erson in the little circle who could read,
she again took up the letter, which she read aloud. Scarcely had she
finished, when Margaret exclaimed, 'What have we to do with your relations?
Has God then forsaken us? He only is our father! Have we not hitherto been
happy? Why then this regret? You have no courage.' Seeing Madame de la Tour
in tears, she threw herself upon her neck, and pressing her in her arms,
'My dear friend!' cried she, 'my dear friend!' But her emotion choked her
utterance.

"At this sight Virginia burst into tears, and pressed her mother's hand and
Margaret's alternately to her lips and to her heart: while Paul, with his
eyes inflamed with anger, cried, clasped his hands together, and stamped
with his feet, not knowing whom to blame for this scene of misery. The
noise soon led Domingo and Mary to the spot, and the little habitation
resounded with the cries of distress. Ah, Madame!--My good mistress!--My
dear mother!--Do not weep!'

"Those tender proofs of affection at length dispelled Madame de la Tour's
sorrow. She took Paul and Virginia in her arms, and, embracing them, cried,
'You are the cause of my affliction, and yet my only source of delight!
Yes, my dear children, misfortune has reached me from a distance, but
surely I am surrounded by happiness.' Paul and Virginia did not understand
this reflection; but, when they saw that she was calm, they smiled, and
continued to caress her. Thus tranquillity was restored, and what had
passed proved but a transient storm, which serves to give fresh verdure to
a beautiful spring.

"Although Madame de la Tour appeared calm in the presence of her family,
she sometimes communicated to me the feelings that preyed upon her mind,
and soon after this period gave me the following sonnet:--

SONNET

TO DISAPPOINTMENT.

Pale Disappointment! at thy freezing name
Chill fears in every shivering vein I prove;
My sinking pulse almost forgets to move,
And life almost forsakes my languid frame:
Yet thee, relentless nymph! no more I blame:
Why do my thoughts 'midst vain illusions rove?
Why gild the charms of friendship and of love
With the warm glow of fancy's purple flame?
When ruffling winds have some bright fane o'erthrown,
Which shone on painted clouds, or seem'd to shine,
Shall the fond gazer dream for him alone
Those clouds were stable, and at fate repine?
I feel alas! the fault is all my own,