not been so agreeable, in return for your civility, as I
should. You were witness to a scene, Mr. Bernard, which would make it
useless to deny that I have much reason to be sad; and it makes me more
unhappy to think that I may affect others by my gloom."

"I know to what you allude," replied Bernard, "and believe me, fair
girl, sweeter to me is this sorrow in your young heart, than all the
gaudy glitter of those vain children of fashion whom we have left. But,
alas! I myself have much cause to be sad--the future looms darkly before
me, and I see but little left in life to make it long desirable."

"Oh, say not so," said Virginia, moved by the air of deep melancholy
which Bernard had assumed, but mistaking its cause. "You are young yet,
and the future should be bright. You have talents, acquirements,
everything to ensure success; and the patronage and counsel of Sir
William Berkeley will guide you in the path to honourable distinction.
Fear not, my friend, but trust hopefully in the future."

"There is one thing, alas!" said Bernard, in the same melancholy tone,
"without which success itself would scarcely be desirable."

"And what is that?" said the young girl, artlessly. "Believe me, you
will always find in me, Mr. Bernard, a warm friend, and a willing if not
an able counsellor."

"But this is not all," cried Bernard, passionately. "Does not your own
heart tell you that there must be something more than friendship to
satisfy the longings of a true heart? Oh, Virginia--yes, permit me to
call you by a name now doubly dear to me, as the home of my adoption and
as the object of my earnest love. Dearest Virginia, sweet though it be
to the heart of a lonely orphan, drifting like a sailless vessel in this
rugged world, to have such a friend, yet sweeter far would it be to live
in the sunlight of your love."

"Mr. Bernard!" exclaimed Virginia, with unfeigned surprise.

"Nay, dearest, do you, can you wonder at this revelation? I had striven,
but in vain, to conceal a hope which I knew was too daring. Oh, do not
by a word destroy the faint ray which has struggled so bravely in my
heart."

"Mr. Bernard," said Virginia, as she withdrew her arm from his, "I can
no longer permit this. If your feelings be such as you profess, and as I
believe they are--for I know your nature to be honorable--I regret that
I can only respect a sentiment which I can never return."

"Oh, say not thus, my own Virginia, just as a new life begins