ng, she rose, and taking Bernard's arm, she seated herself at
Lady Frances' splendid harp, which was sent from England as a present by
her brother-in-law, Lord Berkeley. Drawing off her white gloves, and
running her little tapering fingers over the strings, Virginia played a
melancholy symphony, which accorded well with the sad words that came
more sadly on the ear through the medium of her plaintive voice:--

"Fondly they loved, and her trusting heart
With the hopes of the future bounded,
Till the trumpet of Freedom condemned them to part,
And the knell of their happiness sounded.

"But his is a churl's and a traitor's choice,
Who, deaf to the call of duty,
Would linger, allured by a syren's voice,
On the Circean island of beauty.

"His country called! he had heard the sound,
And kissed the pale cheek of the maiden,
Then staunched with his blood his country's wound,
And ascended in glory to Aidenn.

"The shout of victory lulled him to sleep
The slumber that knows no dreaming,
But a martyr's reward he will proudly reap,
In the grateful tears of Freemen.

"And long shall the maidens remember her love,
And heroes shall dwell on his story;
She died in her constancy like the lone dove,
But he like an eagle in glory.

"Oh let the dark cypress mourn over her grave,
And light rest the green turf upon her;
While over his ashes the laurel shall wave,
For he sleeps in the proud bed of honour."

The reader need not be told that this simple little ballad derived new
beauty from the feeling with which Virginia sang it. The remote
connection of its story with her own love imparted additional sadness to
her sweet voice, and as she dwelt on the last line, her eyes filled with
tears and her voice trembled. Bernard marked the effect which had been
produced, and a thrill of jealousy shot through his heart at seeing this
new evidence of the young girl's constancy.

But while he better understood her feelings than others around her, all
admired the plaintive manner in which she had rendered the sentiment of
the song, and attributed her emotion to her own refined appreciation and
taste. Many were the compliments which were paid to the fair young
minstrel by old and young; by simpering beaux and generous maidens. Sir
William Berkeley, himself, gallantly kissed her cheek, and said that
Lady Frances might well be