“Hark! methinks I hear celestial voices sing,
Soon thou shalt be free, child of misery,—
Rest and perfect joy in heaven are waiting thee;
Spirit, plume thy wings and flee!”
I struck a few notes, by way of acknowledgment, and left.
The next night I merely whistled the remembered air in token of my presence. A light appeared for a moment at the window, and then was removed. I crept up close to the house. On that side of it where Estelle was confined there were no piazzas. I had not waited two minutes when something touched my head and bobbed before my eyes. It was a little roll of paper. I detached it from the string to which it was tied; and then, taking from my pocket an old envelope, I wrote on it in the dark these words: “To-morrow night at ten o’clock down the string. If prevented, then any night after at the same hour. Love shall find a way. Forever.”
The letter which I found folded in the paper lies yet in my pocket-book, but I need not look at it in order to repeat it entire. It is in these words:—‚Î
“What shall I call thee? Dearest? But that word implies a comparative; and whom shall I compare with thee? Most precious and most beloved? O, that is not a tithe of it! Idol? Darling? Sweet? Pretty words, but insufficient. Ah! life of my life, there are no superlatives in language that can interpret to thee the unspeakable affection which swells in my heart and moistens my eyes as I commence this letter! Can we by words give an idea of a melody? No more can I put on paper what my heart would be whispering to thine. Forgive the effort and the failure.
“I have the freedom of the upper story of the house, and my room is where you saw the scarf. Two strong negro women, with sinister faces, and employed as seamstresses, watch me every time I cross the threshold. At night I am locked in. The windows, as you may see, are always secured by iron bars.
“Ratcliff hopes to subdue me by slow approaches. O, the unutterable loathing which he inspires! He has placed impure books in my way. He sends me the daintiest food and wines. I confine myself to bread, vegetables, and cream. He cannot drug me without my knowledge. Twice and sometimes three times a day he visits me, and, finding me firm in my resolve, retires with a self-satisfied air which maddens me. He evidently believes in my final submission. No! Sooner, death! on my knees I swear it.