“Perfectly! perfectly!—I am convinced that Virginia is only half mad. But let me go on with my story. I was determined to discover whether she had any remains of affection for this captain. It was in vain he assured me that she had never seen him. I prevailed upon him to let me go on my own way. I inquired whether he had ever had his picture drawn. Yes, he had for his mother, just when he first went out to sea. It had been left at the widow Smith’s. I begged him to procure it for me. He told me it was impossible. I told him I trampled on impossibilities. In short, he got the picture for me, as you see. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘if he speaks the truth, Virginia will see this picture without emotion, and it will only seem to be a present for Clarence. But if she had ever seen him before, or had any secret to conceal, she will betray herself on the sudden appearance of this picture.’ Things have turned out contrary to all my expectations, and yet better.———And now, Clarence, I must beg you will prevail on Miss Hartley to appear; I can go on no farther without her.”
Lady Delacour took Virginia by the hand, the moment she entered the room.
“Will you trust yourself with me, Miss Hartley?” said she. “I have made you faint once to-day by the sight of a picture; will you promise me not to faint again, when I produce the original?”
“The original!” said Virginia. “I will trust myself with you, for I am sure you cannot mean to laugh at me, though, perhaps, I deserve to be laughed at.”
Lady Delacour threw open the door of another apartment. Mr. Hartley appeared, and with him Captain Sunderland.
“My dear daughter,” said Mr. Hartley, “give me leave to introduce to you a friend, to whom I owe more obligations than to any man living, except to Mr. Hervey. This gentleman was stationed some years ago at Jamaica, and in a rebellion of the negroes on my plantation he saved my life. Fortune has accidentally thrown my benefactor in my way. To show my sense of my obligations is out of my power.”
Virginia’s surprise was extreme; her vivid dreams, the fond wishes of her waking fancy, were at once accomplished. For the first moment she gazed as on an animated picture, and all the ideas of love and romance associated with this image rushed upon her mind.
But when the realities by which he was surrounded dispelled the illusion, she suddenly withdrew her eyes, and blushed deeply, with such timid and graceful modesty as charmed every body present.
Captain Sunderland pressed forward; but was stopped by Lady Delacour.
“Avaunt, thou real lover!” cried she: “none but the shadow of a man can hope to approach the visionary maid. In vain has Marraton forced his way through the bushes and briars, in vain has he braved the apparition of the lion; there is yet a phantom barrier apparently impassable between him and his Yaratilda, for he is in the world of shadows. Now, mark me, Marraton: hurry not this delicate spirit, or perchance you frighten and lose her for ever; but have patience, and gradually and gracefully she will venture into your world of realities—only give her time.”