"I am very glad that he would not think me ungrateful--but if he knew that I dream of them sometimes?"

"He would think you dreamed, as all people do, of what they think of in the daytime."

"And he would not be angry? I am very glad of it. But I once saw a picture--"

"I know you did--well," said Mrs. Ormond, "and your grandmother was frightened because it was the picture of a man--hey? If she was not your grandmother, I should say that she was a simpleton. I a.s.sure you, Mr.

Hervey is not like her, if that is what you mean to ask. He would not be angry at your having seen fifty pictures."

"I am glad of it--but I see it very often in my dreams."

"Well, if you had seen more pictures, you would not see this so often.

It was the first you ever saw, and very naturally you remember it, Mr.

Hervey would not be angry at that," said Mrs. Ormond, laughing.

"But sometimes, in my dreams, it speaks to me."

"And what does it say?"

"The same sort of things that those heroes I read of say to their mistresses."

"And do you never, in your dreams, hear Mr. Hervey say this sort of things?"

"No."

"And do you never see Mr. Hervey in these dreams?"

"Sometimes; but he does not speak to me; he does not look at me with the same sort of tenderness, and he does not throw himself at my feet."

"No; because he has never done all this in reality."

"No; and I wonder how I come to dream of such things."

"So do I; but you have read and thought of them, it is plain. Now go to sleep, there's my good girl; that is the best thing you can do at present--go to sleep."

It was not long after this conversation that Sir Philip Baddely and Mr.

Rochfort scaled the garden wall, to obtain a sight of Clarence Hervey's mistress. Virginia was astonished, terrified, and disgusted, by their appearance; they seemed to her a species of animals for which she had no name, and of which she had no prototype in her imagination. That they were men she saw; but they were clearly not _Clarence Herveys_: they bore still less resemblance to the courteous knights of chivalry. Their language was so different from any of the books she had read, and any of the conversations she had heard, that they were scarcely intelligible.

After they had forced themselves into her presence, they did not scruple to address her in the most unceremonious manner. Amongst other rude things, they said, "Damme, my pretty dear, you cannot love the man that keeps you prisoner in this manner, hey? Damme, you'd better come and live with one of us. You can't love this tyrant of a fellow."

"He is not a tyrant--I _do_ love him as much as I detest you," cried Virginia, shrinking from him with looks of horror.

"Damme! good actress! Put her on the stage when he is tired of her. So you won't come with us?--Good bye, till we see you again. You're right, my girl, to be upon your good behaviour; may be you may get him to marry you, child!"

Virginia, upon hearing this speech, turned from the man who insulted her with a degree of haughty indignation, of which her gentle nature had never before appeared capable.

Mrs. Ormond hoped, that after the alarm was over, the circ.u.mstance would pa.s.s away from her pupil's mind; but on the contrary, it left the most forcible impression. Virginia became silent and melancholy, and whole hours were spent in reverie. Mrs. Ormond imagined, that notwithstanding Virginia's entire ignorance of the world, she had acquired from books sufficient knowledge to be alarmed at the idea of being taken for Clarence Hervey's mistress. She touched upon this subject with much delicacy, and the answers that she received confirmed her opinion.

Virginia had been inspired by romances with the most exalted notions of female delicacy and honour! but from her perfect ignorance, these were rather vague ideas than principles of conduct.

"We shall see Mr. Hervey to-morrow; he has written me word that he will come from town, and spend the day with us."

"I shall be ashamed to see him after what has pa.s.sed," said Virginia.

"You have no cause for shame, my dear; Mr. Hervey will try to discover the persons who insulted you, and he will punish them. They will never return here; you need not fear that. He is willing and able to protect you."

"Yes of that I am sure. But what did that strange man mean, when he said--"

"What, my dear?"

"That, perhaps, Mr. Hervey would marry me."

Virginia p.r.o.nounced these words with difficulty. Mrs. Ormond was silent, for she was much embarra.s.sed. Virginia having conquered her first difficulty, seemed resolute to obtain an answer.

"You do not speak to me! Will you not tell me, dear Mrs. Ormond," said she, hanging upon her fondly, "what did he mean?"

"What he said, I suppose."

"But he said, that if I behaved well, I might get Mr. Hervey to marry me. What did he mean by that?" said Virginia, in an accent of offended pride.

"He spoke very rudely and improperly; but it is not worth while to think of what he said, or what he meant."

"But, dear Mrs. Ormond, do not go away from me now: I never so much wished to speak to you in my whole life, and you turn away from me."

"Well, my love, well, what would you say?"

"Tell me one thing, only one thing, and you will set my heart at ease.

Does Mr. Hervey _wish_ me to be his wife?"

"I cannot tell you that, my dearest Virginia. Time will show us. Perhaps his heart has not yet decided."

"I wish it would decide," said Virginia, sighing deeply; "and I wish that strange man had not told me any thing about the matter; it has made me very unhappy."

She covered her eyes with her hand, but the tears trickled between her fingers, and rolled fast down her arm. Mrs. Ormond, quite overcome by the sight of her distress, was no longer able to keep the secret with which she had been entrusted by Clarence Hervey. And after all, thought she, Virginia will hear it from himself soon. I shall only spare her some unnecessary pain; it is cruel to see her thus, and to keep her in suspense. Besides, her weakness might be her ruin, in his opinion, if it were to extinguish all her energy, and deprive her of the very power of pleasing. How wan she looks, and how heavy are those sleepless eyes!

She is not, indeed, in a condition to meet him, when he comes to us to-morrow: if she had some hopes, she would revive and appear with her natural ease and grace.

"My sweet child," said Mrs. Ormond, "I cannot bear to see you so melancholy; consider, Mr. Hervey will be with us to-morrow, and it will give him a great deal of pain to see you so."

"Will it? Then I will try to be very gay."

Mrs. Ormond was so delighted to see Virginia smile, that she could not forbear adding, "The strange man was not wrong in every thing he said; you _will_, one of these days, be Mr. Hervey's wife."

"That, I am sure," said Virginia, bursting again into tears, "that, I am sure, I do not wish, unless _he_ does."

"He does, he does, my dear--do not let this delicacy of yours, which has been wound up too high, make you miserable. He thought of you, he loved you long and long ago."

"He is very good, too good," said Virginia, sobbing.

"Nay, what is more--for I can keep nothing from you--he has been educating you all this time on purpose for his wife, and he only waits till your education is finished, and till he is sure that you feel no repugnance for him."

"I should be very ungrateful if I felt any repugnance for him," said Virginia; "I feel none."