Your care for me, dear girl, is very grateful to my feelings, and
indeed it makes me very sad to think that I may yet be the cause of so
much unhappiness to you."

"Oh, come now," said the laughing girl, "don't be sentimental. You men
think very little of ladies, if you suppose that we are incapable of
listening to anything but flattery. Now, there's Mr. Bernard has been
calling me flowers, and roses, and violets, ever since he came. For my
part, I would rather be loved as a woman, than admired as all the
flowers that grow in the world."

"Who is this Mr. Bernard?" asked Hansford.

"He is the Governor's private secretary, and a very nice fellow he seems
to be, too. He has more poetry at his finger's ends than you or I ever
read, and he is very handsome, don't you think so?"

"It is very well that I did not prolong my absence another day," said
Hansford, "or else I might have found my place in your heart supplied by
this foppish young fribble."[6]

"Nay, now, if you are going to be jealous, I will get angry," said
Virginia, trying to pout her pretty lips. "But say what you will about
him, he is very smart, and what's more, he writes poetry as well as
quotes it."

"And has he told you of all his accomplishments so soon?" said Hansford,
smiling; "for I hardly suppose you have seen a volume of his works,
unless he brought it here with him. What else can he do? Perhaps he
plays the flute, and dances divinely; and may-be, but for 'the vile
guns, he might have been a soldier.' He looks a good deal like Hotspur's
dandy to my eyes."

"Oh, don't be so ill-natured," said Virginia, "He never would have told
about his writing poetry, but father guessed it."

"Your father must have infinite penetration then," said Hansford, "for I
really do not think the young gentleman looks much as though he could
tear himself from the mirror long enough to use his pen."

"Well, but he has written a masque, to be performed day-after-to-morrow
night, at the palace, to celebrate Lady Frances' birth-day. Are you not
going to the ball. Of course you'll be invited."

"No, dearest," said Hansford, with a sigh. "Sir William Berkeley might
give me a more unwelcome welcome than to a masque."

"What on earth do you mean?" said Virginia, turning pale with alarm.
"You have not--"

"Nay, you shall know all to-morrow," replied Hansford.

"Tom," cried Colonel Temple, in his loud, merry voice, "stop cooing
there, and tell me where you have been all