roach her bitterly for having deceived him.
She told us that a favourable wind having sprung up at three o'clock in
the morning, and the vessel being ready to sail, the governor, attended
by some of his staff and the missionary, had come with a palanquin to
fetch her daughter; and that, notwithstanding Virginia's objections, her
own tears and entreaties, and the lamentations of Margaret, every body
exclaiming all the time that it was for the general welfare, they had
carried her away almost dying. "At least," cried Paul, "if I had bid
her farewell, I should now be more calm. I would have said to
her,--'Virginia, if, during the time we have lived together, one word
may have escaped me which has offended you, before you leave me forever,
tell me that you forgive me.' I would have said to her,--'Since I am
destined to see you no more, farewell, my dear Virginia, farewell! Live
far from me, contented and happy!'" When he saw that his mother and
Madame de la Tour were weeping,--"You must now," said he, "seek some
other hand to wipe away your tears;" and then, rushing out of the house,
and groaning aloud, he wandered up and down the plantation. He hovered
in particular about those spots which had been most endeared to
Virginia. He said to the goats, and their little ones, which followed
him, bleating,--"What do you want of me? You will see with me no more
her who used to feed you with her own hand." He went to the bower called
Virginia's Resting-place, and, as the birds flew around him, exclaimed,
"Poor birds! you will fly no more to meet her who cherished you!"--and
observing Fidele running backwards and forwards in search of her, he
heaved a deep sigh, and cried,--"Ah! you will never find her again."
At length he went and seated himself upon a rock where he had conversed
with her the preceding evening; and at the sight of the ocean upon which
he had seen the vessel disappear which had borne her away, his heart
overflowed with anguish, and he wept bitterly.

We continually watched his movements, apprehensive of some fatal
consequence from the violent agitation of his mind. His mother and
Madame de la Tour conjured him, in the most tender manner, not to
increase their affliction by his despair. At length the latter soothed
his mind by lavishing upon him epithets calculated to awaken his
hopes,--calling him her son, her dear son, her son-in-law, whom she
destined for her daughter. She persuaded him to return home, and to take