"Go to Lord Angelo,
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,
Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as freely theirs,
As they themselves would owe them."
_Measure for Measure._
It were impossible to describe the silent agony of Virginia Temple, when
she learned from Holliday, on the following morning, the capture of
Hansford. She felt that it was the wreck of all her hopes, and that the
last thread which still hung between her and despair was snapped. But
even in that dark hour, her strength of mind, and her firmness of
purpose forsook her not. There was still a duty for her to perform in
endeavouring to procure his pardon, and she entertained, with the
trusting confidence of her young heart, the strong hope that Berkeley
would grant her request. On this sacred errand she determined to go at
once. Although she did not dream of the full extent of Bernard's
hypocrisy, yet all his efforts had been unavailing to restore full
confidence in his sincerity. She dared not trust a matter of such
importance to another, especially when she had reason to suspect that
that other was far from being friendly in his feelings towards her
lover. Once determined on her course, she lost no time in informing her
parents of her resolution; and so, when they were all seated around the
breakfast-table, she said quietly, but firmly--
"I am going to Accomac to-day, father."
"To where!" cried her mother; "why surely, child, you must be out of
your senses."
"No, dearest mother, my calmness is not an indication of insanity. If I
should neglect this sacred duty, you might then indeed tremble for my
reason."
"What in the world are you thinking of, Jeanie!" said her father, in his
turn surprised at this sudden resolution; "what duties can call you to
Accomac?"
"I go to save life," replied Virginia. "Can you wonder, my father, that
when I see all that I hold dearest in life just trembling on the verge
of destruction, I should desire to do all in my power to save it."
"You are right, my child," replied her father, tenderly; "if it were
possible for you to accomplish any good. But what can you do to rescue
Hansford from the hand of justice?"
"Of justice!" said Virginia, "and can you unite with those, my dear
father, who profane the name of justice by applying it to the relentless
cruelty with which blind vengeance pursues its victims?"
"Ah, Jeanie!" said her father, smiling, as he pressed her hand tenderly;
"you should remember, in language of the quaint old satirist, Butler,
'No thief e'er felt the halter draw,
With good opinion of the law;'
and although I would not apply the bitter couplet to my little Jeanie in
its full force, yet she must own that her interest in its present
application, prevents her from being a very competent judge of its
propriety and justice."
"But surely, dear father, you cannot think that these violent measures
against the unhappy parties to the late rebellion, are either just or
politic?"
"I grant, my child, that to my own mind, a far more humane policy might
be pursued consistent with the ends of justice. To inspire terror in a
subject is not the surest means to secure his allegiance or his love for
government. I am sure, if you were afraid of your old father, and
always in dread of his wrath and authority, you would not love him as
you do, Jeanie--and government is at last nothing but a larger family."
"Well, then," returned the artless girl, "why should I not go to Sir
William Berkeley, and represent to him the harshness of his course, and
the propriety of tempering his revenge with mercy?"
"First, my daughter, because I have only expressed my private opinion,
which would have but little weight with the Governor, or any one else
but you and mother, there. Remember that we are neither the framers nor
the administrators of the law. And then you would make but a poor
mediator, my darling, if you were to attempt to dissuade the Governor
from his policy, by charging him with cruelty and injustice. Think no
more of this wild idea, my dear child. It can do no good, and reflects
more credit on your warm, generous heart, than on your understanding or
experience."
"Hinder me not, my father," said Virginia, earnestly, her blue eyes
filling with tears. "I can but fail, and if you would save me from the
bitterness of self-reproach hereafter, let me go. Oh, think how it would
add bitterness to the cup of grief, if, when closing the eyes of a dead
friend, we should think that we had left some remedy untried which might
have saved his life! If I fail, it will at least be some consolation,
even in despair, that I did all that I could to avert his fate; and if I
succeed--oh! how transporting the thought that the life of one I love
had been spared through my interposition. Then hinder me not, father,
mother--if you would not destroy your daughter's peace forever, oh, let
me go!"
The solemn earnestness with which the poor girl thus urged her parents
to grant her request, deeply affected them both; and the old lady,
forgetting in her love for her daughter the indelicacy and impropriety
of her plan, volunteered her very efficient advocacy of Virginia's
cause.
"Indeed, Colonel Temple," she said, "you should not oppose Virginia in
this matter. You will have enough to reproach yourself for, if by your
means you should prevent her from doing what she thinks best. And,
indeed, I like to see a young girl show so much spirit and interest in
her lover's fate. It is seldom you see such things now-a-days, though it
used to be common enough in England. Now, just put it to yourself."
The Colonel accordingly did "put it to himself," and, charmed with his
daughter's affection and heroism, concluded himself to accompany her to
Accomac, and exert his own influence with the Governor in procuring the
pardon of the unhappy Hansford.
"Now that's as it should be," said the old lady, gratified at this
renewed assurance of her ascendency over her husband. "And now,
Virginia, cheer up. All will be right, my dear, for your father has
great influence with the Governor--and, indeed, well he might have, for
he has received kindness enough at our hands in times past. I should
like to see him refuse your father a favour. And I will write a note to
Lady Frances myself, for all the world knows that she is governor and
all with her husband."
"Ladies generally are," said the Colonel, with a smile, which however
could not disguise the sincerity with which he uttered the sentiment.
"Oh, no, not at all," retorted the old lady, bridling up. "You are
always throwing up your obedience to me, and yet, after all said and
done, you have your own way pretty much, too. But you are not decent to
go anywhere. Do, pray, Colonel Temple, pay more respect to society, and
fix yourself up a little. Put on your blue coat and your black stock,
and dress your hair, and shave, and look genteel for once in your life."
Then, seeing by the patient shrug of her good old husband that she had
wounded his feelings, she patted him tenderly on the shoulder, and
added, "You know I always love to see you nice and spruce, and when you
do attend to your dress, and fix up, I know of none of them that are
equal to you. Do you, Virginia?"
Before the good Colonel had fully complied with all the toilet
requisitions of his wife, the carriage was ready to take the travellers
to Tindal's Point, where there was luckily a small sloop, just under
weigh for Accomac. And Virginia, painfully alternating between hope and
fear, but sustained by a consciousness of duty, was borne away across
the broad Chesapeake, on her pious pilgrimage, to move by her tears and
prayers the vindictive heart of the stern old Governor.