"At this period, a ship, which arrived from France, brought Madame de la
Tour a letter from her aunt. Alarmed by the terrors of approaching death,
which could alone penetrate a heart so insensible, recovering from a
dangerous disorder, which had left her in a state of weakness, rendered
incurable by age, she desired that her niece would return to France; or, if
her health forbade her to undertake so long a voyage, she conjured her to
send Virginia, on whom she would bestow a good education, procure for her a
splendid marriage, and leave her the inheritance of her whole fortune. The
perusal of this letter spread general consternation through the family.
Domingo and Mary began to weep. Paul, motionless with surprise, appeared as
if his heart was ready to burst with indignation; while Virginia, fixing
her eyes upon her mother, had not power to utter a word.

"'And can you now leave us?' cried Margaret to Madame de la Tour. 'No, my
dear friend, no, my beloved children,' replied Madame de la Tour; 'I will
not leave you. I have lived with you, and with you I will die. I have known
no happiness but in your affection. If my health be deranged, my past
misfortunes are the cause. My heart, deeply wounded by the cruelty of a
relation, and the loss of my husband, has found more consolation and
felicity with you beneath these humble huts, than all the wealth of my
family could now give me in my own country.'

"At this soothing language every eye overflowed with tears of delight. Paul
pressed Madame de la Tour in his arms, exclaiming, 'Neither will I leave
you! I will not go to the Indies. We will all labour for you, my dear
mother; and you shall never feel any wants with us.' But of the whole
society, the person who displayed the least transport, and who probably
felt the most, was Virginia; and, during the remainder of the day, that
gentle gaiety which flowed from her heart, and proved that her peace was