whom you have
called your friend? Nay, fair maiden, be truthful even though you
should be cruel."

"To be candid, then, Mr. Bernard," returned Virginia, "I thought we had
long ago consented not to mention that subject again. I hope you will be
faithful to your promise."

"My dearest Virginia, that compact was made when your heart had been
given to another whom you thought worthy to reign there. Surely, you
cannot, after the events of to-night oppose such an obstacle to my suit.
Your gentle heart, my girl, is too pure and holy a shrine to afford
refuge to a rebel, and a profaner of woman's sacred rights."

"Mr. Bernard," said Virginia, "another word on this subject, and I seek
refuge myself from your insults. You, who are the avowed champion of
woman's rights, should know that she owns no right so sacred as to
control the affections of her own heart. I have before told you in terms
too plain to be misunderstood, that I can never love you. Force me not
to repeat what you profess may give you pain, and above all force me not
by your unwelcome and ungenerous assaults upon an absent rival to
substitute for the real interest which I feel in your happiness, a
feeling more strong and decided, but less friendly."

"You mean that you would hate me," said Bernard, cut to the heart at her
language, at once so firm and decided, yet so guarded and courteous.
"Very well," he added, with an hauteur but illy assumed. "I trust I have
more independence and self-respect than to intrude my attentions or
conversation where they are unwelcome. But see, our journey is at an
end, and though Miss Temple might have made it more pleasant, I am glad
that we are freed from the embarrassment that we both must feel in a
more extended interview."

And now the loud voice of Captain Gardiner is heard demanding their
names and wishes, which are soon told. The hoarse cable grates harshly
along the ribs of the vessel, and the boats are drawn up close to her
broadside, and the loyal fugitives ascending the rude and tremulous
rope-ladder, stand safe and sound upon the deck of the Adam and Eve.

Scarcely had Berkeley and his adherents departed on their flight from
Jamestown, when some of the disaffected citizens of the town, seeing the
lights in the palace so suddenly extinguished, shrewdly suspected their
design. Without staying to ascertain the truth of their suspicions, they
hastened with the intelligence to General Bacon, and threw open the
gates t