LETTER OF LEONORA D'ORCO TO LORENZO VISCONTI.
"It has come--it has come! Oh, yes, it has come at length. Dear
Lorenzo, my own Lorenzo, forgive me if I am wild with joy. How I have
longed, how I have looked for this letter! longed and looked, till
hope itself grew very like despair! and yet what a fool I was to
expect it sooner. You would not write till you reached Naples. I knew
it well; you told me so. But what a time has it seemed! Oh, those
three months between the day of your departure and the day when you
wrote--three _short_ months, people would say; three long ages to
me--how slowly, how heavily have they passed away!
"I believe the sun has shone and the sky been clear, and winter has
gone and spring has come again, and the earth, grown weary of having
no flowers, is putting out blossoms on every spray, and sprinkling the
ground with gems; but every day has been a day of mist and darkness to
me, a night of fear and dread.
"Consider that I knew nought of your fate--that in every siege or
battle that took place my whole hopes, my whole happiness was perilled
upon each stroke that fell. I could bear it, dear Lorenzo, if I were
near. I could ride with you through the thickest of the fight; no weak
terror, no idle cautions should keep you back, or distract your mind,
or bate your daring, or paralyse your arm, were I but near to bathe
your brow, or pillow your head, or soothe your pain, if you came back
sick and wounded. But you were alone, with none but menials near you.
In the hour of anguish or of death there was no Leonora to console, to
comfort, to tend you, and, at the last, to go hand in hand with you on
high, and be your sister in a better world. This is what gave
poignancy to all the sorrows of absence.
"But why should I plead my cause with you as if you would blame my
terror; or think hardly of the anxieties I have felt? I know you can
understand them--I know you can sympathise with them. Yes, yes, you
have been apprehensive and anxious for me--I see it in every line of
your letter--for me, whose days have passed without event or incident,
without danger and without fear.
"Oh, my beloved, what can be more wearisome, what can be more full of
dark, dull dread than those still, eventless days, when, like a
prisoner in his solitary cell, our soul sits expecting the blow of
fate.
"But it has come--the dear assuaging letter has come to tell me that
you are safe, that you are well, that you love me still, that your
heart yearns for our meeting. It was long upon its way; but I, do
believe poor Antonio brought it as fast as he could. I think he knew
how I longed for its coming--how I longed for yours.
"Oh, how I long for it still, my Lorenzo; and yet there is a pleasure
in having to write. I can tell you on this page--I can dare to own to
you more than I could by spoken words. This paper cannot see my cheek
glow, nor, though cold and unsympathetic as the world, can it smile
coldly at feelings it cannot comprehend. Oh yes, there are many
hundred miles between us, and I dare pour out my whole heart to you. I
dare tell you how much I love you; how you have become part of my
happiness--of my being; how my existence is wrapped up in yours.
"When I think of that long journey together--of that journey which
your noble nature made safe for me, and oh! how happy too, I thank
Heaven, which has made me know a man whom I can reverence as well as
love.
"Even as I write, the memory of those sweet days comes back, every
act, every word, every look is remembered. The tones that were music
to me, the look that was light, are present to my eye and ear; my head
upon your bosom; your eyes look into mine, and the burning kisses go
thrilling through my veins into my heart.
"Oh come soon, Lorenzo, come and realize all our dreams; blot out this
long period of anxious absence from my memory, or only leave it as a
dark contrast to our bright joy. I can part with you no more, my
beloved; I must go with you where you go. Nothing now opposes our
union; you say my father's consent is given. Let me have the right to
be with you everywhere, whether in the city or the camp. Let me be
your companion, your friend, your consolation, and you shall be my
guide, my protector, my husband.
"How wildly, how madly I write! some would say how unwomanly. Let them
say what they please. They who blame have never loved as we have
loved--have never trusted as we trust; or else they have never known
you, and cannot comprehend how worthy you are of seeing a clear
picture of Leonora's heart, how little capable of misinterpreting one
word she writes, or abusing one feeling which you yourself have
inspired.
"Perhaps, were you here, I could not tell you all this; my tongue
might hesitate, my voice might fail me, but the same sensations would
be within, and the words, unspoken, would be written in my heart.
"It is hard to come forth from our own separate world, and speak of
the things of the common, every-day life. Indeed, I have nothing to
tell, for I have lived in my own dear world ever since you left me;
but one thing I must mention. Tell the Marquis de Vitry that I have
heard from my dear cousin Blanche Marie, and she wishes to know if he
wears her glove still, and what fortune it has found. She says, if he
has not forgotten her, and any couriers pass by Pavia, she would fain
hear of his health.
"This is the way in which I ought to write to you, I suppose, Lorenzo;
but I cannot do so; and yet, Heaven bless the dear girl, and grant
that her union with De Vitry may be as happy as ours. She well
deserves as much happiness as can be found on earth, for she has ever
preferred others to herself. I almost feel selfish when I compare
myself with her, and consider how completely your love has absorbed
every thought and feeling of your LEONORA."