Paul’s voice was stifled with sobs.  “It is for your sake that I go!” cried Virginia tearfully.  “You have laboured daily to support us.  By my wealth I shall seek to repay the good you have done to us all.  And would I choose any brother but thee!  Oh, Paul, Paul, you are far dearer to me than a brother!”

At these words he clasped her in his arms.  “I shall go with her.  Nothing shall shake my resolution!” he declared, in a terrible voice.

We ran towards them, and Paul turned savagely on Madame de la Tour.  “Do you act the part of a mother,” he cried, “you who separate brother and sister?  Pitiless woman!  May the ocean never give her back to your arms!” His eyes sparkled; sweat ran down his countenance.

“Oh, my friend,” cried Virginia to him in terror, “I swear by all that could ever unite two unhappy beings that if I remain here I will only live for you; and if I depart, I will one day return to be yours!”

His head drooped; a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes.

“Come to-night to my home, my friend,” I said.  “We will talk this matter over to-morrow.”

“I cannot let her go!” cried madame, in distraction.

Paul accompanied me in silence.  After a restless night he arose at daybreak, and returned to his own home.

Virginia had gone!  The vessel had sailed at daybreak, and she was on board.

By intricate paths Paul climbed to the summit of a rock cone, from which a vast area of sea was visible.  From here he perceived the vessel that bore away Virginia; and here I found him in the evening, his head leaning against the rock, his eyes fixed on the ground.

When I had persuaded him to return home, he bitterly reproached madame with having so cruelly deceived him.  She told us that a breeze had sprung up in the early morning, and that the governor himself, his officers, and the confessor has come and carried Virginia off in spite of all their tears and protests, the governor declaring that it was for their good that she was thus hurried away.

Paul wandered miserably among all the spots that had been Virginia’s favourites.  He looked at her goats, and at the birds that came fluttering to be fed by the hand of her who had gone.  He watched the dog vainly searching, following the scent up and down.  He cherished little things that had been hers—­the last nosegay she had worn, the coconut cup out of which she was accustomed to drink.

At length he began to labour in the plantation again.  He also besought me to teach him reading and writing, so that he might correspond with Virginia; and geography and history, that he might learn the situation and character of the country whither she had gone.

We heard a report that Virginia had reached France in safety; but for two years we heard no other news of her.

IV.—­Virginia’s Return

When at length a letter arrived from Virginia it appeared that she had written several times before, but as she had received no replies, she feared that her great-aunt had intercepted her former letters.