ther, Virginia--but
prejudices like these are the thorns which spring up in his heart and
choke the true word of freedom, and render it unfruitful. Is it not so,
dearest?"

"You mistake his generous nature," said Virginia, earnestly. "You
mistake his love for me. You mistake his sound judgment. You mistake his
high sense of honour. Think you that he sees no difference between the
man who, impelled by principle, asserts what he believes to be a right,
and him, who for his own selfish ends and personal advancement, would
sacrifice his country. Yes, my dear friend, you mistake my father. He
will gladly interpose with the Governor and restore you to happiness, to
freedom, and to--"

She paused, unable to proceed for the sobs that choked her utterance,
and then gave vent to a flood of passionate grief.

"You would add, 'and to thee,'" said Hansford, finishing the sentence.
"God knows, my girl, that such a hope would make me dare more peril than
I have yet encountered. But, alas! if it were even as you say, what
weight would his remonstrance have with that imperious old tyrant,
Berkeley? It would be but the thistle-down against the cannon ball in
the scales of his justice."

"He dare not refuse my father's demands," said Virginia. "One who has
been so devoted to his cause, who has sacrificed so much for his king,
and who has afforded shelter and protection to the Governor himself in
the hour of his peril and need, is surely entitled to this poor favour
at his hands. He dare not refuse to grant it."

"Alas! Virginia, you little know the character of Sir William Berkeley,
when you say he dares not. But the very qualities which you claim, and
justly claim, for your father, would prevent him from exerting that
influence with the Governor which your hopes whisper would be so
successful--'His noble nature' would prompt him at any sacrifice to
yield personal feeling to a sense of public duty. 'His love for you'
would prompt him to rescue you from the _rebel_ who dared aspire to your
hand. 'His sound judgment' would dictate the maxim, that it were well
for one man to die for the people; and his 'high sense of honour' would
prevent him from interposing between a condemned _traitor_ and his
deserved doom. Be assured, Virginia, that thus would your father reason;
and with his views of loyalty and justice, I could not blame him for the
conclusion to which he came."

"Then in God's name," cried Virginia, in an agony of desperation,