“You are a modest girl to say so; and this modesty will make you ten times more amiable, especially in Mr. Hervey’s eyes. Heaven forbid that I should lessen it!”
The next morning Virginia, who always slept in the same room with Mrs. Ormond, wakened her, by crying out in her sleep, with a voice of terror, “Oh, save him!—save Mr. Hervey!—Mr. Hervey!—forgive me! forgive me!”
Mrs. Ormond drew back the curtain, and saw Virginia lying fast asleep; her beautiful face convulsed with agony.
“He’s dead!—Mr. Hervey!” cried she, in a voice of exquisite distress: then starting up, and stretching out her arms, she uttered a piercing cry, and awoke.
“My love, you have been dreaming frightfully,” said Mrs. Ormond.
“Is it all a dream?” cried Virginia, looking round fearfully.
“All a dream, my dear!” said Mrs. Ormond, taking her hand.
“I am very, very glad of it!—Let me breathe. It was, indeed, a frightful dream!”
“Your hand still trembles,” said Mrs. Ormond; “let me put back this hair from your poor face, and you will grow cool, and forget this foolish dream.”
“No; I must tell it you. I ought to tell it you. But it was all so confused, I can recollect only some parts of it. First, I remember that I thought I was not myself, but the Virginia that we were reading of the other night; and I was somewhere in the Isle of France. I thought the place was something like the forest where my grandmother’s cottage used to be, only there were high mountains and rocks, and cocoa-trees and plantains.”