The Heart's Secret; Or, the Fortunes of a Soldier: a Story of Love and the Low Latitudes.
Ballou, Maturin Murray, 1820-1895
English
We will print you a perfectly bound paperback of your selected title and send it to you at your nominated address
Below is a summary of The Heart's Secret; Or, the Fortunes of a Soldier: a Story of Love and the Low Latitudes.
This eBook was edited by Charles Aldarondo (www.aldarondo.net).
THE HEART'S SECRET:
OR, THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
BOSTON:
1852.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE.--The following Novellette was originally published
in the PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION, and is but a specimen of
the many deeply entertaining Tales, and gems of literary merit,
which grace the columns of that elegant and highly popular journal.
The COMPANION embodies a corps of contributors of rare literary
excellence, and is regarded as the ne plus ultra, by its scores of
thousands of readers.
PREFACE.
THE locale of the following story is that gem of the American
Archipelago; the Island of Cuba, whose lone star, now merged in the
sea, is destined yet to sparkle in liberty's hemisphere, and radiate
the light of republicanism. Poetry cannot outdo the fairy-like
loveliness of this tropical clime, and only those who have partaken
of the aromatic sweetness of its fields and shores can fully realize
the delight that may be shared in these low latitudes. A brief
residence upon the island afforded the author the subject-matter for
the following pages, and he has been assiduous in his efforts to
adhere strictly to geographical facts and the truthful belongings of
the island. Trusting that this may prove equally popular with the
author's other numerous tales and novelettes, he has the pleasure of
signing himself,
Very cordially,
THE PUBLIC's HUMBLE SERVANT.
DEDICATED
TO THE READERS OF
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION,
FOR WHICH JOURNAL THESE PAGES WERE ORIGINALLY WRITTEN,
BY THEIR VERY HUMBLE SERVANT,
LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
THE HEART'S SECRET.
CHAPTER I.
THE ACCIDENT.
THE soft twilight of the tropics, that loves to linger over the low
latitudes, after the departure of the long summer's day, was
breathing in zephyrs of aromatic sweetness over the shores and
plains of the beautiful Queen of the Antilles. The noise and bustle
of the day had given place to the quiet and gentle influences of the
hour; the slave had laid by his implements of labor, and now stood
at ease, while the sunburnt overseers had put off the air of
vigilance that they had worn all day, and sat or lounged lazily with
their cigars.
Here and there strolled a Montaro from the country, who, having
disposed of his load of fruit, of produce and fowls, was now
preparing to return once more inland, looking, with his long Toledo
blade and heavy spurs, more like a bandit than an honest husbandman.
The evening gun had long since boomed over the waters of the
Back