“What other opinion can I have?” said Virginia. “I find you acting with those who are guilty of an act as cowardly as it is cruel. I find you tacitly acquiescing in their measures, and aiding in guarding and conducting their unhappy captives—and I received from you a message in which you pretend to say that you can justify that which is at once inexcusable before heaven, and in the court of man's honour. Forgive me, if I am unable to separate the innocent from the guilty, and if I fail to see that your conduct is more noble in this attempt to shift the consequences of your crime upon your confederates.” “Now, by Heaven, you wrong me!” returned Hansford. “My message to you was mistaken by Captain Wilford. I never said I could justify your capture; I charged him to tell you I could justify myself. And as for my being found with those who have committed this unmanly act, as well might you be deemed a participator in their actions now, because of your presence here. I remonstrated, I protested against such a course—and when at last adopted I denounced it as unworthy of men, and far more unworthy of soldiers and freemen.” “And yet, when overwhelmed by the voices of others, you quietly acquiesce, and remain in companionship with those whose conduct you had denounced.” “What else could I do?” urged Hansford. “My feeble arm could not resist the action of two hundred-men; and it only remained for me to continue here, that I might secure the safety and kind treatment of those who were the victims of this rude violence. Alas! how little did I think that so soon you would be one of those unhappy victims, and that my heart would deplore, for its own sake, a course from which my judgment and better nature already revolted.” The scales fell from Virginia's eyes. She now saw clearly the bitter trial through which her lover had been called to pass, and recognized once more the generous, self-denying nature of Hansford. The stain upon his pure fame, to use her own figure, was but the effect of the false and deceptive lens through which she had looked, and now that she saw clearly, it was restored to its original purity and beauty. “And is this true, indeed?” she said, in a happy voice. “Believe me, Hansford, the relief which I feel at this moment more than compensates for all that I have endured. The renewed assurance of your honour atones for all. Can you forgive me for harbouring for a moment a suspicion that you were aught but the soul of honour?” “Forgive you, dearest?” returned Hansford. “Most freely—most fully! But scarcely can I forgive those who have so wronged you. Cast in a common lot with them, and struggling for a common cause, I cannot now withdraw from their association; and indeed, Virginia, I will be candid, and tell you freely that I would not if I could.”