nd blessed when
adorned by your smiles. Without the former, your smile and your love
would add bitterness to the cup that dishonour would bid me quaff. And
now, Virginia, farewell. The night air has chilled you, dearest--then
go, and remember me in your dreams. One fond kiss, to keep virgined upon
my lips till we meet again. Farewell, Mamalis--be faithful to your kind
mistress." And then imprinting one long, last kiss upon the fair cheek
of the trusting Virginia, he turned from the door, and was soon lost
from their sight in the dense forest.

Once more in her own little room, Virginia, with a grateful heart, fell
upon her knees, and poured forth her thanks to Him, who had thus far
prospered her endeavours to minister to the cares and sorrows of her
lover. With a calmer heart she sought repose, and wept herself to sleep
with almost happy tears. Hansford, in the mean time, pursued his quiet
way through the forest, his pathway sufficiently illumined by the pale
moonlight, which came trembling through the moaning trees. The thoughts
of the young rebel were fitfully gloomy or pleasant, as despondency and
hope alternated in his breast. In that lonely walk he had an opportunity
to reflect calmly and fully upon his past life. The present was indeed
clouded with danger, and the future with uncertainty and gloom. Yet, in
this self-examination, he saw nothing to justify reproach or to awaken
regret. He scanned his motives, and he felt that they were pure. He
reviewed his acts, and he saw in them but the struggles of a brave, free
man in the maintenance of the right. The enterprise in which he had
engaged had indeed failed, but its want of success did not affect the
holiness of the design. Even in its failure, he proudly hoped that the
seeds of truth had been sown in the popular mind, which might hereafter
germinate and be developed into freedom. As these thoughts passed
through his mind, a dim dream of the future glories of his country
flashed across him. The bright heaven of the future seemed to open
before him, as before the eyes of the dying Stephen--but soon it closed
again, and all was dark.

The wigwam which he entered, after a walk of about half an hour, was
desolate enough, but its very loneliness made it a better safeguard
against the vigilance of his pursuers. He closed the aperture which
served for the door, with the large mat used for the purpose; then
carefully priming his pistols, which he kept constantly by him in