Wlliam Gilmore Simms
Mellichampe: A Legend of the Santee >> Chapter XIV: Thumbscrew in Practice >> Page 123

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Novel (Romance) | Redfield | 1854
Thus soliloquizing, she approached the couch where Rose
Duncan was sleeping.
"Rose�Rose!" She called to her without receiving any
answer. Assured that she slept, Janet did not seek to disturb
her ; but, after a hurried prayer, which she uttered while kneel
ing by the bedside, she rose with new courage, and, without
further hesitation, unclosed the door, passed into the corridor,
and descended to meet her daring-lover. Little did she dream
that the eyes of hate and jealousy were upon her ; that a ma-
lignant foe was no less watchful than- a fervent lover; that
one stood in waiting, seeking her love, and, at the same time,
no less earnestly desirous of the heart's blood of her lover !
She emerged into the court, which she hurried over incau-
tiously, and was received by Mellichampe at the entrance of
the garden. He took her to his arms he led her away to
the shelter of the great magnolias that towered in a frowning
group from its centre ; and the joy of their meeting, in that
season and country of peril, almost took away the sting and
the sorrow which had followed their separation, and now ne-
cessarily came with their present dangers. The happiness of
Mellichampe was a tumult that could only speak in broken
exclamations of delight ; that of Janet was a subdued pleasure
-- a sort of bright., spiritual, moonlight gleam, that came steal-
ing through clouds, mingled with falling drops, that were only
not oppressive as they seemed to fall from heaven.
Dear, dearest Janet my own Janet my only! I have
you at last; your hand is in mine your eyes look into my
own. I can not doubt that you are with me now. I believe
it �I know it, by this new-born joy which is beating in my
heart. Ali, dearest, but for that tory reptile, this rapture would
have been mine before. But you are here at last, and, while
you are with me, I will not think of him. I will think of
nothing to vex ; I will know but one thought, but one
feeling �the long-cherished, dearest of all, Janet the feel-
ing of' adoration, of devoted love, which my bosom bears for
The youth, as he spoke, had clasped her hands both in his,
and his eyes looked for hers, which were cast down upon the