favour for Bernard, I suppose. Well, any thing for a moment's
respite from these troublesome rebels. Show her up, Dabney."

In another moment the door again opened, and Virginia Temple, pale and
trembling, fell upon her knees before the Governor, and raised her soft,
blue eyes to his face so imploringly, that the heart of the old man was
moved to pity.

"Rise, my daughter," he said, tenderly; "tell me your cause of grief. It
surely cannot be so deep as to bring you thus upon your knees to an old
friend. Rise then, and tell me."

"Oh, thank you," she said, with a trembling voice, "I knew that you were
kind, and would listen to my prayer."

"Well, Virginia," said the Governor, in the same mild tone, "let me hear
your request? You know, we old servants of the king have not much time
to spare at best, and these are busy times. Is your father well, and
your good mother? Can I serve them in any thing?"

"They are both well and happy, nor do they need your aid," said
Virginia; "but I, sir, oh! how can I speak. I have come from Windsor
Hall to ask that you will be just and merciful. There is, sir, a brave
man here in chains, who is doomed to die--to die to-morrow. Oh,
Hansford, Hansford!" and unable longer to control her emotion, the poor,
broken-hearted girl burst into an agony of tears.

Berkeley's brow clouded in an instant.

"And is it for that unhappy man, my poor girl, that you have come alone
to sue?"

"I did not come alone," replied Virginia; "my father is with me, and
will himself unite in my request."

"I will be most happy to see my old friend again, but I would that he
came on some less hopeless errand. Major Hansford must die. The laws
alike of his God and his country, which he has trampled regardless under
foot, require the sacrifice of his blood."

"But, for the interposition of mercy," urged the poor girl, "the laws of
God require the death of all--and the laws of his country have vested in
you the right to arrest their rigour at your will. Oh, how much sweeter
to be merciful than sternly just!"

"Nay, my poor girl," said Sir William, "you speak of what you cannot
understand, and your own griefs have blinded your mind. Justice,
Virginia, is mercy; for by punishing the offender it prevents the
repetition of the offence. The vengeance of the law thus becomes the
safeguard of society, and the sword of justice becomes the sceptre of
righteousness."

"I cannot reason with you," returned Virginia. "You