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 with this little book, and take it as an apology for my silence,’ said Ambulinia, ‘while I attempt to answer this volume of consolation.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Louisa, ‘you are excusable upon this occasion; but I pray you, Ambulinia, to be expert upon this momentous subject, that there may be nothing mistrustful upon my part.’ ‘I will,’ said Ambulinia, and immediately resumed her seat and addressed the following to Elfonzo:— ‘Cumming, Ga., January 28,1844. ‘DEVOTED ELFONZO,— ‘I hail your letter as a welcome messenger of faith, and can now say truly and firmly, that my feelings correspond with yours. Nothing shall be wanting on my part to make my obedience your fidelity. Courage and perseverance will accomplish success. Receive this as my oath, that while I grasp your hand in my own imagination, we stand united before a higher tribunal than any on earth. All the powers of my life, soul, and body, I devote to thee. Whatever dangers may threaten me, I fear not to encounter them. Perhaps I have determined upon my own destruction, by leaving the house of the best of parents; be it so, I flee to you, I share your destiny, faithful to the end. The day that I have concluded upon for this task is _Sabbath_ next, when the family with the citizens are generally at church. For Heaven’s sake let not that day pass unimproved: trust not till to-morrow, it is the cheat of life—the future that never comes—the grave of many noble births—the cavern of ruined enterprise: which like the lightning’s flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the voice of him who sees can cry, _Behold! behold!!_ You may trust to what I say; no power shall tempt me to betray confidence. Suffer me to add one word more. I will soothe thee, in all thy grief, Beside the gloomy river: And though thy love may yet be brief, Mine is fixed for ever.