“And what you ought--I mean, what it is natural you should feel; and what he will himself, I hope, indeed I dare say, some time or other wish, and be glad that you should feel.” “Some time or other! Does not he wish it now?” “I--he--my dear, what a question is that? And how shall I answer it? We must judge of what he feels by what he expresses: when he expresses love for you, it will then be the time to show yours for him.” “He has always expressed love for me, I think,” said Virginia--“always, till lately,” continued she; “but lately he has been away so much, and when he comes home, he does not look so well pleased; so that I was afraid he was angry with me, and that he thought me ungrateful.” “Oh, my love, do not torment yourself with these vain fears! And yet I know that you cannot help it.” “Since you are so kind, so very kind to me,” said Virginia, “I will tell you all my fears and doubts. But it is late--there! the clock struck one. I will not keep you up.” “I am not at all sleepy,” said the indulgent Mrs. Ormond. “Nor I,” said Virginia, “Now, then,” said Mrs. Ormond, “for these doubts and fears.” “I was afraid that, perhaps, Mr. Hervey would be angry if he knew that I thought of any thing in the world but him.” “Of what else do you think?--Of nothing else from morning till night, that I can see.” “Ah, then you do not see into my mind. In the daytime often think of those heroes, those charming heroes, that I read of in the books you have given me.” “To be sure you do.” “And is not that wrong? Would not Mr. Hervey be displeased if he knew it?” “Why should he?” “Because they are not quite like him. I love some of them better than I do him, and he might think that _ungrateful_.” How naturally love inspires the idea of jealousy, thought Mrs. Ormond. “My dear,” said she, “you carry your ideas of delicacy and gratitude to an extreme; but it is very natural you should: however, you need not be afraid; Mr. Hervey cannot be jealous of those charming heroes, that never existed, though they are not quite like him.” “I am very glad that he would not think me ungrateful--but if he knew that I dream of them sometimes?” “He would think you dreamed, as all people do, of what they think of in the daytime.” “And he would not be angry? I am very glad of it. But I once saw a picture--” “I know you did--well,” said Mrs. Ormond, “and your grandmother was frightened because it was the picture of a man--hey? If she was not your grandmother, I should say that she was a simpleton. I assure you, Mr. Hervey is not like her, if that is what you mean to ask. He would not be angry at your having seen fifty pictures.” “I am glad of it--but I see it very often in my dreams.” “Well, if you had seen more pictures, you would not see this so often. It was the first you ever saw, and very naturally you remember it, Mr. Hervey would not be angry at that,” said Mrs. Ormond, laughing. “But sometimes, in my dreams, it speaks to me.”