When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became so much depressed in spirits that many of his friends thought it advisable to use other means to bring about the happy union.  “Strange,” said he, “that the contents of this diminutive letter should cause me to have such depressed feelings; but there is a nobler theme than this.  I know not why my military title is not as great as that of squire Valeer.  For my life I cannot see that my ancestors are inferior to those who are so bitterly opposed to my marriage with Ambulinia.  I know I have seen huge mountains before me, yet, when I think that I know gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate matter, should I become angry at fools and babblers, who pride themselves in their impudence and ignorance?  No.  My equals!  I know not where to find them.  My inferiors!  I think it beneath me; and my superiors!  I think it presumption; therefore, if this youthful heart is protected by any of the divine rights, I never will betray my trust.”

He was aware that Ambulinia had a confidence that was, indeed, as firm and as resolute as she was beautiful and interesting.  He hastened to the cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual mode of pleasantness, and informed him that Ambulinia had just that moment left.  “Is it possible?” said Elfonzo.  “Oh, murdered hours!  Why did she not remain and be the guardian of my secrets?  But hasten and tell me how she has stood this trying scene, and what are her future determinations.”  “You know,” said Louisa, “Major Elfonzo, that you have Ambulinia’s first love, which is of no small consequence.  She came here about twilight, and shed many precious tears in consequence of her own fate with yours.  We walked silently in yon little valley you see, where we spent a momentary repose.  She seemed to be quite as determined as ever, and before we left that beautiful spot she offered up a prayer to Heaven for thee.”  “I will see her then,” replied Elfonzo, “though legions of enemies may oppose.  She is mine by foreordination —­she is mine by prophesy—­she is mine by her own free will, and I will rescue her from the hands of her oppressors.  Will you not, Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture?”

“I will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence,” answered Louisa, “endeavor to break those slavish chains that bind the richest of prizes; though allow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh means on this important occasion; take a decided stand, and write freely to Ambulinia upon this subject, and I will see that no intervening cause hinders its passage to her.  God alone will save a mourning people.  Now is the day and now is the hour to obey a command of such valuable worth.”  The Major felt himself grow stronger after this short interview with Louisa.  He felt as if he could whip his weight in wildcats —­he knew he was master of his own feelings, and could now write a letter that would bring this litigation to an issue.