst the darkness of the night, to hover near my chamber, as I have done near yours.—Yes, Miss Ashburn, when at night you had retired from me, I beheld only solitude and imprisonment; and I have waited hours in that forlorn gallery, that I might catch the whisper of your breathings, that the consciousness of being near a friend might restore me to hope, to hilarity, to confidence.
Yet now I recollect it, and you do love me; for you asked the imperious, the denying Mr. Valmont, to let you take me from the castle. Oh, you did urge—you did intreat.—You do love me.—I am writing a letter to you; and perhaps, one day, I shall have all my happiness.