Clarence uttered a deep sigh.
“But if you feel too much, my dearest Virginia,—if you give way to your feelings in this manner,” said Mrs. Ormond, “you will make both yourself and Mr. Hervey unhappy.”
“Heaven forbid! The first wish of my soul is—” She paused. “I should be the most ungrateful wretch in the world, if I were to make him unhappy.”
“But if he sees you miserable, Virginia?”
“Then he shall not see it,” said she, wiping the tears from her face.
“To imagine that you were unhappy, and that you concealed it from us, would be still worse,” said Clarence.
“But why should you imagine it?” replied Virginia; “you are too good, too kind; but do not fancy that I am not happy: I am sure I ought to be happy.”
“Do you regret your cottage?” said Clarence: “these drawings show how well you remember it.”
Virginia coloured; and, with some hesitation, answered, “Is it my fault if I cannot forget?”
“You were happier then, Virginia, than you are now, you will confess,” said Mrs. Ormond, who was not a woman of refined delicacy, and who thought that the best chance she had of working upon Mr. Hervey’s sense of honour was by making it plain to him how much her pupil’s affections were engaged.