a
heart which rises superior to itself, in its devotion to honour, it is
impossible to love truly. Love is not a pretty child, to be crowned with
roses, and adorned with trinkets, and wooed by soft music. To the truly
brave, it is a god to be worshipped, a reward to be attained, and to be
attained only in the path of honour!"

"I think," said Mrs. Temple, looking towards the wood, "that Virginia's
song acted as an incantation. If I mistake not, Master Hansford is even
now coming to explain his own negligence."

FOOTNOTES:

[3] I have taken these beautiful memoirs, now known to be the production
of a modern pen, to be genuine. Their truthfulness to nature certainly
will justify me in such a liberty.

[4] The modern reader will need some explanation of this old game, whose
terms seem, to the refined ears of the present day, a little profane.
Barley-break resembled a game which I have seen played in my own time,
called King Cantelope, but with some striking points of difference. In
the old game, the play-ground was divided into three parts of equal
size, and the middle of these sections was known by the name of hell.
The boy and girl, whose position was in this place, were to attempt,
with joined hands, to catch those who should try to pass from one
section to the other. As each one was caught, he became a recruit for
the couple in the middle, and the last couple who remained uncaught took
the places of those in hell, and thus the game commenced again.

[5] The lady to whom the song is addressed. It may be found in Percy's
Reliques, or in almost any volume of old English poetry.

CHAPTER IV.

"Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed,
Fresh as a bridegroom."
_Henry IV._

In truth a young man, well mounted on a powerful bay, was seen
approaching from the forest, that lay towards Jamestown. Virginia's
cheek flushed with pleasure as she thought how soon all her fears would
vanish away in the presence of her lover--and she laughed confusedly, as
her father said,

"Aye, come dry your tears, you little rogue--those eyes are not as
bright as Hansford would like to see. Tears are very pretty in poetry
and fancy, but when associated with swelled eyes and red noses, they
lose something of their sentiment."

As the horseman came nearer, however, Virginia found to her great
disappointment, that the form was not that of Hansford, and with a deep
sigh she