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diff --git a/16005-h/16005-h.htm b/16005-h/16005-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b7e0ba --- /dev/null +++ b/16005-h/16005-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7439 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Jane Sinclair;, by William Carleton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jane Sinclair; Or, The Fawn Of Springvale +by William Carleton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jane Sinclair; Or, The Fawn Of Springvale + The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16005] +Last Updated: September 6, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANE SINCLAIR *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + JANE SINCLAIR; + </h1> + <h3> + OR, THE FAWN OF SPRINGVALE. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Carleton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="plate044 (165K)" src="images/plate044.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="tilepage2 (53K)" src="images/tilepage2.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> PART III. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + List of Illustrations + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> Page 5— Having Gained the Bank, he + Approached Them </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Page 44— Spot Which Would Have Been + Fatal to You </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Page 52— How is This?—how Is + This?—he Is Not Here! </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I. + </h2> + <p> + If there be one object in life that stirs the current of human feeling + more sadly than another, it is a young and lovely woman, whose intellect + has been blighted by the treachery of him on whose heart, as on a shrine, + she offered up the incense of her first affection. Such a being not only + draws around her our tenderest and most delicate sympathies, but fills us + with that mournful impression of early desolation, resembling so much the + spirit of melancholy romance that arises from one of those sad and gloomy + breezes which sweep unexpectedly over the sleeping surface of a summer + lake, or moans with a tone of wail and sorrow through the green foliage of + the wood under whose cooling shade we sink into our noon-day dream. + Madness is at all times a thing of fearful mystery, but when it puts + itself forth in a female gifted with youth and beauty, the pathos it + causes becomes too refined for the grossness of ordinary sorrow—almost + transcends our notion of the real, and assumes that wild interest which + invests it with the dim and visionary light of the ideal. Such a malady + constitutes the very romance of affliction, and gives to the fair sufferer + rather the appearance of an angel fallen without guilt, than that of a + being moulded for mortal purposes. Who ever could look upon such a + beautiful ruin without feeling the heart sink, and the mind overshadowed + with a solemn darkness, as if conscious of witnessing the still and awful + gloom of that disastrous eclipse of reason, which, alas! is so often + doomed never to pass away. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to account for the mingled reverence, and terror, and pity + with which we look upon the insane, and it is equally strange that in this + case we approach the temple of the mind with deeper homage, when we know + that the divinity has passed out of it. It must be from a conviction of + this that uncivilized nations venerate deranged persons as inspired, and + in some instance go so far, I believe, as even to pay them divine worship. + </p> + <p> + The principle, however, is in our nature: that for which our sympathy is + deep and unbroken never fails to secure our compassion and respect, and + ultimately to excite a still higher class of our moral feelings. + </p> + <p> + These preliminary observations were suggested to me by the fate of the + beautiful but unfortunate girl, the melancholy, events of whose life I am + about to communicate. I feel, indeed, that in relating them, I undertake a + task that would require a pen of unexampled power and delicacy. But it is + probable that if I remained silent upon a history at once so true, and so + full of sorrow; no other person equally intimate with its incidents will + ever give them to the world. I cannot presume to detail unhappy Jane’s, + calamity with the pathos due to a woe so singularly deep and delicate, or + to describe that faithful attachment which gave her once laughing and ruby + lips the white smile of a maniac’s misery. This I cannot do; for who, + alas, could ever hope to invest a dispensation so dark as her’s with that + rich tone of poetic beauty which threw its wild graces about her madness? + For my part, I consider the subject not only as difficult, but sacred, and + approach it on both accounts with devotion, and fear, and trembling. I + need scarcely inform the reader that the names and localities are, for + obvious reasons, fictitious, but I may be permitted to add that the + incidents are substantially correct and authentic. + </p> + <p> + Jane Sinclair was the third and youngest daughter of a dissenting + clergyman, in one of the most interesting counties in the north of + Ireland. Her father was remarkable for that cheerful simplicity of + character which is so frequently joined to a high order of intellect and + an affectionate warmth of heart. To a well-tempered zeal in the cause of + faith and morals, he added a practical habit of charity, both in word and + deed, such as endeared him to all classes, but especially to those whose + humble condition in life gave them the strongest claim upon his virtues, + both as a man and a pastor. Difficult, indeed, would it be to find a + minister of the gospel, whose practice and precept corresponded with such + beautiful fitness, nor one who, in the midst of his own domestic circle, + threw such calm lustre around him as a husband and a father. A temper + grave but sweet, wit playful and innocent, and tenderness that kept his + spirit benignant to error without any compromise of duty, were the links + which bound all hearts to him. Seldom have I known a Christian clergyman + who exhibited in his own life so much of the unaffected character of + apostolic holiness, nor one of whom it might be said with so much truth, + that “he walked in all the commandments of the Lord blameless.” + </p> + <p> + His family, which consisted of his wife, one son, and three daughters, + had, as might be expected, imbibed a deep sense of that religion, the + serene beauty of which shone so steadily along their father’s path of + life. Mrs. Sinclair had been well educated, and in her husband’s + conversation and society found further opportunity of improving, not only + her intellect, but her heart. Though respectably descended, she could not + claim relationship with what may be emphatically termed the gentry of the + country; but she could with that class so prevalent in the north of + Ireland, which ranks in birth only one grade beneath them. I say in birth;—for + in all the decencies of life, in the unostentatious bounties of + benevolence, in moral purity, domestic harmony, and a conscientious + observance of religion, both in the comeliness of its forms, and the + cheerful freedom of its spirit, this class ranks immeasurably above every + other which Irish society presents. They who compose it are not + sufficiently wealthy to relax those pursuits of honorable industry which + constitute them, as a people, the ornament of our nation; nor does their + good-sense and decent pride permit them to follow the dictates of a mean + ambition, by struggling to reach that false elevation, which is as much + beneath them in all the virtues that grace life, as it is above them in + the dazzling dissipation which renders the violation or neglect of its + best duties a matter of fashionable etiquette, or the shameful privilege + of high birth. To this respectable and independent class did the immediate + relations of Mrs. Sinclair belong; and, as might be expected, she failed + not to bring all its virtues to her husband’s heart and household—there + to soothe him by their influence, to draw fresh energy from their mutual + intercourse, and to shape the habits of their family into that perception + of self-respect and decent propriety, which in domestic duty, dress, and + general conduct, uniformly results from a fine sense of moral feeling, + blended with high religious principle. This, indeed, is the class whose + example has diffused that spirit of keen intelligence and enterprise + throughout the north which makes the name of an Ulster manufacturer or + merchant a synonym for integrity and honor. From it is derived the + creditable love of independence which operates upon the manners of the + people and the physical soil of the country so obviously, that the natural + appearance of the one may be considered as an appropriate exponent of the + moral condition of the other. Aided by the genius of a practical and + impressive creed, whose simple grandeur gives elevation and dignity to its + followers;—this class it is which, by affording employment, counsel, + and example to many of the lower classes, brings peace and comfort to + those who inhabit the white cottages and warm farmsteads of the north, and + lights up its cultivated landscapes, its broad champaigns, and peaceful + vales, into an aspect so smiling, that even the very soil seems to + proclaim and partake of the happiness of its inhabitants. Indeed, few + spots in the north could afford the spectator a better opportunity of + verifying our observations as to the mild beauty of the country, than the + residence of the amiable clergyman whose unhappy child’s fate has + furnished us with the affecting circumstances we are about to lay before + the reader. + </p> + <p> + Springvale House, Mr. Sinclair’s residence, was situated on an eminence + that commanded a full view of the sloping valley from which it had its + name. Along this vale, winding towards the house in a northern direction, + ran a beautiful tributary stream, accompanied for nearly two miles in its + progress by a small but well conducted road, which indeed had rather the + character of a green lane than a public way, being but very little of a + thoroughfare. Nothing could surpass this delightful vale in the soft and + serene character of its scenery. Its sides, partially wooded, and + cultivated with surpassing taste, were not so precipitous as to render + habitation in its bosom inconvenient. They sloped up gradually and + gracefully on each side, presenting to the eye a number of snow-white + residences, each standing upon the brow of some white table or undulation, + and surrounded by grounds sufficiently spacious to allow of green lawns, + ornamented plantations, and gardens, together with a due proportion of + land for cultivation and pasture. From Mr. Sinclair’s house the silver + bends of this fine stream gave exquisite peeps to the spectator as they + wound out of the wood which here and there clothed its banks, occasionally + dipping into the water. On the loft, attached to the glebe-house of the + Protestant pastor of the parish, the eye rested upon a pond as smooth as a + mirror, except where an occasional swan, as it floated onwards without any + apparent effort, left here and there a slight quivering ripple behind it. + Farther down, springing from between two clumps of trees, might be seen + the span of a light and elegant arch, from under which the river gently + wound away to the right; and beyond this, on the left, about a hundred + yards from the bank, rose up the slender spire of the parish church, out + of the bosom of the old beeches that overshadowed it, and threw a solemn + gloom upon the peaceful graveyard at its side. About two hundred yards + again to the right, in a little green shelving dell beneath the house, + stood Mr. Sinclair’s modest white meeting-house, with a large ash tree + hanging over each gable, and a row of poplars behind it. The valley at the + opposite extremity opened upon a landscape bright and picturesque, dotted + with those white residences which give that peculiar character of warmth + and comfort for which the northern landscapes are so remarkable. Indeed + the eye could scarcely rest upon a richer expanse of country than lay + stretched out before it, nor can we omit to notice the singularly unique + and beautiful effect produced by the numerous bleach-greens that shone at + various degrees of distance, and contrasted so sweetly with the surface of + a land deeply and delightfully verdant. + </p> + <p> + In the far distance rose the sharp outlines of a lofty mountain, whose + green and sloping base melted into the “sun-silvered” expanse of the sea, + on the smooth bosom of which the eye could snatch brilliant glimpses of + the snow-white sails that sparkled at a distance as they fell under the + beams of the noonday sun. The landscape was indeed beautiful in itself, + but still rendered more so by the delicate aerial tints which lay on every + object, and touched the whole into a mellower and more exquisite + expression. + </p> + <p> + Such was the happy valley in which this peaceful family resided; each and + all enjoying that tranquility which sheds its calm contentment over the + unassuming spirits of those who are ignorant of the crimes that flow from + the selfishness and ambition of busy life. To them, the fresh breezes of + morning, as they rustled through the living foliage, and stirred the + modest flowers of their pleasant path, were fraught with an enjoyment + which bound their hearts to every object around them, because to each of + them these objects were the sources of habitual gratification. On them the + dewy stillness of evening descended with tender serenity, as the valley + shone in the radiance of the sinking sun; and by them was held that sweet + and rapturous communion with nature, which, as it springs earliest in the + affections so does it linger about the heart when all the other loves and + enmities of life are forgotten. Who is there, indeed, whose spirit does + not tremble with tenderness, on looking back upon the scenes of his early + life? And, alas! alas! how few are there of those that are long conversant + with the world, who can take such a retrospect without feeling their + hearts weighed down by sorrow, and the force of associations too mournful + to be uttered in words. The bitter consciousness that we can be youthful + no more, and that the golden hours of our innocence have passed away for + ever, throws a melancholy darkness over the soul, and sends it back again + to retrace, in the imaginary light of our early time, the scenes where + that innocence had been our playmate. Let no man deny that groves, and + meadows, and green fields, and winding streams, and all the other charms + of rural imagery, unconsciously but surely give to the human heart a deep + perception of that graceful creed which is beautifully termed the religion + of nature. They give purity and strength to feeling, and through the + imagination, which owes so much of its power to their impressions, they + raise our sentiments until we feel them kindled into union with the lustre + of a holier light than even that which leads our steps to God through the + beauty of his own works. For this reason it is, that all imaginative + affections are much stronger in the country than in the town. Love in the + one place is not only freer from the coarseness of passion, but + incomparably more seductive to the heart, and more voluptuous in its + conception of the ideal beauty with which it invests the object of its + attachment. Nor is this surprising. In the country its various + associations are essentially impressive and poetical. Moonlight—evening—the + still glen—the river side—the flowery hawthorn—the bower—the + crystal well—not forgetting the melody of the woodland songster—are + all calculated, to make the heart and fancy surrender themselves to the + blandishments of a passion that is surrounded by objects so sweetly linked + to their earliest sympathies. But this is not all. In rural life, neither + the heart nor the eye is distracted by the claims of rival beauty, when + challenging, in the various graces of many, that admiration which might be + bestowed on one alone, did not each successive impression efface that + which went before it. In the country, therefore, in spring meadows, among + summer groves, and beneath autumnal skies, most certainly does the passion + of love sink deepest into the human heart, and pass into the greatest + extremes of happiness or pain. Here is where it may be seen, cheek to + cheek, now in all the shivering ecstacies of intense rapture, or again + moping carelessly along, with pale brow and flashing eye, sometimes + writhing in the agony of undying attachment, or chanting its mad lay of + hope and love in a spirit of fearful happiness more affecting than either + misery or despair. + </p> + <p> + Everything was beautiful in the history of unhappy Jane Sinclair’s + melancholy fate. The evening of the incident to which the fair girl’s + misery might eventually be traced was one of the most calm and balmy that + could be witnessed even during the leafy month of June. With the exception + of Mrs. Sinclair, the whole family had gone out to saunter leisurely by + the river side; the father between his two eldest daughters, and Jane, + then sixteen, sometimes chatting to her brother William, and sometimes + fondling a white dove, which she had petted and trained with such success + that it was then amenable to almost every light injunction she laid upon + it. It sat upon her shoulder, which, indeed, was its usual seat, would + peck her cheek, cower as if with a sense of happiness in her bosom, and + put its bill to her lips, from which it was usually fed, either to demand + some sweet reward for its obedience, or to express its attachment by a + profusion of innocent caresses. The evening, as we said, was fine; not a + cloud could be seen, except a pile of feathery flakes that hung far up at + the western gate of heaven; the stillness was profound; no breathing even + of the gentlest zephyr, could be felt; the river beside them, which was + here pretty deep, seemed motionless; not a leaf of the trees stirred; the + very aspens were still as if they had been marble; and the whole air was + warm and fragrant. Although the sun wanted an hour of setting, yet from + the bottom of the vale they could perceive the broad shafts of light which + shot from his mild disk through the snowy clouds we have mentioned, like + bars of lambent radiance, almost palpable to the touch. Yet, although this + delightful silence was so profound, the heart could perceive, beneath its + stillest depths, that voiceless harmony of progressing life, which, like + the music of a dream, can reach the soul independently of the senses, and + pour upon it a sublime sense of natural inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Something like this appears to have been felt by the group we have alluded + to. Mr. Sinclair, after standing for a moment on the bank of the river, + and raising his eyes to the solemn splendor of the declining sun, looked + earnestly around him, and then out upon the glowing landscape that + stretched beyond the valley, after which, with a spirit of + high-enthusiasm, he exclaimed, catching at the same time the fire and + grandeur of the poet’s noble conception— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + These are thy glorious works. Parent of good! + Almighty! thine this universal fame— + Thus wondrous fair—thyself how wondrous then— + To us invisible, or dimly seen + In these thy lowest works. +</pre> + <p> + There was something singularly impressive in the burst of piety which the + hour and the place drew from this venerable pastor, as indeed there was in + the whole group, as they listened in the attitude of deep attention to his + words. Mr. Sinclair was a tall, fine-looking old man, whose white flowing + locks fell down on each side of his neck. His figure appeared to fine + advantage, as, standing a little in front of his children, he pointed with + his raised arm to the setting sun; behind him stood his two eldest girls, + the countenance of one turned with an expression of awe and admiration + towards the west; that of the other fixed with mingled reverence and + affection on her father. William stood near Jane, and looked out + thoughtfully towards the sea, while Jane herself, light, and young, and + beautiful, stood with a hushed face, in the act of giving a pat of gentle + rebuke to the snow-white dove on her bosom. At length they resumed their + walk, and the conversation took a lighter turn. The girls left their + father’s side, and strolled in many directions through the meadow. + Sometimes they pulled wild flowers, if marked by more than ordinary + beauty, or gathered the wild mint and meadow-sweet to perfume their dairy, + or culled the flowery woodbine to shed its delicate fragrance through + their sleeping-rooms. In fact, all their habits and amusements were + pastoral, and simple, and elegant. Jane accompanied them as they strolled + about, but was principally engaged with her pet, which flew, in capricious + but graceful circles over her head, and occasionally shot off into the + air, sweeping in mimic flight behind a green knoll, or a clump of trees, + completely out of her sight; after which it would again return, and + folding its snowy pinions, drop affectionately upon her shoulder, or into + her bosom. In this manner they proceeded for some time, when the dove + again sped off across the river, the bank of which was wooded on the other + side. Jane followed the beautiful creature with a sparkling eye, and saw + it wheeling to return, when immediately the report of a gun was heard from + the trees directly beneath it, and the next moment it faltered in its + flight, sunk, and with feeble wing, struggled to reach the object of its + affection. This, however, was beyond its strength. After sinking gradually + towards the earth, it had power only to reach the middle of the river, + into the deepest part of which it fell, and there lay fluttering upon the + stream. + </p> + <p> + The report of the gun, and the fate of the pigeon, brought the personages + of our little drama with hurrying steps to the edge of the river. One + scream of surprise and distress proceeded from the lips of its fair young + mistress, after which she wrung her hands, and wept and sobbed like one in + absolute despair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear William,” she exclaimed, “can you not rescue it? Oh, save it—save + it; if it sinks I will never see it more. Oh, papa, who could be so cruel, + so heartless, as to injure a creature so beautiful and inoffensive?” + </p> + <p> + “I know not, my dear Jane; but cruel and heartless must the man be that + could perpetrate a piece of such wanton mischief. I should rather think it + is some idle boy who knows not that it is tame.” + </p> + <p> + “William, dear William, can you not save it,” she inquired again of her + brother; “if it is doomed to die, let it die with me; but, alas! now it + must sink, and I will never see it more;” and the affectionate girl + continued to weep bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my dear Jane, I never regretted my ignorance of swimming so much + as I do this moment. The truth is, I cannot swim a stroke, otherwise I + would save poor little Ariel for your sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t take it so much to heart, my dear child,” said her father; “it is + certainly a distressing incident, but, at the same time, your grief, girl, + is too excessive; it is violent, and you know it ought not to be violent + for the death of a favorite bird.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, who can look upon its struggles for life, and not feel deeply; + remember it was mine, and think of its attachment to me. It has not only + the pain of its wound to suffer, but to struggle with an element against + which it feels a natural antipathy, and with which the gentle creature is + this moment contending for its life.” + </p> + <p> + There was, indeed, something very painful and affecting in the situation + of the beautiful wounded dove. Even Mr. Sinclair himself, in witnessing + its unavailing struggles, felt as much; nor were the other two girls + unaffected any more than Jane herself. Their eyes became filled with + tears, and Maria, the eldest, said, “It is better, Jane, to return home. + Poor mute creature! the view of its sufferings is, indeed, very painful.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a tall, slender youth, apparently about eighteen, came out of + the trees on the other bank of the river but on seeing Mr. Sinclair and + his family, he paused, and appeared to feel somewhat embarrassed. It was + evident he had seen the bird wounded, and followed the course of its + flight, without suspecting that it was tame, or that there was any person + near to claim it. The distress of the females, however, especially of its + mistress, immediately satisfied him that it was theirs, and he was about + to withdraw into the wood again, when the situation of poor Ariel caught + his eye. He instantly took off his hat, flung it across the river, and + plunging in swam towards the dove, which was now nearly exhausted. A few + strokes brought him to the spot, on reaching which, he caught the bird in + one hand, held it above the water, and, with the other, swam down towards + a slope in the bank a few yards below the spot where the party stood. + Having gained the bank, he approached them, but was met half way by Jane, + whose eyes, now sparkling through her tears, spoke her gratitude in + language much more eloquent than any her tongue could utter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/plate005.jpg" + alt="Page 5-- Having Gained the Bank, he Approached Them " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The youth first examined the bird, with a view to ascertain where it had + been wounded, and immediately placed it with much gentleness in the eager + hands of its mistress. + </p> + <p> + “It will not die, I should think, in consequence of the wound,” he + observed, “which, though pretty severe, has left the wing unbroken. The + body, at all events, is safe. With care it may recover.” + </p> + <p> + William then handed him his hat and Mr. Sinclair having thanked him for an + act of such humanity, insisted that he should go home with them, in order + to procure a change of apparel. At first he declined this offer, but, + after a little persuasion, he yielded with something of shyness and + hesitation: accordingly, without loss of time, they all reached the house + together. + </p> + <p> + Having, with some difficulty, been prevailed on to take a glass of + cordial, he immediately withdrew to William’s apartment, for the purpose + of changing his dress. William, however, now observed that he got pale, + and that in a few minutes afterwards his teeth began to chatter, whilst he + shivered excessively. + </p> + <p> + “You had better lose no time in putting these dry clothes on,” said he; “I + am rather inclined to think bathing does not agree with you, that is, if I + am to judge by your present paleness and trembling.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the youth, “it is a pleasure which, for the last two years, I + have been forbidden. I feel very chilly, indeed, and you will excuse me + for declining the use of your clothes. I must return home forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + Young Sinclair, however, would not hear of this. After considerable pains + he prevailed on him to change his dress, but no argument could induce him + to stop a moment longer than until this was effected. + </p> + <p> + The family, on his entering the drawing-room to take his leave, were + surprised at a determination so sudden and unexpected, but when Mr. + Sinclair noticed his extreme paleness, he suspected that he had got ill, + and that it might not be delicate to press him. + </p> + <p> + “Before you leave us,” said the good clergyman, “will you not permit us to + know the name of the young gentleman to whom my daughter is indebted for + the rescue of her dove?” + </p> + <p> + “We are as yet but strangers in the neighborhood,” replied the youth: “my + father’s name is Osborne. We have not been more than three days in Mr. + Williams’s residence, which, together with the whole of the property + annexed to it, my father has purchased.” + </p> + <p> + “I am aware, I am aware: then you will be a permanent neighbor of ours,” + said Mr. Sinclair; “and believe me, my dear boy, we shall always be happy + to see you at Springvale; nor shall we soon forget the generous act which + first brought us acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst this short dialogue lasted, two or three shy sidelong glances + passed between him and Jane. So extremely modest was the young man that, + from an apprehension lest these glances might have been noticed, his pale + face became lit up with a faint blush, in which state of confusion he took + his leave. + </p> + <p> + Conversation was not resumed among the Sinclairs for some minutes after + his departure, each, in fact, having been engaged in reflecting upon the + surpassing beauty of his face, and the uncommon symmetry of his slender + but elegant person. Their impression, indeed, was rather that of wonder + than of mere admiration. The tall youth who had just left them seemed, in + fact, an incarnation of the beautiful itself—a visionary creation, + in which was embodied the ideal spirit of youth, intellect, and grace. His + face shone with that rosy light of life’s prime which only glows on the + human countenance during the brief period that intervenes between the + years of the thoughtless boy and those of the confirmed man: and whilst + his white brow beamed with intellect, it was easy to perceive that the + fire of deep feeling and high-wrought enthusiasm broke out in timid + flashes from his dark eye. His modesty, too, by tempering the full lustre + of his beauty, gave to it a character of that graceful diffidence, which + above all others makes the deepest impression upon a female heart. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do think,” said William Sinclair, “that young Osborne is + decidedly the finest boy I ever saw—the most perfect in beauty and + figure—and yet we have not seen him to advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, although I regretted to see him so, that he looked better after + he got pale,” said Maria; “his features, though colorless, were cut like + marble.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope his health may not be injured by what has occurred,” observed the + second; “he appeared ill.” + </p> + <p> + “That, Agnes, is more to the point,” said Mr. Sinclair; “I fear the boy is + by no means well; and I am apprehensive, from the deep carnation of his + cheek, and his subsequent paleness, that he carries within him the seeds + of early dissolution. He is too delicate, almost too etherial for earth.” + </p> + <p> + “If he becomes an angel,” said William, smiling, “with a very slight + change, he will put some of them out of countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “William,” said the father, “never, while you live attempt to be witty at + the expense of what is sacred or solemn; such jests harden the heart of + him who utters them, and sink his character, not only as a Christian, but + as a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, father—-I was wrong—but I spoke + heedlessly.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did, Billy; but in future avoid it. Well, Jane, how is your + bird?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is better, papa; but one can form no opinion so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, show it to your mamma—she is the best doctor among us—follow + her advice, and no doubt she will add its cure to the other triumphs of + her skill.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane is fretting too much about it,” observed Agnes; “why, Jane, you are + just now as pale as young Osborne himself.” + </p> + <p> + This observation turned the eyes of the family upon her; but scarcely had + her sister uttered the words when the young creature’s countenance became + the color of crimson, so deeply, and with such evident confusion did she + blush. Indeed she felt conscious of this, for she rose, with the wounded + dove lying gently between her hands and bosom, and passed, without + speaking, out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think, papa,” observed Miss Sinclair, “that there is a striking + resemblance between young Osborne and Jane? I could not help remarking + it.” + </p> + <p> + “There decidedly is, Maria, now that you mentioned it,” said William. + </p> + <p> + The father paused a little, as if to consider the matter, and then added + with a smile— + </p> + <p> + “It is very singular, Mary; but indeed I think there is—both in the + style of their features and their figure.” + </p> + <p> + “Osborne is too handsome for a man,” observed Agnes; “yet, after all, one + can hardly say so, his face, though fine, is not feminine.” + </p> + <p> + “Beauty, my children!—alas, what is it? Often—too often, a + fearful, a fatal gift. It is born with us, and not of our own merit; yet + we are vain enough to be proud of it. It is at best a flower that soon + fades—a light that soon passes away. Oh! what is it when contrasted + with those high principles whose beauty is immortal, which brighten by + age, and know neither change nor decay. There is Jane—my poor child—she + is indeed very beautiful and graceful, yet I often fear that her beauty, + joined as it is to an over-wrought sensibility, may, before her life + closes, occasion much sorrow either to herself or others.” + </p> + <p> + “She is all affection,” said William. + </p> + <p> + “She is all love, all tenderness, all goodness; and may the grace of her + Almighty Father keep her from the wail and woe which too often accompany + the path of beauty in this life of vicissitude and trial.” + </p> + <p> + A tear of affection for his beautiful child stood in the old man’s eyes as + he raised them to heaven, and the loving hearts of his family burned with + tenderness towards this their youngest and best beloved sister. + </p> + <p> + The sun had now gone down, and, after a short pause, the old man desired + William to summon the other members of the household in to prayers. The + evening worship being concluded, the youngsters walked in the lawn before + the door until darkness began to set in, after which they retired to their + respective apartments for the night. + </p> + <p> + Sweet and light be your slumbers, O ye that are peaceful and good—sweet + be your slumbers on this night so calm and beautiful; for, alas, there is + one among you into whose I innocent bosom has stolen that destroying + spirit which will yet pale her fair cheek, and wring many a bitter tear + from the eyes that love to look upon her. Her early sorrows have commenced + this night, and for what mysterious purpose who can divine?—but, + alas, alas, her fate is sealed—the fawn of Springvale is stricken, + and even now carries in her young heart a wound that will never close. + </p> + <p> + Osborne’s father, who had succeeded to an estate of one thousand per + annum, was the eldest son of a gentleman whose habits were badly + calculated to improve the remnant of property which ancestral extravagance + had left him. + </p> + <p> + Ere many years the fragment which came into his possession dwindled into a + fraction of its former value, and he found himself With a wife and four + children—two sons and two daughters—struggling on a pittance + of two hundred a year. This, to a man possessing the feelings and + education of a gentleman, amounted to something like retributive justice + upon his prodigality. His conflict with poverty, however, (for to him it + might be termed such,) was fortunately not of long duration. A younger + brother who, finding that he must fight his own battle in life, had + embraced the profession of medicine, very seasonably died, and Osborne’s + father succeeded to a sum of twelve thousand pounds in the funds, and an + income in landed property of seven hundred per annum. He now felt himself + more independent than he had ever been, and with this advantage, that his + bitter experience of a heartless world had completely cured him of all + tendency to extravagance. And now he would have enjoyed as much happiness + as is the usual lot of man, were it not that the shadow of death fell upon + his house, and cast its cold blight upon his children. Ere three years had + elapsed he saw his eldest daughter fade out of life, and in less than two + more his eldest son was laid beside her in the same grave. Decline, the + poetry of death, in its deadly beauty came upon them, and whilst it sang + its song of life and hope to their hearts, treacherously withdrew them to + darkness and the worm. + </p> + <p> + Osborne’s feelings were those of thoughtlessness and extravagance; but he + had never been either a libertine or a profligate, although the world + forbore not, when it found him humbled in his poverty, to bring such + charges against him. In truth, he was full of kindness, and no parent ever + loved his children with deeper or more devoted affection. The death of his + noble son and beautiful girl brought down his spirit to the most mournful + depths of affliction. Still he had two left, and, as it happened, the most + beautiful, and more than equally possessed his affections. To them was + gradually transferred that melancholy love which the heart of the + sorrowing father had carried into the grave of the departed; and alas, it + appeared as if it had come back to those who lived loaded with the malady + of the dead. The health of the surviving boy became delicate, and by the + advice of his physician, who pronounced the air in which they lived + unfavorable,—Osborne, on hearing that Mr. Williams, a distant + relation, was about to dispose of his house and grounds, immediately + became the purchaser. The situation, which had a southern aspect, was dry + and healthy, the air pure and genial, and, according to the best medical + opinions, highly beneficial to persons of a consumptive habit. + </p> + <p> + For two years before this—that is since his brother’s death—the + health of young Osborne had been watched with all the tender vigilance of + affection. A regimen in diet, study and exercise, had been prescribed for + him by his physician; the regulations of which he was by no means to + transgress. + </p> + <p> + In fact his parents lived under a sleepless dread of losing him which kept + their hearts expanded with that inexpressible and burning love which none + but a parent so circumstanced can ever feel. Alas! notwithstanding the + promise of life which early years usually hold out, there was much to + justify them in this their sad and gloomy apprehension. Woeful was the + uncertainty which they felt in discriminating between the natural bloom of + youth and the beauty of that fatal malady which they dreaded. His tall + slender frame, his transparent cheek, so touching, so unearthly in the + fairness of its expression; the delicacy of his whole organization, both + mental and physical—all, all, with the terror of decline in their + hearts, spoke as much of despair as of hope, and placed the life and death + of their beloved boy in an equal poise. + </p> + <p> + But, independently of his extraordinary personal advantages, all his + dispositions were so gentle and affectionate, that it was not I in human + nature to entertain harsh feeling toward him. Although modest and + shrinking, even to diffidence, he possessed a mind full of intellect and + enthusiasm: his imagination, too, overflowed with creative power, and + sought the dreamy solitudes of noon, that it might, far from the bustle of + life, shadow forth those images of beauty which come thickly only upon + those whose hearts are most susceptible of its forms. Many a time has he + sat alone upon the brow of a rock or hill, watching the clouds of heaven, + or gazing on the setting sun, or communing with the thousand aspects of + nature in a thousand moods, his young spirit relaxed into that elysian + reverie which, beyond all other kinds of intellectual enjoyment, is the + most seductive to a youth of poetic temperament. + </p> + <p> + There were, indeed, in Osborne’s case, too many of those light and + scarcely perceptible tokens which might be traced, if not to a habit of + decline, at least to a more than ordinary delicacy of constitution. The + short cough, produced by the slightest damp, or the least breath of + ungenial air—the varying cheek, now rich as purple, and again pale + as a star of heaven—the unsteady pulse, and the nervous sense of + uneasiness without a cause—all these might be symptoms of incipient + decay, or proofs of those fine impulses which are generally associated + with quick sensibility and genius. Still they existed; at one time + oppressing the hearts of his parents with fear, and again exalting them + with pride. The boy was consequently enjoined to avoid all violent + exercise, to keep out of Currents, while heated to drink nothing cold, and + above all things never to indulge in the amusement of cold bathing. + </p> + <p> + Such were the circumstances under which Osbome first appeared to the + reader, who may now understand the extent of his alarm on feeling himself + so suddenly and seriously affected by his generosity in rescuing the + wounded dove. His mere illness on this occasion was a matter of much less + anxiety to himself than the alarm which he knew it would occasion his + parents and sister. On his reaching home he mentioned the incident which + occurred, admitted that he had been rather warm on going into the water, + and immediately went to bed. Medical aid was forthwith procured, and + although the physician assured them that there appeared nothing serious in + his immediate state, yet was his father’s house a house of wail and + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + The next day the Sinclairs, having heard in reply to their inquiries + through the servant who had been sent home with his apparel, that he was + ill, the worthy clergyman lost no time in paying his parents a visit on + the occasion. In this he expressed his regret, and that also of his whole + family, that any circumstance relating to them should have been the means, + even accidentally, of affecting the young gentleman’s health. It was not, + however, until he dwelt upon the occurrence in terms of approbation, and + placed the boy’s conduct in a generous light, that he was enabled to + appreciate the depth and tenderness of their affection for him. The + mother’s tears flowed in silence on hearing this fresh proof of his + amiable spirit, and the father, with a foreboding heart, related to Mr. + Sinclair the substance of that which we have detailed to the reader. + </p> + <p> + Such was the incident which brought these two families acquainted, and + ultimately ripened their intimacy into friendship. + </p> + <p> + Much sympathy was felt for young Osborne by the other members of Mr. + Sinclair’s household, especially as his modest and unobtrusive deportment, + joined to his extraordinary beauty, had made so singularly favorable an + impression upon them. Is or was the history of that insidious malady, + which had already been so fatal to his sister and brother, calculated to + lessen the interest which his first appearance had excited. There was one + young heart among them which sank, as if the Weight of death had come over + it, on hearing this melancholy account of him whose image was now for ever + the star of her fate, whether for happiness or sorrow. From the moment + their eyes had met in those few shrinking but flashing glances by which + the spirit of love conveys its own secret, she felt the first painful + transports of the new affection, and retired to solitude with the arrow + that struck her so deeply yet quivering in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + The case of our fair girl differed widely from that of many young persons, + in whose heart the passion of love lurks unknown for a time, throwing its + roseate shadows of delight and melancholy over their peace, whilst they + themselves feel unable in the beginning to develop those strange + sensations which take away from their pillows the unbroken slumber of + early life. + </p> + <p> + Jane from the moment her eyes rested on Osborne felt and was conscious of + feeling the influence of a youth so transcendently fascinating. Her love + broke not forth gradually like the trembling light that brightens into the + purple flush of morning; neither was it fated to sink calm and untroubled + like the crimson tints that die only when the veil of night, like the + darkness of death, wraps them in its shadow. Alas no, it sprung from her + heart in all the noontide strength of maturity—a full-grown passion, + incapable of self-restraint, and conscious only of the wild and novel + delight arising from its own indulgence. Night and day that graceful form + hovered before her, encircled in the halo of her young imagination, with a + lustre that sparkled beyond the light of human beauty. We know that the + eye when it looks steadily upon a cloudless sun, is incapable for some + time afterwards of seeing any other object distinctly; and that in + whatever direction it turns that bright image floats incessantly before it—nor + will be removed even although the eye itself is closed against its + radiance. So was it with Jane. Asleep or awake, in society or in solitude, + the vision with which her soul held communion never for a moment withdrew + from before her, until at length her very heart became sick, and her fancy + entranced, by the excess of her youthful and unrestrained attachment. She + could not despair, she could scarcely doubt; for on thinking of the + blushing glances so rapidly stolen at herself, and of the dark brilliant + eye from whence they came, she knew that the soul of him she loved spoke + to her in a language that was mutually understood. These impressions, it + is true, were felt in her moments of ecstacy, but then came, + notwithstanding this confidence, other moments when maidenly timidity took + the crown of rejoicing off her head, and darkened her youthful brow with + that uncertainty, which, while it depresses hope, renders the object that + is loved a thousand times dearer to the heart. + </p> + <p> + To others, at the present stage of her affection, she appeared more silent + than usual, and evidently fond of solitude, a trait which they had not + observed in her before. But these were slight symptoms of what she felt; + for alas, the day was soon to come that was to overshadow their hearts + forever—never, never more were they and she, in the light of their + own innocence, to sing like the morning stars together, or to lay their + untroubled heads in the slumbers of the happy. + </p> + <p> + More than a month had now elapsed since the first appearance of Osborne as + one of the <i>dramatis personae</i> of our narrative. A slight fever, + attended with less effect upon the lungs than his parents anticipated, had + passed off, and he was once more able to go abroad and take exercise in + the open air. The two families were now in the habit of visiting each + other almost daily; and what tended more and more to draw closer the bonds + of good feeling between them, was the fact of the Osbornes being members + of the same creed, and attendants at Mr. Sinclair’s place of worship. + Jane, while Charles Osborne was yet ill, had felt a childish diminution of + her affection for her convalescent dove, whilst at the same time something + whispered to her that it possessed a stronger interest in her heart than + it had ever done before. This may seem a paradox to such of our readers as + have never been in love; but it is not at all irreconcilable to the + analogous and often conflicting states of feeling produced by that strange + and mysterious passion. The innocent girl was wont, as frequently as she + could without exciting notice, to steal away to the garden, or the fields, + or the river side, accompanied by her mute, companion, to which with + pouting caresses she would address a series of rebukes of having been the + means of occasioning the illness of him she loved. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Ariel, little do you know, sweet bird, what anxiety you have caused + your mistress—if he dies I shall never love you more? Yes, coo, and + flutter—but I do not care for you; no, that kiss won’t satisfy me + until he is recovered—then I shall be friends with you, and you + shall be my own Ariel again.” + </p> + <p> + She would then pat it petulantly; and the beautiful creature would sink + its head, and slightly expand its wings, as if conscious that there was a + change of mood in her affection. + </p> + <p> + But again the innocent remorse of her girlish heart would flow forth in + terms of tenderness and endearment; again would I she pat and cherish it; + and with the artless I caprice of childhood exclaim— + </p> + <p> + “No, my own Ariel, the fault was not yours; come, I shall love you—and + I will not be angry again; even if you were not good I would love you for + his sake. You are now dearer to me a thousand times than you ever were; + but alas! Ariel, I am sick, I am sick, and no longer happy. Where is my + lightness of heart, my sweet bird, and where, oh where is the joy I used + to feel?” + </p> + <p> + Even this admission, which in the midst of solitude could reach no other + human ear, would startle the bashful creature into alarm; and whilst her + cheek became alternately pale and crimson at such an avowal thus uttered + aloud, she would wipe away the tears that arose to her eyes whenever the + depths of her affection were stirred by those pensive broodings which gave + its sweetest charm to youthful love. + </p> + <p> + In thus seeking solitude, it is not to be imagined that our young heroine + was drawn thither by a love of contemplating nature in those fresher + aspects which present themselves in the stillness of her remote recesses. + She sought not for their own sakes the shades of the grove, the murmuring + cascade, nor the voice of the hidden rivulet that occasionally stole out + from its leafy cover, and ran in music towards the ampler stream of the + valley. + </p> + <p> + No, no; over her heart and eye the spirit of their beauty passed idly and + unfelt. All of external life that she had been wont to love and admire + gave her pleasure no more. The natural arbors of woodbine, the fairy + dells, and the wild flowers that peeped in unknown sweetness about the + hedges, the fairy fingers, the blue-bells, the cow-slips, with many others + of her fragrant and graceful favorites, all, all, charmed her, alas, no + more. Nor at home, where every voice was tenderness, and every word + affection, did there exist in her stricken heart that buoyant sense of + enjoyment which had made her youth like the music of a brook, where every + thing that broke the smoothness of its current only turned it into melody. + The morning and evening prayer—the hymn of her sister voices—their + simple spirit of tranquil devotion—and the touching solemnity of her + father, worshipping God upon the altar of his own heart—all, all + this, alas—alas, charmed her no more. Oh, no—no; many motives + conspired to send her into solitude, that she might in the sanctity of + unreproving nature cherish her affection for the youth whose image was + ever, ever before her. At home such was the timid delicacy of her love, + that she felt as if its indulgence even in the stillest depths of her own + heart, was disturbed by the conversation of her kindred, and the familiar + habits of domestic life. Her father’s, her brother’s, and her sisters’ + voices, produced in her a feeling of latent shame, which, when she + supposed for a moment that they could guess her attachment, filled her + with anxiety and confusion. She experienced besides a sense of uneasiness + on reflecting that she practiced, for the first time in their presence, a + dissimulation so much at variance with the opinion she knew they + entertained of her habitual candor. It was, in fact, the first secret she + had ever concealed from them; and now the suppression of it in her own + bosom made her feel as if she had withdrawn that confidence which was due + to the love they bore her. This was what kept her so much in her own room, + or sent her abroad to avoid all that had a tendency to repress the + indulgence of an attachment that had left in her heart a capacity for no + other enjoyment. But in solitude she was far from every thing that could + disturb those dreams in which the tranquility of nature never failed to + entrance her. There was where the mysterious spirit that raises the soul + above the impulses of animal life, mingled with her being—and poured + upon her affection the elemental purity of that original love which in the + beginning preceded human guilt. + </p> + <p> + It is, indeed, far from the contamination of society—in the + stillness of solitude when the sentiment of love comes abroad before its + passion, that the heart can be said to realize the object of its devotion, + and to forget that its indulgence can ever be associated with error. This + is, truly, the angelic love of youth and innocence; and such was the + nature of that which the beautiful girl felt. Indeed, her clay was so + divinely tempered, that the veil which covered her pure and ethereal + spirit, almost permitted the light within to be visible, and exhibited the + workings of a soul that struggled to reach the object whose communion with + itself seemed to constitute the sole end of its existence. + </p> + <p> + The evening on which Jane and Charles Osborne met for the first time, + unaccompanied by their friends, was one of those to which the power of + neither pen nor pencil can do justice. The sun was slowly sinking among a + pile of those soft crimson clouds, behind which fancy is so apt to picture + to itself the regions of calm delight that are inhabited by the happy + spirits of the blest; the sycamore and hawthorn were yet musical with the + hum of bees, busy in securing their evening burthen for the hive. Myriads + of winged insects were sporting in the sunbeams; the melancholy plaint of + the ringdove came out sweetly from the trees, mingled with the songs of + other birds, and the still sweeter voice of some happy groups of children + at play in the distance. The light of the hour, in its subdued but golden + tone, fell with singular clearness upon all nature, giving to it that + tranquil beauty which makes every thing the eye rests upon glide with + quiet rapture into the heart. The moth butterflies were fluttering over + the meadows, and from the low stretches of softer green rose the + thickly-growing grass-stalks, laying their slender ear’s bent with the + mellow burthen of wild honey—the ambrosial feast for the lips of + innocence and childhood. It was, indeed, an evening when love would bring + forth its sweetest memories, and dream itself into those ecstacies of + tenderness that flow from the mingled sensations of sadness and delight. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to see on this earth a young + creature, whose youth and beauty, and slender grace of person gave her + more the appearance of some visionary spirit, too exquisitely ideal for + human life. Indeed, she seemed to be tinted with the hues of heaven, and + never did a mortal being exist in such fine and harmonious keeping with + the scene in which she moved. So light and sylph-like was her figure, + though tall, that the eye almost feared she would dissolve from before it, + and leave nothing to gaze at but the earth on which she trod. Yet was + there still apparent in her something that preserved, with singular power, + the delightful reality that she was of humanity, and subject to all those + softer influences that breathe their music so sweetly over the chords of + the human heart. The delicate bloom of her cheek, shaded away as it was, + until it melted into the light that sparkled from her complexion—the + snowy forehead, the flashing eye, in which sat the very soul of love—the + lips, blushing of sweets—her whole person breathing the warmth of + youth, and feeling, and so characteristic in the easiness of its motions + of that gracile flexibility that has never been known to exist separate + from the power of receiving varied and profound emotions—all this + told the spectator, too truly, that the lovely being before him was not of + another sphere, but one of the most delightful that ever appeared in this. + </p> + <p> + But hush!—here is a strain of music! Oh! what lips breathed forth + that gush of touching melody which flows in such linked sweetness from the + flute of an unseen performer? How soft, how gentle, but oh, how very + mournful are the notes! Alas! they are steeped in sorrow, and melt away in + the plaintive cadences of despair, until they mingle with silence. Surely, + surely, they come from one whose heart has been brought low by the ruined + hopes of an unrequited passion. Yes, fair girl, thou at least dost so + interpret them; but why this sympathy in one so young? Why is thy bright + eye dewy with tears for the imaginary sorrows of another? And again—but + ha!—why that flash of delight and terror?—that sudden + suffusion of red over thy face and neck—and even now, that paleness + like death! Thy heart, thy heart—why does it throb, and why do thy + knees totter? Alas! it is even so; the Endymion of thy dreams, as + beautiful as even thou thyself in thy purple dawn of womanhood,—he + from whom thou now shrinkest, yet whom thou dreadest not to meet, is + approaching, and bears in his beauty the charm that will darken thy + destiny. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of Osborne, unaccompanied, taught this young creature to + know the full extent of his influence over her. Delight, terror, and utter + confusion of thought and feeling, seized upon her the moment he became + visible. She wished herself at home, but had not power to go; she blushed, + she trembled, and, in the tumult of the moment, lost all presence of mind + and self-possession. He had come from behind a hedge, on the path-way + along which she walked, and was consequently approaching her, so that it + was evident they must meet. On seeing her he ceased to play, paused a + moment, and were it not that it might appear cold, and rather remarkable, + he, too, would have retraced his steps homewards. In truth, both felt + equally confused and equally agitated, for, although such an interview had + been, for some time previously, the dearest wish of their hearts, yet + would they both almost have felt relieved, had they had an opportunity of + then escaping it. Their first words were uttered in a low, hesitating + voice, amid pauses occasioned by the necessity of collecting their + scattered thoughts, and with countenances deeply blushing from a + consciousness of what they felt. Osborne turned back, mechanically, and + accompanied her in her walk. After this there was a silence for some time, + for neither had courage to renew the conversation. At length Osborne, in a + faltering voice addressed her: + </p> + <p> + “Your dove,” said he, “is quite recovered, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” she replied, “it is perfectly well again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is an exceedingly beautiful bird, and remarkably docile.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had little difficulty in training it,” she returned, and then + added, very timidly, “it is also very affectionate.” + </p> + <p> + The youth’s eyes sparkled, as if he were about to indulge in some + observation suggested by her reply, but, fearing to give it expression, he + paused again; in a few minutes, however, he added— + </p> + <p> + “I think there is nothing that gives one so perfect an idea of purity and + innocence as a snow-white dove, unless I except a young and beautiful + girl, such as—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at her as he spoke, and their eyes met, but in less than a + moment they were withdrawn, and cast upon the earth. + </p> + <p> + “And of meekness and holiness too,” she observed, after a little. + </p> + <p> + “True; but perhaps I ought to make another exception,” he added, alluding + to the term by which she herself was then generally known. As he spoke, + his voice expressed considerable hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Another exception,” she answered, inquiringly, “it would be difficult, I + think, to find any other emblem of innocence so appropriate as a dove.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not a Fawn still more so,” he replied, “it is so gentle and meek, and + its motions are so full of grace and timidity, and beauty. Indeed I do not + wonder, when an individual of your sex resembles it in the qualities I + have mentioned, that the name is sometimes applied to her.” + </p> + <p> + The tell-tale cheek of the girl blushed a recognition of the compliment + implied in the words, and after a short silence, she said, in a tone that + was any thing but indifferent, and with a view of changing the + conversation— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are quite recovered from your illness.” + </p> + <p> + “With the exception of a very slight cough, I am,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she observed, “that you look somewhat paler than you did.” + </p> + <p> + “That paleness does not proceed from indisposition, but from a far + different”—he paused again, and looked evidently abashed. In the + course of a minute, however, he added, “yes, I know I am pale, but not + because I am unwell, for my health is nearly, if not altogether, restored, + but because I am unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” said Jane, “to see one unhappy at your years.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know my own character and disposition well,” he replied; “my + temperament is naturally a melancholy one; the frame of my mind is like + that of my body, very delicate, and capable of being affected by a + thousand slight influences which pass over hearts of a stronger mould, + without ever being felt. Life to me, I know, will be productive of much + pain, and much enjoyment, while its tenure lasts, but that, indeed, will + not be long. My sands are measured, for I feel a presentiment, a mournful + and prophetic impression, that I am doomed to go down into an early + grave.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of passionate enthusiasm which pervaded these words, uttered as + they were in a voice wherein pathos and melody were equally blended, + appeared to be almost too much for a creature whose sympathy in all his + moods and feelings was then so deep and congenial. She felt some + difficulty in repressing her tears, and said, in a voice which no effort + could keep firm. + </p> + <p> + “You ought not to indulge in those gloomy forebodings; you should struggle + against them, otherwise they will distress your mind, and injure your + health.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do not know,” he proceeded, his eyes sparkling with that light + which is so often the beacon of death—“you do not know the fatal + fascination by which a mind, set to the sorrows of a melancholy + temperament, is charmed out of its strength. But no matter how dark may be + my dreams—there is one light for ever upon them—one image + ever, ever before me—one figure of grace and beauty—oh, how + could I deny myself the contemplation of a vision that pours into my soul + a portion of itself, and effaces: every other object but an entrancing + sense of its own presence. I cannot, I cannot—it bears me away into + a happiness that is full of sadness—where I indulge alone, without + knowing why, in my feast of tears’—happy! happy! so I think, and so + I feel; yet why is my heart sunk, and why are all my visions filled with + death and the grave?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not talk so frequently of death,” replied the beautiful girl, + “surely you need not fear it for a long while. This morbid tone of mind + will pass away when you grow into better health and strength.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not this hour calm?” said he, flashing his dark eyes full upon her, + “see how beautiful the sun sinks in the west;—alas! so I should wish + to die—as calm, and the moral lustre of my life as radiant.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you shall,” said Jane, in a voice full of that delightful spirit + of consolation which, proceeding from such lips, breathes the most + affecting power of sympathy, “so you shall, but like him, not until after + the close of a long and well-spent life.” + </p> + <p> + “That—that,” said he, “was only a passing thought. Yes, the hour is + calm, but even in such stillness, do you not observe that the aspen there + to our left, this moment quivers to the breezes which we cannot feel, and + by which not a leaf of any other tree about us is stirred—such I + know myself to be, an aspen among men, stirred into joy or sorrow, whilst + the hearts of others are at rest. Oh, how can my foretaste of life be + either bright or cheerful, for when I am capable of being moved by the + very breathings of passion, what must I not feel in the blast, and in the + storm—even now, even now!”—The boy, here overcome by the force + of his own melancholy enthusiasm, paused abruptly, and Jane, after several + attempts to speak, at last said, in a voice scarcely audible— + </p> + <p> + “Is not hope always better than despair?” + </p> + <p> + Osborne instantly fixed his eyes upon her, and saw, that although her’s + were bent upon the earth, her face had become overspread with a deep + blush. While he looked she raised them, but after a single glance, at once + quick and timid, she withdrew them again, a still deeper blush mantling on + her cheek. He now felt a sudden thrill of rapture fall upon his heart, and + rush, almost like a suffocating sensation, to his throat; his being became + for a moment raised to an ecstacy too intense for the power of description + to portray, and, were it not for the fear which ever accompanies the + disclosure of first and youthful love, the tears of exulting delight would + have streamed down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Both had reached a little fairy dell of vivid green, concealed by trees on + every side, and in the middle of which rose a large yew, around whose + trunk had been built a seat of natural turf whereon those who strolled + about the ground might rest, when heated or fatigued by exercise or the + sun. Here the girl sat down. + </p> + <p> + A change had now come over both. The gloom of the boy’s temperament was + gone, and his spirit caught its mood from that of his companion. Each at + the moment breathed the low, anxious, and tender timidity of love, in it + purest character. The souls of both vibrated to each other, and felt + depressed with that sweetest emotion which derives all its power from the + consciousness that its participation is mutual. Osborne spoke low, and his + voice trembled; the girl was silent, but her bosom panted, and her frame + shook from head to foot. At length, Osborne spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes sit here alone, and amuse myself with my flute; but of late—of + late—I can hear no music that is not melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, prefer mournful—mournful music,” replied Jane. “That was a + beautiful air you played just now.” + </p> + <p> + Osborne put the flute to his lips, and commenced playing over again the + air she had praised; but, on glancing at the fair girl, he perceived her + eyes fixed upon him with a look of such deep and devoted passion as + utterly overcame him. Her eyes, as before, were immediately withdrawn, but + there dwelt again upon her burning cheek such a consciousness of her love + as could not, for a moment, be mistaken. In fact she betrayed all the + confused symptoms of one who felt that the state of her heart had been + discovered. Osborne ceased playing; for such was his agitation that he + scarcely knew what he thought or did. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot go on,” said he in a voice which equally betrayed the state of + his heart; “I cannot play;” and at the same time he seated himself beside + her. + </p> + <p> + Jane rose as he spoke, and in a broken voice, full of an expression like + distress, said hastily: + </p> + <p> + “It is time I should go;—I am,—I am too long out.” + </p> + <p> + Osborne caught her hand, and in words that burned with the deep and + melting contagion of his passion, said simply: + </p> + <p> + “Do not go:—oh do not yet go!” + </p> + <p> + She looked full upon him, and perceived that as he spoke his face became + deadly pale, as if her words were to seal his happiness or misery. + </p> + <p> + “Oh do not leave me now,” he pleaded; “do not go, and my life may yet be + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I must,” she replied, with great difficulty; “I cannot stay; I do not + wish you to be unhappy;” and whilst saying this, the tears that ran in + silence down her cheeks proved too clearly how dear his happiness must + ever be to her. + </p> + <p> + Osborne’s arm glided round her waist, and she resumed her seat,—or + rather tottered into it. + </p> + <p> + “You are in tears,” he exclaimed. “Oh could it be true! Is it not, my + beloved girl? It is—it is—love! Oh surely, surely it must—it + must!” + </p> + <p> + She sobbed aloud once or twice; and, as he kissed her unresisting lips, + she murmured out, “It is; it is; I love you.” + </p> + <p> + Oh life! how dark and unfathomable are thy mysteries! And why is it that + thou permittest the course of true love, like this, so seldom to run + smooth, when so many who, uniting through the impulse of sordid passion, + sink into a state of obtuse indifference, over which the lights and + shadows that touch thee into thy finest perceptions of enjoyment pass in + vain. + </p> + <p> + It is a singular fact, but no less true than singular, that since the + world began there never was known any instance of an anxiety, on the part + of youthful lovers, to prolong to an immoderate extent the scene in which + the first mutual avowal of their passions takes place. The excitement is + too profound, and the waste of those delicate spirits, which are expended + in such interviews, is much too great to permit the soul to bear such an + excess of happiness long. Independently of this, there is associated with + it an ultimate enjoyment, for which the lovers immediately fly to + solitude; there, in the certainty of waking bliss, to think over and over + again of all that has occurred between them, and to luxuriate in the + conviction, that at length the heart has not another wish, but sinks into + the solitary charm which expands it with such a sense of rapturous and + exulting delight. + </p> + <p> + The interview between our lovers was, consequently, not long. The secret + of their hearts being now known, each felt anxious to retire, and to look + with a miser’s ecstacy upon the delicious hoard which the scene we have + just described had created. Jane did not reach home until the evening + devotions of the family were over, and this was the first time she had + ever, to their knowledge, been absent from them before. Borne away by the + force of what had just occurred, she was proceeding up to her own room, + after reaching home, when Mr. Sinclair, who had remarked her absence, + desired that she be called into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “It is the first neglect,” he observed, “of a necessary duty, and it would + be wrong in me to let it pass without at least pointing it out to the dear + child as an error, and knowing from her own lips why it has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Terror and alarm, like what might be supposed to arise from the detection + of secret guilt, seized upon the young creature so violently that she had + hardly strength to enter the drawing-room without support: her face became + the image of death, and her whole frame tottered and trembled visibly. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my dear, why were you absent from prayers this evening?” inquired + her father, with his usual mildness of manner. + </p> + <p> + This question, to one who had never yet been, in the slightest instance, + guilty of falsehood, was indeed a terrible one; and especially to a girl + so extremely timid as was this his best beloved daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she at last replied, “I was out walking;” but as she spoke there + was that in her voice and manner which betrayed the guilt of an insincere + reply. + </p> + <p> + “I know, my dear, you were; but although you have frequently been out + walking, yet I do not remember that you ever stayed, away from our evening + worship before. Why is this?” + </p> + <p> + Her father’s question was repeated in vain. She hung her head and returned + no answer. She tried to speak, but from her parched lips not a word could + proceed. She felt as if all the family that moment were conscious of the + occurrence between her and her lover; and if the wish could have relieved + her, she would almost have wished to die, so much did she shrink abashed + in their presence. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my daughter,” proceeded her father, more seriously, “has your + absence been occasioned by anything that you are ashamed or afraid to + mention? From me, Jane, you ought to have no secrets;—you are yet + too young to think away from your father’s heart and from your mother’s + also;—speak candidly, my child,—speak candidly,—I expect + it.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the last words, the head of their beautiful flower sank upon + her bosom, and in a moment she lay insensible upon the sofa on which she + had been sitting. + </p> + <p> + This was a shock for which neither the father nor the family were + prepared. William flew to her,—all of them crowded about her, and + scarcely had he raised that face so pale, but now so mournfully beautiful + in its insensibility, when her mother and sisters burst into tears and + wailings, for they feared at the moment that their beloved one must have + been previously seized with sudden illness, and was then either taken, or + about to be taken from their eyes for ever. By the coolness of her father, + however, they were directed how to restore her, in which, after a lapse of + not less than ten minutes, they succeeded. + </p> + <p> + When she recovered, her mother folded her in her arms, and her sisters + embraced her with tenderness and tears. Her father then gently caught her + hand in his, and said with much affection: + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my child, you are ill. Why not have told us so?” + </p> + <p> + The beautiful girl knelt before him for a moment, but again rose up, and + hiding her head in his bosom, exclaimed—weeping— + </p> + <p> + “Papa, bless me, oh, bless me, and forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do; I do,” said the old man; and as he spoke a few large tears trickled + down his cheeks, and fell upon her golden locks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II. + </h2> + <p> + It is a singular fact, but one which we know to be true, that not only the + affection of parents, but that of brothers and sisters, goes down with + greater tenderness to the youngest of the family, all other circumstances + being equal. This is so universally felt and known, that it requires no + further illustration from us. At home, Jane Sinclair was loved more + devotedly in consequence of being the most innocent and beautiful of her + father’s children; in addition to this, however, she was cherished with + that peculiar sensibility of attachment by which the human heart is always + swayed towards its youngest and its last. + </p> + <p> + On witnessing her father’s tenderness, she concealed her face in his + bosom, and wept for some time in silence, and by a gentle pressure of her + delicate arms, as they encircled his neck, intimated her sense of his + affectionate indulgence towards her; and perhaps, could it have been + understood, a tacit acknowledgment of her own unworthiness on that + occasion to receive it. + </p> + <p> + At length, she said, after an effort to suppress her tears, “Papa, I will + go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, my love; and Jane, forget not to address the Throne of God before you + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not intend to neglect it, papa. Mamma, come with me.” She then + kissed her sisters and bade good-night to William; after which she + withdrew, accompanied by her mother, whilst the eyes of those who remained + were fixed upon her with love and pride and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” said she, when they reached the apartment, “allow me to sleep + alone tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, your mind appears to be depressed, darling,” replied her mother; + “has anything disturbed you, or are you really ill?” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite well, mamma, and not at all depressed; but do allow me to + sleep in the closet bed.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, Agnes will sleep there, and you can sleep in your own as + usual; the poor girl will wonder why you leave her, Jane; she will feel so + lonely, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mamma, it would gratify me very much, at least for this night. I + never wished to sleep away from Agnes before; and I am certain she will + excuse me when she knows I prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my love, of course Jean have no objection; I only fear you are not + so well as you imagine yourself. At all events, Jane, remember your + father’s advice to pray to God; and remember this, besides, that from me + at least you ought to have no secrets. Good-night, dear, and may the Lord + take care of you!” + </p> + <p> + She then kissed her with an emotion of sorrow for which she could scarcely + account, and passed down to the room wherein the other members of the + family were assembled. + </p> + <p> + “I know not what is wrong with her,” she observed, in reply to their + enquiries. “She declares she is perfectly well, and that her mind is not + at all depressed.” + </p> + <p> + “In that I agree with her,” said William; “her eye occasionally sparkled + with something that resembled joy more than depression.” + </p> + <p> + “She begged of me to let her sleep alone to-night,” continued the mother; + “so that you, Agnes, must lie in the closet bed.” + </p> + <p> + “She must, certainly, be unwell then,” replied Agnes, “or she would hardly + leave me. Indeed I know that her spirits have not been so good of late as + usual. Formerly we used to chat ourselves asleep, but for some weeks past + she has been quite changed, and seldom spoke at all after going to bed. + Neither did she sleep so well latterly as she used to.” + </p> + <p> + “She is, indeed, a delicate flower,” observed her father, “and a very + slight blast, poor thing, will make her droop—droop perhaps into an + early grave!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak so gloomily, my dear Henry,” said her mother. “What is there + in her particular case to justify any such apprehension?” + </p> + <p> + “Her health has been always good, too,” observed Maria; “but the fact is, + we love her so affectionately that many things disturb us about her which + we would never feel if we loved her less.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said her father, “you have in a few words expressed the true state + of our feelings with respect to the dear child. We shall find her, I + trust, in good health and spirits in the morning; and please the Divine + Will, all will again be well—but what’s the matter with you, Agnes?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair had, a moment before, observed that an expression of thought, + blended with sorrow, overshadowed the face of his second daughter. The + girl, on hearing her father’s enquiry, looked mournfully upon him, whilst + the tears ran silently down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to her,” said she, “and stay with her if she lets me. Oh, papa, + why talk of an early grave for her? How could we lose her? I could not—and + I cannot bear even to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + She instantly rose and proceeded to Jane’s room, but in a few minutes + returned, saying, “I found her at prayers, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless her, God bless her! I knew she would not voluntarily neglect so + sacred a duty. As she wishes to be alone, it is better not to disturb her; + solitude and quiet will no doubt contribute to her composure, and it is + probably for this purpose that she wishes to be left to herself.” + </p> + <p> + After this the family soon retired to bed, with the exception of Mr. + Sinclair himself, who, contrary to his practice, remained for a + considerable time longer up than usual. It appeared, indeed, as if the + shadow of some coming calamity had fallen upon their hearts, or that the + affection they had entertained for her was so mysteriously deep as to + produce that prophetic sympathy which is often known to operate in a + presentiment of sorrow that never fails to be followed by disaster. It is + difficult to account for this singular succession of cause to effect, as + they act upon our emotions, except probably by supposing that it is an + unconscious development of those latent faculties which are decreed to + expand into a full growth in a future state of existence. Be this as it + may, these loving relatives experienced upon that night a mood of mind + such as they had never before known, even when the hand of death had taken + a brother and sister from among them. It was not grief but a wild kind of + dread, slight it is true, but distinct in its character, and not + dissimilar to that fear which falls upon the spirits during one of those + glooms that precede some dark and awful convulsion of nature. Her father + remained up, as we have said, longer than the rest, and in the silence + which succeeded their retirement for the night, his voice could be + occasionally heard in deep and earnest supplication. It was evident that + he had recourse to prayer; and by some of the expressions caught from time + to time, they gathered that “his dear child,” and “her peace of mind” were + the object of the foreboding father’s devotions. + </p> + <p> + Jane’s distress, at concealing the cause of her absence from prayers, + though acute at the moment of enquiry, was nevertheless more transient + than one might suppose from the alarming effects it produced. Her mind was + at the time in a state of tumult and excitement, such as she had never + till then experienced, and the novel guilt of dissimulation, by + superinducing her first impression of deliberate crime, opposed itself so + powerfully to the exulting sense of her newborn happiness, that both + produced a shock of conflicting emotions which a young mind, already so + much exhausted, could not resist. She felt, therefore, that a strange + darkness shrouded her intellect, in which all distinct traces of thought, + and all memory of the past were momentarily lost. Her frame, too, at the + best but slender and much enfeebled by the preceding interview with + Osborne, and her present embarrassment, could not bear up against this + chaotic struggle between delight and pain. It was, no doubt, impossible + for her relatives to comprehend all this, and hence their alarm. She was + too pure and artless to be suspected of concealing the truth; and they + consequently entertained not the slightest suspicion of that kind; but + still their affections were aroused, and what might have terminated in an + ordinary manner, ended in that unusual mood we have described. + </p> + <p> + With a scrupulous attention to her father’s precept, as well as from a + principle of early and sincere piety, she strove on reaching her bedroom + to compose her mind in prayer, and to beg the pardon of Heaven for her + wilful suppression of the truth. This was a task, however, to which she + was altogether unequal. In vain she uttered words expressive of her + sorrow, and gave language to sentiments of deep repentance; there was but + one idea, but one image in her mind, viz.: her beautiful boy, and the + certainty that she was the object of his love. Again and again she + attempted to pray, but still with the same success. It was to no purpose + that she resolved to banish him from her thoughts, until at least the + solemn act of her evening-worship should be concluded; for ere she had + uttered half a sentence the image would return, as if absolutely to mock + her devotions. In this manner she continued for some time, striving to + advance with a sincere heart in her address to heaven; again recommencing + with a similar purpose, and as often losing herself in those visions that + wrapped her spirit in their transports. At length she arose, and for a + moment felt a deep awe fall upon her. The idea that she could not pray, + seemed to her as a punishment annexed, by God to her crime of having + tampered with the love of truth, and disregarded her father’s injunctions + not to violate it. But this, also, soon passed away: she lay down, and at + once surrendered her heart and thought and fancy to the power of that + passion, which, like the jealous tyrant of the East, seemed on this + occasion resolved to bear no virtue near the heart in which it sat + enthroned. Such, however, was not its character, as the reader will learn + when he proceeds; true love being in our opinion rather the guardian of + the other virtues than their foe. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, when Jane awoke, the event of yesterday flashed on her + memory with a thrill of pleasure that made her start up in a recumbent + posture in the bed. Her heart bounded, her pulse beat high, and a sudden + sensation of hysterical delight rushed to her throat with a transport that + would have been painful, did she not pass out of a state of such panting + ecstacy and become dissolved in tears. She wept, but how far did she + believe the cause of her emotion to be removed from sorrow? She wept, yet + alas! alas! never did tears of such delight flow from a source that drew a + young heart onward to greater darkness and desolation. Weep on, fair girl, + in thy happiness; for the day will come when thou will not be able to find + one tear in thy misery! + </p> + <p> + Her appearance the next morning exhibited to the family no symptoms of + illness. On the contrary, she never looked better, indeed seldom so well. + Her complexion was clearer than usual, her spirit more animated, and the + dancing light of her eye plainly intimated by its sparkling that her young + heart was going on the way of its love rejoicing. Her family were + agreeably surprised at this, especially when they reflected upon their + anxiety concerning her on the preceding night. To her distress on that + occasion they made not the slightest allusion; they felt it sufficient + that the beloved of their hearts was well, and that from the evident flow + of her spirits there existed no rational ground for any apprehension + respecting her. After breakfast she sat sewing for some time with her + sisters, but it was evident that her mind was not yet sufficiently calm to + permit her as formerly to sustain a proper part in their conversation. + Ever and anon they could observe by the singular light which sparkled in + her eyes, as with a sudden rush of joy, that her mind, was engaged on some + other topic, and this at a moment when some appeal or interrogatory to + herself rendered such abstracted enjoyment more obvious. Sensible, + therefore, of her incompetency as yet to regulate her imagination so as to + escape notice, she withdrew in about an hour to her own room, there once + more to give loose to indulgence. + </p> + <p> + Our readers may perceive that the position of Jane Sinclair, in her own + family, was not very favorable to the formation of a firm character. The + regulation of a mind so imaginative, and of feelings so lively and + susceptible, required a hand of uncommon skill and delicacy. Indeed her + case was one of unusual difficulty. In the first place, her meekness and + extreme sweetness of temper rendered it almost impossible in a family + where her own qualities predominated, to find any deviation from duty + which might be seized upon without harshness as a pretext for inculcating + those precautionary principles that were calculated to strengthen the weak + points which her character may have presented. Even those weak points, if + at the time they could be so termed, were perceptible only in the exercise + of her virtues, so that it was a matter of some risk, especially in the + case of one so young, to reprove an excess on the right side, lest in + doing so you checked the influence of the virtue that accompanied it. Such + errors, if they can be called so, when occurring in the conduct of those + whom we love, are likely to call forth any thing but censure. It is + naturally supposed, and in general with too much truth, that time and + experience will remove the excess, and leave the virtue not more than + equal to the demands of life upon it. Her mother, however, was, as the + reader may have found, by no means ignorant of those traits a the + constitution of her mind from which danger or happiness might ultimately + be apprehended; neither did he look on them With indifference. In truth, + they troubled him much, and on more than one occasion he scrupled not + fully to express his fears of, their result. It was he, the reader + perceives, who on the evening of her first interview with Osborne, gave so + gloomy a tone to the feelings of the family, and impressed them at all + events more deeply than they otherwise would have felt with a vague + presentiment of some unknown evil that was to befall her. She was, + however, what is termed, the pet of the family, the centre to which all + their affections turned; and as she herself felt conscious of this, there + is little doubt that the extreme indulgence, and almost blameable + tenderness which they exercised towards her, did by imperceptible degrees + disqualify her from undergoing with firmness those conflicts of the heart, + to which a susceptibility of the finer emotions rendered her peculiarly + liable. Indeed among the various errors prevalent in domestic life, there + is scarcely one that has occasioned more melancholy consequences than that + of carrying indulgence towards a favorite child too far; and creating, + under the slightest instances of self-denial, a sensitiveness or + impatience, arising from a previous habit of being gratified in all the + whims and caprices, of childhood or youth. The fate of favorite children + in life is almost proverbially unhappy, and we doubt not that if the + various lunatic receptacles were examined, the malady, in a majority of + cases, might be traced to an excess of indulgence and want of proper + discipline in early life. Had Mr. Sinclair insisted on knowing from his + daughter’s lips the cause of her absence from prayers, and given a high + moral proof of the affection he bore her, it is probable that the + consciousness on her part of his being cognizant of her passion, would + have kept it so far within bounds as to submit to the control of reason + instead of ultimately subverting it. This, however, he unhappily omitted + to do, not because he was at all ignorant that a strict sense of duty, and + a due regard for his daughter’s welfare, demanded it; but because her + distress, and the childlike simplicity with which she cast herself upon + his bosom, touched his spirit, and drew forth all the affection of a + parent who “loved not wisely but too well.” + </p> + <p> + Let not my readers, however, condemn him too harshly for this, for alas, + he paid, in the bitterness of a father’s misery, a woeful and mysterious + penalty of a father’s weakness. His beloved one went before, and the old + man could not remain behind her; but their sorrows have passed away, and + both now enjoy that peace, which, for the last few years of their lives, + the world did not give them. + </p> + <p> + From this time forth Jane’s ear listened only to the music of a happy + heart, and her eye saw nothing but the beauty of that vision which shone + in her pure bosom like the star of evening in some limpid current that + glides smoothly between rustic meadows, on whose green banks the heart is + charmed into happiness by the distant hum of pastoral life. + </p> + <p> + Love however will not be long without its object, nor can the soul be + happy in the absence of its counterpart. For some time after the interview + in which the passion of our young lovers was revealed, Jane found solitude + to be the same solace to her love, that human sympathy is to affliction. + The certainty that she was now beloved, caused her heart to lapse into + those alternations of repose and enjoyment which above all other states of + feeling nourish its affections. Indeed the change was surprising which she + felt within her and around her. On looking back, all that portion of her + life that had passed before her attachment to Osborne, seemed dark and + without any definite purpose. She wondered at it as at a mystery which she + could not solve; it was only now that she lived; her existence commenced, + she thought, with her passion, and with it only she was satisfied it could + cease. Nature wore in her eyes a new aspect, was clothed with such beauty, + and breathed such a spirit of love and harmony, as she only perceived now + for the first time. Her parents were kinder and better she thought than + they had before appeared to her, and her sisters and brother seemed endued + with warmer affections and blighter virtues than they had ever possessed. + Every thing near her and about her partook in a more especial manner of + this delightful change; the servants were won by sweetness so irresistible—the + dogs were more kindly caressed, and Ariel—her own Ariel was, if + possible, more beloved. + </p> + <p> + Oh why—why is not love so pure and exalted as this, more + characteristic of human attachments? And why is it that affection, as + exhibited in general life, is so rarely seen unstained by the tint of some + darker passion? Love on, fair girl—love on in thy purity and + innocence! The beauty that thou seest in nature, and the music it sends + forth, exist only in thy own heart, and the light which plays around thee + like a glory, is only the reflection of that image whose lustre has taken + away the shadows from thy spirit! + </p> + <p> + In the mean time the heart, as we said, will, after the repose which must + follow excitement, necessarily move towards that object in which it seeks + its ultimate enjoyment. A week had now elapsed, and Jane began to feel + troubled by the absence of her lover. Her eye wished once more to feast + upon his beauty, and her ear again to drink in the melody of his voice. It + was true—it was surely true—and she put her long white fingers + to her forehead while thinking of him—yes, yes—it was true + that he loved her—but her heart called again for his presence, and + longed to hear him once more repeat, in fervid accents of eloquence the + enthusiasm of his passion. + </p> + <p> + Acknowledged love, however, in pure and honorable minds places the conduct + under that refined sense of propriety, which is not only felt to be a + restraint upon the freedom of virtuous principle itself, but is observed + with that jealous circumspection which considers even suspicion as a stain + upon its purity. No matter how intense affection in a virtuous bosom may + be, yet no decorum of life is violated by it, no outwork even of the minor + morals surrendered, nor is any act or expression suffered to appear that + might take away from the exquisite feeling of what is morally essential to + female modesty. For this reason, therefore, it was that our heroine, + though anxious to meet Osborne again, could not bring herself to walk + towards her accustomed haunts, lest he might suspect that she thus + indelicately sought him out. He had frequently been there, and wondered + that she never came; but however deep his disappointment at her absence, + or it might be, neglect, yet in consequence of their last interview, he + could not summon courage to pay a visit, as he had sometimes before, to + her family. + </p> + <p> + Nearly a fortnight had now elapsed, when Jane, walking one day in a small + shrubbery that skirted the little lawn before her father’s door, received + a note by a messenger whom she recognized as a servant of Mr. Osborne’s. + </p> + <p> + The man, after putting it into her hands, added: + </p> + <p> + “I was desired, if possible, to bring back an answer.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed deeply on receiving it, and shook so much that the tremor of + her small white hands gave evident proof of the agitation which it + produced in her bosom. She read as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh why is it that I cannot see you! or what has become of you? This + absence is painful to me beyond the power of endurance. Alas, if you loved + with the deep and burning devotion that I do, you would not thus avoid me. + Do you not know, and feel, that our hearts have poured into each other the + secret of our mutual passion. Oh surely, surely, you cannot forget that + moment—a moment for which I could willingly endure a century of + pain. That moment has thrown a charm into my existence that will render my + whole future life sweet. All that I may suffer will be, and already is + softened in the consciousness that you love me. Oh let me see you—I + cannot rest, I cannot live without you. I beseech you, I implore you, as + you would not bring me down to despair and sorrow—as you would not + wring my heart with the agony of disappointment, to meet me this evening + at the same place and the same hour as before. + </p> + <p> + “Yours—yours for ever, + </p> + <p> + “H. O. + </p> + <p> + “N.B.—The bearer is trustworthy, and already acquainted with the + secret of our attachment, so that you need not hesitate to send me a reply + by him—and let it be a written one.” + </p> + <p> + After pursuing this, she paused for a moment, and felt so much embarrassed + by the fact of their love being known to a third person, that she could + not look upon the messenger, while addressing him, without shame-facedness + and confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” she said at length, “I will return presently”—and + with a singular conflict between joy, shame, and terror, she passed with + downcast looks out of the shrubbery, sought her own room, and having + placed writing materials before her, attempted to write. It was not, + however, till after some minutes that she could collect herself + sufficiently to use them. As she took the pen in her hand, something like + guilt seemed to press upon her heart—the blood forsook her cheeks, + and her strength absolutely left her. + </p> + <p> + “Is not this wrong,” she thought. “I have already been guilty of + dissimulation, if not of direct-falsehood to my father, and now I am about + to enter into a correspondence without his knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + The acuteness of her moral sense occasioned her, in fact, to feel much + distress, and the impression of religious sanction early inculcated upon a + mind naturally so gentle and innocent as hers, cast by its solemn + influence a deep gloom over the brief history of their loves. She laid the + pen down, and covering her face with both hands, burst into a flood of + tears. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it,” she said to herself, “that a conviction as if of guilt + mingles itself with my affection for him; and that snatches of pain and + melancholy darken my mind, when I join in our morning and evening worship? + I fear, I fear, that God’s grace and protection have been withdrawn from + me ever since I deceived my father. But these errors,” she proceeded, “are + my own, and not Henry’s, and why should he suffer pain and distress + because I have been uncandid to others?” + </p> + <p> + Upon this slender argument she proceeded to write the following reply, but + still with an undercurrent of something like remorse stealing through a + mind that felt with incredible delicacy the slightest deviation from what + was right, yet possessed not the necessary firmness to resist what was + wrong. + </p> + <p> + “I know that it is indelicate and very improper—yes, and sinful in + me to write to you—and I would not do so, but that I cannot bear to + think that you should suffer pain. Why should you be distressed, when you + know that my affection for you will never change?—will, alas! I + should add, can never change. Dear Henry, is it not sufficient for our + happiness that our love is mutual? It ought at least to be so; and it + would be so, provided we kept its character unstained by any deviation + from moral feeling or duty in the sight of God. You must not continue to + write to me, for I shall not, and I can not persist in a course of + deliberate insincerity to those who love me with so much affection. I + will, however, see you this day, two hours earlier than the time appointed + in your note. I could not absent myself from the family then, without + again risking an indirect breach of truth, and this I am resolved never to + do. I hope you will not think less of me for writing to you, although it + be very wrong on my part. I have already wept for it, and my eyes are even + now filled with tears; but you surely will not be a harsh judge upon the + conduct of your own + </p> + <p> + “Jane Sinclair.” + </p> + <p> + Having sealed this letter, she hid it in her bosom, and after delaying a + short time to compose her features, again proceeded to the shrubbery, + where she found the servant waiting. Simple as was the act of handing him + the note, yet so inexpressibly delicate was the whole tenor of her mind, + that the slightest step irreconcilable with her standard of female + propriety, left behind it a distinct and painful trace that disturbed the + equilibrium of a character so finely balanced. With an abashed face and + burning brow, she summoned courage, however, to give it, and was instantly + proceeding home, when the messenger observed that she had given him the + wrong letter. She then took the right one from her bosom, and placing it + in his hands would again have hurried into the house.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not mean, I suppose, to send him back his own note,” observed the + man, handing her Osborne’s as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she replied, “give it to me; I knew not—in fact, it was a + mistake.” She then received Osborne’s letter, and hastily withdrew. + </p> + <p> + The reader may have observed, that so long as Jane merely contemplated the + affection that subsisted between Osborne and herself, as a matter + unconnected with any relative association, and one on which the heart will + dwell with delight while nothing intrudes to disturb its serenity, so long + was the contemplation of perfect happiness. But the moment she approached + her family, or found herself on the eve of taking another step in its + progress, such was her almost morbid candor, and her timid shrinking from + any violation of truth, that her affection for this very reason became + darkened, as she herself said, by snatches of melancholy and pain. + </p> + <p> + It is indeed difficult to say whether such a tender perception of good and + evil as characterized all her emotions, may not have predisposed her mind + to the unhappy malady which eventually overcame it; or whether, on the + other hand, the latent existence of the malady in her temperament may not + have rendered such perceptions too delicate for the healthy discharge of + human duties. + </p> + <p> + Be this as it may, our innocent and beautiful girl is equally to be + pitied; and we trust that in either case the sneers of the coarse and + heartless will be spared against a character they cannot understand. At + all events, it is we think slightly, and but slightly evident, that even + at the present stage of her affection, something prophetic of her + calamity, in a faintly perceptible degree may, to an observing mind, be + recognized in the vivid and impulsive power with which that affection has + operated upon her. If anything could prove this, it is the fervency with + which, previous to the hour of appointment, she bent in worship before + God, to beseech His pardon for the secret interview she was about to give + her lover. And in any other case, such an impression, full of religious + feeling as it was, would have prevented the subject of it from acting + contrary to its tendency; but here was the refined dread of error, lively + even to acuteness, absolutely incapable of drawing back the mind from the + transgression of moral duty which filled it with a feeling nearly akin to + remorse. + </p> + <p> + Jane that day met the family at dinner, merely as a matter of course, for + she could eat nothing. There was, independently of this, a timidity in her + manner which they noticed, but could not understand. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said her father, “you were never a great eater, Janie, but latterly + you live, like the chameleon, on air. Surely your health cannot be good, + with such a poor appetite;—your own Ariel eats more.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel my health to be very good, papa; but—” she hesitated a + little, attempted to speak, and paused again; “Although my health is + good,” she at last proceeded, “I am not, papa,—I mean my spirits are + sometimes better than they ever were, and sometimes more depressed.” + </p> + <p> + “They are depressed now, Jane,” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that, mamma. Indeed I could not describe my present state of + feeling; but I think,—indeed I know I am not so good as I ought to + be. I am not so good, mamma, and maybe one day you will all have to + forgive me more than you think.” + </p> + <p> + Her father laid his knife and fork down, and fixing his eyes + affectionately upon her, said: + </p> + <p> + “My child, there is something wrong with you.” + </p> + <p> + Jane herself, who sat beside her mother, made no reply; but putting her + arms about her neck, she laid her cheek against hers, and wept for many + minutes. She then rose in a paroxysm of increasing sorrow, and throwing + her arms about her father’s neck also, sobbed out as upon the occasion + already mentioned:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, pity and forgive me;—your poor Jane, pity her and forgive + her.” + </p> + <p> + The old man struggled with his grief, for he saw that the tears of the + family rendered it a duty upon him to be firm: nay, he smiled after a + manner, and said in a voice of forced good humor: + </p> + <p> + “You are a foolish slut, Jane, and play upon us, because you know we pet + and love you too much. If you cannot eat your dinner go play, and get an + appetite for to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed him, and as was her habit of compliance with his slightest + wish, left the room as he had desired her. + </p> + <p> + “Henry,” said his wife, “there is something wrong with her.” + </p> + <p> + For a time he could not speak; but after a deep silence he wiped away a + few straggling-tears, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes! do you not see that there is a mystery upon my child!—a + mystery which weighs down my heart with affliction.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa,” said Agnes, “don’t forbode evil for her.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a mere nervous affection,” said William. “She ought to take more + exercise. Of late she has been too much within.” + </p> + <p> + Maria and Agnes exchanged looks; and for the first time, a suspicion of + the probable cause flashed simultaneously across their minds. They sat + beside each other at dinner, and Maria said in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Agnes, you and I are thinking of the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of Jane,” said her candid and affectionate sister. + </p> + <p> + “My opinion is,” rejoined Maria, “that she is attached to Charles + Osborne.” + </p> + <p> + “I suspect it is so,” whispered Agnes. “Indeed from many things that occur + to me I am now certain of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see any particular harm in that,” replied Maria. + </p> + <p> + “It may be a very unhappy attachment for Jane, though,” said Agnes. “Only + think, Maria, if Osborne should not return her affection: I know Jane,—she + would sink under it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not return her affection!” replied her sister. “Where would he find + another so beautiful, and every way so worthy of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Maria; and I trust in heaven he may think so. But how, if he + should never know or suspect her love for him?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot answer that,” said the other; “but we will talk more about it + by-and-by.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst this dialogue went on in a low tone, the other members of the + family sat in silence and concern, each evidently anxious to develop the + mystery of Jane’s recent excitement at dinner. At length the old man’s eye + fell upon his two other daughters, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “What is this, children—what is this whispering all about? Perhaps + some of you can explain the conduct of that poor child.” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa,” said Agnes, “you are not to know all our secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not, indeed, Aggy? That’s pretty evident from the cautious tone in + which you and Mary speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but Agnes is right, Henry,” said her mother: “to know the + daughters’ secrets is my privilege—and yours to know William’s—if + he has any.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, mother, mine are easily carried, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose, papa,” observed Agnes, good-humoredly, “that I was to fall in + love, now—as is not—— + </p> + <p> + “Improbable that you may—you baggage,” replied her father, smiling, + whilst he completed the sentence; “Well, and you would not tell me if you + did?” + </p> + <p> + “No indeed, sir; I should not. Perhaps I ought,—but I could not, + certainly, bring myself to do it. For instance, would it be either modest + or delicate in me, to go and say to your face, ‘Papa, I’m in love.’ In + that case the next step, I suppose, would be to make you the messenger + between us. Now would you not expect as much, papa, if I told you?” said + the arch and lively girl. + </p> + <p> + “Aggy, you are a presuming gipsy,” replied the old man, joining in the + laugh which she had caused. “Me your messenger!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a steady one you would make, sir—I am sure you would not, + at all events, overstep your instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be one quality essentially necessary to any messenger of yours, + Agnes,” replied her father, in the same spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said she, suddenly changing her manner, and laying aside her + gayety, “what I said in jest of myself may be seriously true of another in + this family. Suppose Jane——” + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” exclaimed the old man;—“impossible! She is but a girl!—but + a child!” “Agnes, this is foolish of you,” said her sister. “It is + possible, after all, that you are doing poor Jane injustice. Papa, Agnes + only speaks from suspicion. We are not certain of anything. It was I + mentioned it first, but merely from suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “If Jane’s affections are engaged,” said her father, “I tremble to think + of the consequences should she experience the slightest disappointment. + But it cannot be, Maria,—the girl has too much sense, and her + principles are too well established.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you mean, girls?” inquired their mother, in a tone of surprise + and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Agnes,” said Maria, reprovingly, “it is neither fair nor friendly + to poor Jane, to bring out a story founded only on a mere surmise. Agnes + insists, mamma, that Jane is attached to Charles Osborne.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly occurred to us only a few moments ago, I allow,” replied + Agnes; “but if I am mistaken in this, I will give up my judgment in + everything else. And I mentioned it solely to prevent our own distress, + particularly papa’s, with respect to the change that is of late so visible + in her conduct and manner.” + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, however, that Mr. Sinclair and his wife both repudiated + the idea of her attachment to Osborne, and insisted that Agnes’ suspicion + was rash and groundless. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible, they said, that such an attachment could exist; Jane + and Osborne had seen too little of each other, and were both of a + disposition too shy and diffident to rush so precipitately into a passion + that is usually the result of far riper years than either of them had yet + reached. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair admitted that Jane was a girl full of affection, and likely + to be extremely susceptible, yet it was absurd, he added, to suppose for a + moment, that she would suffer them to be engaged, or her peace of mind + disturbed, by a foolish regard for a smooth-faced boy, and she herself not + much beyond sixteen. + </p> + <p> + There is scarcely to be found, in the whole range of human life and + character, any observation more true, and at the same time more difficult + to be understood, than the singular infatuation of parents who have + survived their own passions,—whenever the prudence of their children + happens to be called in question. + </p> + <p> + We know not whether such a fact be necessary to the economy of life, and + the free breathings of youthful liberty, but this at least is clear to any + one capable of noting down its ordinary occurrences, that no matter how + acutely and vividly parents themselves may have felt the passion of love + when young, they appear as ignorant of the symptoms that mark its stages + in the lives of their children, as if all memory of its existence had been + obliterated out of their being. Perhaps this may be wisely designed, and + no doubt it is, but, alas! its truth is a melancholy comment upon the + fleeting character of the only passion that charms our early life, and + fills the soul with sensations too ethereal to be retained by a heart + which grosser associations have brought beneath the standard of purity + necessary for their existence in it. + </p> + <p> + Jane, as she bent her way to the place of appointment, felt like one + gradually emerging out of darkness into light. The scene at dinner had + quickened her moral sense, which, as the reader already knows, was + previous to that perhaps morbidly acute. Every step, however, towards the + idol of her young devotion, removed the memory of what had occurred at + home, and collected around her heart all the joys and terrors that in + maidenly diffidence characterize the interview she was about to give her + lover. Oh how little do we know of those rapid lights and shadows which + shift and tremble across the spirits of the gentle sex, when approaching + to hold this tender communion with those whom they love. Nothing that we + remember resembles the busy working of the soul on such occasions, so much + as those lucid streamers which flit in sweeps of delicate light along the + northern sky, filling it at once with beauty and terror, and emitting at + the same time a far and almost inaudible undertone of unbroken music. + </p> + <p> + Trembling and fluttering like a newly-caught bird, Jane approached the + place of meeting and found Osborne there awaiting her. The moment he saw + the graceful young creature approach him, he felt that he had never until + then loved her so intensely. The first declaration of their attachment was + made during an accidental interview, but there is a feeling of buoyant + confidence that flashes up from the heart, when, at the first concerted + meeting of love we see the object of our affection advance towards us,—for + that deliberate act of a faithful heart separates the beloved one, in + imagination, to ourselves, and gives a fulness to our enjoyment which + melts us in an exulting tenderness indescribable by language. Those who + have doubted the punctuality of some beloved girl, and afterwards seen her + come, will allow that our description of that rapturous moment is not + overdrawn. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, dear Jane,” exclaimed Osborne, taking her hand and placing her + beside him, + </p> + <p> + “I neither knew my own heart nor thee extent of its affection for you + until this meeting. In what terms shall I express—but I will not + attempt it—I cannot—but my soul burns with love for you, such + as was ever felt by mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my trust and confidence in your love that brings me here,” she + replied; “and indeed, Charles, it is more than that—I know your + health is, at the best, easily affected, and your spirits naturally prone + to despondency; and I feared,” said the artless girl, “that—that—indeed + I feared you might suffer pain, and that pain might bring on ill health + again.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am so dear to you, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + Jane replied by a smile and looked inexpressibly tender. + </p> + <p> + “I am, I am!” he exclaimed with rapture; “and now the world—life—nothing—nothing + can add to the fulness of my happiness. And your note, my beloved—the + conclusion of it—your own Jane Sinclair! But you must be more my own + yet—legally and forever mine! Mine! Shall I be able to bear it!—shall + I? Jane?” said he, his enthusiastic temperament kindling as he spoke—“Oh + what, my dearest, my own dearest, if this should not last, will it not + consume me? Will it not destroy me? this overwhelming excess of rapture!” + </p> + <p> + “But you must restrain it, Charles; surely the suspense arising from the + doubt of our being beloved is more painful than the certainty that we are + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the exulting sense, my dear Jane, to me almost oppressive,—but + I rave, I rave; it is all delight—all happiness! Yes, it will + prolong life,—for we know what we live for.” + </p> + <p> + “We do,” said Jane, in a low, sweet voice, whilst her eye fed upon his + beauty. “Do I not live for you, Charles?” + </p> + <p> + His lip was near her cheek as she spoke; he then gently drew her to him, + and in a voice lower, and if possible more melodious than her own, said, + “Oh Jane, is there not something inexpressibly affectionate—some + wild and melting charm in the word wife?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a feeling,” she replied, evidently softened by the tender spirit + of his words, “of which you are a better judge than I can be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh say, my dearest, let me hear you say with your own lips, that you will + be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” she whispered—and as she spoke, he inhaled the fragrance + of her breath. + </p> + <p> + “My wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” + </p> + <p> + Sweet, and long, and rapturous was the kiss which sealed this sacred and + entrancing promise. The pathetic sentiment that pervaded their attachment + kept their passion pure, and seldom have two lovers so beautiful, sat + cheek to cheek together, in an embrace guileless and innocent as theirs. + </p> + <p> + Jane, however, withdrew herself from his arms, and for a few moments felt + not even conscious, so far was her heart removed from evil, that an + embrace under such circumstances was questionable, much less improper. + Following so naturally from the tenderness of their dialogue, it seemed to + be rather the necessary action arising from the eloquence of their + feeling, than an act which might incur censure or reproof. Her fine sense + of propriety, however, could be scarcely said to have slumbered, for, with + a burning cheek and a sobbing voice, she exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Charles, these secret meetings must cease. They have involved me in a + course of dissimulation and falsehood towards my family, which I cannot + bear. You say you love me, and I know you do, but surely you could not + esteem, nor place full confidence in a girl, who, to gratify either her + own affection or yours, would deceive her parents.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dearest girl, you reason too severely. Surely almost all who love + must, in the earliest stages of affection, practice, to a certain extent, + a harmless deception upon their friends, until at least their love is + sanctioned. Marriages founded upon mutual attachment would be otherwise + impracticable.” + </p> + <p> + “No deception, dear Charles, can be harmless. I cannot forget the precepts + of truth, and virtue, and obedience to a higher law even than his own + will, which my dear papa taught me, and I will never more violate them, + even for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too pure, too full of truth, my beloved girl, for this world. + Social life is carried on by so much dissimulation, hypocrisy, and + falsehood, that you will be actually unfit to live in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me die in it sooner than be guilty of any one of them. No, dear + Charles, I am not too full of truth. On the contrary, I cannot understand + how it is that my love for you has plunged me into deceit. Nay more, + Charles,” she exclaimed, rising up, and placing her hand on her heart, “I + am wrong here—why is it, will you tell me, that our attachment has + crossed and disturbed my devotions to God. I cannot worship God as I + would, and as I used to do. What if His grace be withdrawn from me? Could + you love me then? Could you love a cast-a-way? Charles, you love truth too + well to cherish affection for a being, a reprobate perhaps, and full of + treachery and falsehood. I am not such, but I fear sometimes that I am.” + </p> + <p> + Her youthful lover gazed upon her as she stood with her sparkling eyes + fixed upon vacancy. Never did she appear so beautiful, her features were + kindled into an expression which was new to him—but an expression so + full of high moral feeling, beaming like the very divinity of truth from + her countenance, yet overshadowed by an unsettled gloom, which gave to her + whole appearance the power of creating both awe and admiration in the + spectator. + </p> + <p> + The boy was deeply affected, and in a voice scarcely firm, said in + soothing and endearing accents, whilst he took her hand in his, + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my best beloved, and dearest—say, oh say in what manner I can + compose your mind, or relieve you from the necessity of practising the + deceit which troubles you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said she, bending her eye on him, “but it is sweet to be beloved by + those that are dear to us. Your sympathy thrills through my whole frame + with a soothing sensation inexpressibly delightful. It is sweet to me—for + you, Charles, are my only confident. Dear, dear Charles, how I longed to + see you, and to hear your voice.” + </p> + <p> + As she made this simple but touching admission of the power of her love, + she laid her head on his bosom and wept. Charles pressed her to his heart, + and strove to speak, but could not—she felt his tears raining fast + upon her face. + </p> + <p> + At length he said, pressing his beautiful once more to his beating bosom—“the + moment, the moment that I cease to love you, may it, O God, be my last.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, and quietly wiping her eyes, said—“I will go—we will + meet no more—no more in secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jane,” said her lover, “how shall I make myself worthy of you; but + why,” he added, “should our love be a secret? Surely it will be sanctioned + by our friends. You shall not be distressed by the necessity of + insincerity, although it would be wrong to call the simple concealment of + your love for me by so harsh a name.” + </p> + <p> + “But my papa,” she said, “he is so good to me; they are all so + affectionate, they love me too much; but my dear papa, I cannot stand with + a stain on my conscience in his presence. Not that I fear him; but it + would be treacherous and ungrateful: I would tell him all, but I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “My sweet girl, let not that distress you. Your father shall be made + acquainted with it from other lips. I will disclose the secret to my + father, and, with a proud heart, tell him of our affection.” + </p> + <p> + It never once occurred to a creature so utterly unacquainted with the ways + of the world as Jane was that Mr. Osburne might disapprove of their + attachment, and prevent a boy so youthful from following the bent of his + own inclinations. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Charles,” said she, smiling, “what a load their approval will take + off my heart. I can then have papa’s pardon for my past duplicity towards + him; and my mind will be so much soothed and composed. We can also meet + each other with their sanction.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife! my wife!” said Osborne, looking on her with a rapturous gaze of + love and admiration—and carrying her allusion to the consent of + their families up to the period when he might legitimately give her that + title—“My wife,” he exclaimed, “my young, my beautiful, my pure and + unspotted wife. Heavens! and is—is the day surely to come when I am + to call you so!” + </p> + <p> + The beautiful girl hung her head a moment as if abashed, then gliding + timidly towards him, leant upon his shoulder, and putting her lips up to + his ear, with a blush as much of delight as of modesty, whispered—“My + husband, my husband, why should not these words, dear Charles, be as sweet + a charm to my heart, as those you’ve mentioned are to yours. I would, but + I cannot add—no, I will not suffer it,” she exclaimed, on his + attempting, in the prostration of the moment, to embrace her. “You must + not presume upon the sincerity of an affectionate and ingenuous heart. + Farewell, dear Charles, until we can see each other without a + consciousness that we are doing wrong.” Saying which, she extended her + hand to him, and in a moment was on her way home. + </p> + <p> + And was the day to come when he could call her his? Alas! that day was + never registered in the records of time. + </p> + <p> + Oh! how deeply beloved was our heroine by her family, when her moods of + mind and state of spirits fixed the tone of their domestic enjoyments and + almost influenced the happiness of their lives. O gentle and pure spirit, + what heart cannot love thee, when those who knew thee best gathered their + affections so lovingly around thee, the star of their hearth—the + idol of their inner shrine—the beautiful, the meek, the + affectionate, and even then, in consequence of thy transcendant charms, + the far-famed Fawn of Springvale! + </p> + <p> + In the early part of that evening, Jane’s spirits, equable and calm, + hushed in a great measure the little domestic debate which had been held + at dinner, concerning the state of her affections. The whole family + partook of her cheerfulness, and her parents in particular, cast several + looks of triumphant sagacity, at Maria and Agnes, especially at the + latter. + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said her father in the triumph of his heart, “you are not aware + that Agnes is in love.” + </p> + <p> + The good-humored tone in which this was spoken, added to the utterly + unsuspicious character of the innocent being to whom the words were + addressed, rendered it impossible for Jane to suppose that there was any + latent meaning in his observation that could be levelled at herself. In + truth, there was not, for any satire it contained was directed especially + to Agnes. There are tones of voice, the drift of which no effort, however + forced, or studied, can conceal, particularly from, those who, by intimacy + and observation, are acquainted with them, and with the moods of mind and + shades of feeling which prompt them. Jane knew intuitively by the tone in + which her father spoke—and by the expression of his countenance, + that the words were not meant to apply by any direct analogy to herself. + She consequently preserved her composure and replied to the question, with + the same good humor in which the words were uttered. + </p> + <p> + “Agnes in love! Well, papa, and surely that is not unnatural.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Jane,” replied Agnes. “Papa, that’s a rebuff worth something; + and Jane,” she proceeded, anxious still to vindicate her own sagacity with + respect to her sister, “suppose I should be in love, surely I may carry on + an innocent intercourse with my lover, without consulting papa.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Agnes, you should not,” replied her sister, vehemently; “no + intercourse—no intercourse without papa’s knowledge, can be + innocent. There is deceit and dissimulation in it—there is treachery + in it. It is impossible to say how gloomily such an intercourse may end. + Only think, my dear Agnes,” she proceeded, in a low, but vehement and + condensed voice—“only think, dear Agnes, what the consequences might + be to you if such an attachment, and such a clandestine mode of conducting + it, should in consequence of your duplicity to papa, cause the Almighty + God to withdraw His grace from you, and that, you should thereby become a + cast-away—a castaway! I shudder to think of it! I shudder to think + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, sit beside me,” said Mr. Sinclair; “you are rather too hard upon + poor Agnes—but, still come, and sit beside me. You are my own sweet + child—my own dutiful and candid girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, I cannot, papa, I dare not,” she exclaimed, and without + uttering another word she arose, and rushed out of the room. In less than + a minute, however, she returned again, and approaching him, said—“Papa, + forgive me, I will, I trust, soon be a better girl than I am; bless me and + bid me good-night. Mamma, bless me you too, I am your poor Jane, and I + know you all love me more than you ought. Do not think that I am unhappy—don’t + think it. I have not been for some time so happy as I am to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She then passed out of the room, and retired to her own apartment. + </p> + <p> + When she was gone, Agnes, who sat beside | her father, turned to him, and + leaned her I head upon his breast, burst into bitter tears. “Papa,” she + exclaimed, “I believe you will now admit that I have gained the victory. + My sister’s peace of mind or happiness is gone for ever. Unless Osborne + either now is, or becomes in time attached to her, I know not what the + consequences may be.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be well for Osborne, at all events, if he has not practised upon + her affections,” said William; “that is, granting that the suspicion, be + just. But the truth is, I don’t think Osborne has any thing to do with her + feelings. It is merely some imaginary trifle that she has got into her + foolish little head, poor girl. Don’t distress yourself, father—you + know she was always over-scrupulous. Even the most harmless fib that ever + was told, is a crime in her eyes. I wish, for my part, she had a little + wholesome wickedness about—I don’t mean that sir, in a very + unfavorable light,” he said in reply to a look of severity from his + father, “but I wish she had some leaning to error about her. She would, in + one sense at least, be the better for it.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” said his father, who evidently spoke in deep distress of + mind, “we shall consider in the course of the evening what ought to be + done.” + </p> + <p> + “Better to take her gently,” observed her mother, wiping away a tear, + “gentleness and love will make her tell anything—and that there is + something on her mind no one can doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t have her distressed, my dear,” replied her father. “It cannot be + of much importance I think after all—but whatever it may be, her own + candid mind will give it forth spontaneously. I know my child, and will + answer for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then, papa, are you so much distressed, if you think it of no + importance?” asked Maria. + </p> + <p> + “If her finger ached, it would distress me, child, and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she and Osborne have had no opportunity of being together, out of + the eyes of the family,” observed William. + </p> + <p> + “That’s more than you know, William,” said Agnes; “she has often walked + out.” + </p> + <p> + “But she always did so,” replied her mother. + </p> + <p> + “She would never meet him privately,” said her father firmly, “of that I + am certain as my life.” + </p> + <p> + “That, papa,” returned Agnes, “I am afraid, is precisely what she has + done, and what now distresses her. And I am sure that whatever is wrong + with her, no explanation will be had from herself. Though kind and + affectionate as ever, she has been very shy with me and Maria of late—and + indeed, has made it a point to keep aloof from us! Three or four times I + spoke to her in a tone of confidence, as if I was about to introduce some + secret of my own, but she always under some pretense or other left me. I + had not thought of Osborne at the time, nor could I guess what troubled + her—but something I saw did.” Her father sighed deeply, and, + clasping his hands, uttered a silent ejaculation to heaven on her behalf. + “That is true,” said he, “it is now the hour of evening worship; let us + kneel and remember her trouble, the poor child, whatever it may be.” “Had + I not better call her down, papa,” said Agnes. + </p> + <p> + “Not this evening,” he replied, “not this evening—she is too much + disturbed, and will probably prefer praying alone.” + </p> + <p> + The old man then knelt down, and after the usual form of evening worship, + uttered a solemn and affecting appeal upon her behalf, to Him, who can + pour balm upon the wounded spirit, and say unto the weary and heavy laden, + “Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.” But when he went on in words + more particularly describing her state of mind, to mention, and plead for + “their youngest,” and “their dearest,” and “their best beloved,” his voice + became tremulous, and for a moment he paused, but the pause was filled + with the sobbings of those who loved her, and especially by the voice of + that affectionate sister who loved her most—for of them all, Agnes + only wept aloud. At length the prayer was concluded, and rising up with + wet eyes, they perceived that the beloved object of their supplications + had glided into the room, and joined their worship unperceived. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Jane,” said her father, “we did not know you were with us.” + </p> + <p> + She made no immediate reply, but, after a moment’s apparent struggle, went + over, and laying her head upon his bosom, sobbed out—“Papa, your + love has overcome me. I will tell you all.” + </p> + <p> + “Soul of truth and candor,” exclaimed the old man, clasping her to his + bosom, “heroic child! I knew she would do it, and I said so. Go out now, + and leave us to ourselves. Darling, don’t be distressed. If you feel + difficulty I will not ask to hear it. Or perhaps you would rather mention + it to your mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “No—to you papa—to you—and you will not be harsh upon + me, I am a weak girl, and have done very wrong.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a beautiful thing to see this fair and guiltless penitent + leaning against her indulgent father’s bosom, in which her blushing face + was hid, and disclosing the history of an attachment as pure and innocent + as ever warmed the heart of youth and beauty. Oh no wonder, thou sweetest + and most artless of human beings, that when the heavy blight of reason + came upon thee, and thou disappearedst from his eyes, that the old man’s + spirit became desolate and his heart broken, and that he said after thy + dissolution to every word of comfort uttered to him—“It is vain, it + is vain—I cannot stay. I hear her voice calling me—she calls + me, my beautiful—my pride—my child—my child—she + calls me, and I cannot stay.” Nor did he long. + </p> + <p> + To none else did her father that night reveal the purport of this singular + disclosure, except to Mrs. Sinclair herself—but the next morning + before breakfast, the secret had been made known to the rest. All trouble + and difficulty, as to the conduct they should pursue, were removed in + consequence of Osborne’s intention to ask his father to sanction their + attachment, and until the consequence of that step should be known, + nothing further on their part could be attempted. On this point, however, + they were not permitted to remain long in suspense, for ere two o’clock + that day, Mr. Osborne had, in the name of his son, proposed for the hand + of our fair girl, which proposal we need scarcely say was instantly and + joyfully accepted. It is true, their immediate union was not contemplated. + Both were much too youthful and inexperienced to undertake the serious + duties of married life, but it was arranged that Osborne, whose health, + besides, was not sufficiently firm, should travel, see the world, and + strengthen his constitution by the genial air of a warmer and more + salubrious climate. + </p> + <p> + Alas! why is it that the sorrows of love are far sweeter than its joys? We + do not mean to say that our young hero and heroine, if we may presume so + to call them, were insensible to this lapse of serene delight which now + opened upon them. No—the happiness they enjoyed was indeed such as + few taste in such a world as this is. Their attachment was now sanctioned + by all their mutual friends, and its progress was unimpeded by an scruple + arising from clandestine intercourse, or a breach of duty. But, with + secrecy, passed away those trembling snatches of unimaginable transport + which no state of permitted love has ever yet known. The stolen glance, + the passing whisper, the guarded pressure of the soft white hand timidly + returned, and the fearful rapture of the hurried kiss—alas! alas!—and + alas! for the memory of Eloiza! + </p> + <p> + Time passed, and the preparations necessary for Osborne’s journey were in + fact nearly completed. One day, about a fortnight before his departure, he + and Jane were sitting in a little ozier summer-house in Mr. Sinclair’s + garden, engaged in a conversation more tender than usual, for each felt + their love deeper and their hearts sink as the hour of separation + approached them. Jane’s features exhibited such a singular union of placid + confidence and melancholy, as gave something Madonna-like and divine to + her beauty. Osborne sat, and for a long time gazed upon her with a silent + intensity of rapture for which he could find no words. At length he + exclaimed in a reverie— + </p> + <p> + “I will swear it—I may swear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear what, Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “That the moment I see a girl more beautiful, I will cease to write to you—I + will cease to love you.” + </p> + <p> + The blood instantly forsook her cheeks, and she gazed at him with wonder + and dismay. + </p> + <p> + “What, dear Charles, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my pride and my treasure!” he exclaimed, wildly clasping her to his + bosom—“there is none so fair—none on earth or in heaven itself + so beautiful—that, my own ever dearest, is my meaning.” + </p> + <p> + The confidence of her timid and loving heart was instantly restored—and + she said smiling, yet with a tear struggling through her eyelid, “I + believe I am I think I am beautiful. I know they call me the Fawn of + Springvale, because I am gentle.” + </p> + <p> + “The angels are not so gentle, nor so pure, nor so innocent as you are, my + un-wedded wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I am,” she replied; “and I am glad, too, that I am beautiful—but + it is all on your account, and for your sake, dear Charles.” + </p> + <p> + The fascination—the power of such innocence, and purity, and love, + utterly overcame him, and he wept in transport upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + The approach of her sisters, however, and the liveliness of Agnes, soon + changed the character of their dialogue. For an hour they ran and chased + each other, and played about, after which Charles took his leave of them + for the evening. Jane, as usual, being the last he parted from, whispered + to him,as he went— + </p> + <p> + “Charles, promise me, that in future you won’t repeat—the—the + words you used in, the summer-house.” + </p> + <p> + “What words, love?” “You remember—about—about—what you + said you might <i>swear</i>—and that, in that case, you would cease + to love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why dearest, should I promise you this?” “Because,” she said, in a low, + sweet whisper, “they disturb me when I think of them—a slight thing + makes my heart sink.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a foolish, sweet girl—but I promise you, I shall never + again use them.” + </p> + <p> + She bestowed on him a look and smile that were more than a sufficient + compensation for this; and after again bidding him farewell, she tripped + lightly into the house. + </p> + <p> + From this onward, until the day of their separation, the spirits of our + young lovers were more and more overcast, and the mirthful intercourse of + confident love altogether gone. Their communion was now marked by + despondency and by tears, for the most part shed during their confidential + interviews with each other. In company they were silent and dejected, and + ever as their eyes met in long and loving glances, they could scarcely + repress their grief. Sometimes, indeed, Jane on being spoken to, after a + considerable silence, would attempt in vain to reply, her quivering voice + and tearful eyes affording unequivocal proof of the subject which engaged + her heart. Their friends, of course, endeavored to console and sustain + them on both sides; and frequently succeeded in soothing them into a + childlike resignation to the necessity that occasioned the dreary period + of absence that lay before them. These intervals of patience, however, did + not last long; the spirits of our young lovers were, indeed, disquieted + within them, and the heart of each drooped under the severest of all its + calamities—the pain of loss for that object which is dearest to its + affections. + </p> + <p> + It was arranged that, on the day previous to Charles’ departure, Osborne’s + family should dine at Mr. Sinclair’s; for they knew that the affliction + caused by their separation would render it necessary that Jane, on that + occasion, should be under her own roof, and near the attention and aid of + her friends. Mr. Osborne almost regretted the resolution to which he had + come of sending his son to travel, for he feared that the effect of + absence from the fair girl to whom he was so deeply attached, might + possibly countervail the benefits arising from a more favorable climate; + but as he had already engaged the services of an able and experienced + tutor, who on two or three previous occasions had been over the Continent, + he expected, reasonably enough, that novelty, his tutor’s good sense, and + the natural elasticity of youth would soon efface a sorrow in general so + transient, and in due time restore him to his usual spirits. He + consequently adhered to his resolution—the day of departure was + fixed, and arrangements made for the lovers to separate, as we have + already intimated. + </p> + <p> + Jane Sinclair, from the period when Osborne’s attachment and hers was + known and sanctioned by their friends, never slept a night from her + beloved sister Agnes; nor had any other person living, not even Osborne + himself, such an opportunity as Agnes had of registering in the record of + a sisterly heart so faithful a transcript of her love. + </p> + <p> + On the night previous to their leave taking, Agnes was astonished at the + coldness of her limbs, and begged her to allow additional covering to be + put on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear Agnes, no; only grant me one favor—do not speak to me—leave + my heart to its own sorrows—to its own misery—to its own + despair; for, Agnes, I feel a presentiment that I shall never see him + again.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed her lips against Agnes’ cheek when she had concluded, and + Agnes almost started, for that lip hitherto so glowing and warm, felt hard + and cold as marble. + </p> + <p> + Osborne, who for some time past had spent almost every day at Mr. + Sinclair’s, arrived the next morning ere the family had concluded + breakfast. Jane immediately left the table, for she had tasted nothing but + a cup of tea, and placing herself beside him on the sofa, looked up + mournfully into his face for more than a minute; she then caught his hand, + and placing it between hers, gazed upon him again, and smiled. The boy saw + at once that the smile was a smile of misery, and that the agony of + separation was likely to be too much for her to bear. The contrast at that + moment between them both was remarkable. She pale, cold, and almost + abstracted from the perception of her immediate grief; he glowing in the + deep carmine of youth and apparent health—his eye as well as hers + sparkling with a light which the mere beauty of early life never gives. + Alas, poor things! little did they, or those to whom they were so very + dear, imagine that, as they then gazed upon each other, each bore in + lineaments so beautiful the symptoms of the respective maladies that were + to lay them low. + </p> + <p> + “I wish, Jane, you would try and get up your spirits, love, and see and be + entertaining to poor Charles, as this is the last day he is to be with + you.” + </p> + <p> + She looked quickly at her mother, “The I last, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean for a while, dear, until after his I return from the Continent.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed relieved by this. “Oh no, not the last, Charles,” she said—“Yet + I know not how it is—I know not; but sometimes, indeed, I think it + is—and if it were, if it were—” + </p> + <p> + A paleness more deadly spread over her face; and with a gaze of mute and + undying-devotion she clasped her hands, and repeated—“if it should + be the last—the last!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think you were so foolish or so weak a girl, Jane,” said + William, “as to be so cast down, merely because Charles is taking a skip + to the Continent to get a mouthful of fresh air, and back again. Why, I + know them that go to the Continent four times a year to transact business + a young fellow, by the way, that has been paying his addresses to a lady + for the last six or seven years. I wish you saw them part, as I did—merely + a hearty shake of the hand—‘good by, Molly, take care of yourself + till I see you again;’ and ‘farewell, Simon, don’t forget the shawl;’ and + the whole thing’s over, and no more about it.” + </p> + <p> + There was evidently something in these words that jarred upon a spirit of + such natural tenderness as Jane’s. While William was repeating them, her + features expressed a feeling as if of much inward pain; and when he had + concluded, she rose up, and seizing both his hands, said, in a tone of + meek and earnest supplication: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! William dear, do not, do not—it is not consolation—it is + distress.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Jane,” said the good-natured brother, at once feeling his error, + “pardon me, I was wrong; there is no resemblance in the cases—I only + wanted to raise your spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “True, William, true; I ought to thank you, and I do thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst this little incident took place, Mr. Sinclair came over and sat + beside Charles. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear Charles,” said he, “what a heavy task your separation + from that poor girl is likely to prove. Let me beg that you will be as + firm as possible, and sustain her by a cheerful play of spirits, if you + can command them. Do violence to your! own heart for this day for her + sake.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be firm, sir,” said Osborne, “if I can: but if I fail—if I—look + at her,” he proceeded, in a choking voice, “look at her, and then ask + yourself why I—I should be firm?” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he spoke, Jane came over, and seating herself between her father + and him, said: + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you will stay with me and Charles this day, and support us. You + know, papa, that I am but a weak, weak girl; but when I do a wrong thing, + I feel very penitent—I cannot rest.” + </p> + <p> + “You never did wrong, darling,” said Osborne, pressing his lips to her + cheek, “you never did wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa says I did not do much wrong; yet at one time I did not think so + myself; but there is a thing presses upon me still. Papa,” she added, + turning abruptly to him, “are there not such things in this life as + judgments from heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear, upon the wicked who, by deep crimes, provoke the justice of + the Almighty; but the ways of God are so mysterious, and the innocent so + often suffer whilst the guilty escape, that we never almost hazard an + opinion upon individual cases.” “But there are cast-aways?” “Yes, darling; + but here is Charles anxious to take you out to walk. With such a prospect + of happiness and affection before you both, you ought surely to be in the + best of spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can see why you evade my question,” she replied; but she added + abruptly, “bless us, papa, bless us.” She knelt down, and pulled Charles + gently upon his knees also, and joining both hands together, bent her head + as if to receive the benediction. + </p> + <p> + Oh, mournful and heart-breaking was her loveliness, as she knelt down + before the streaming eyes of her family—a Magdeline in beauty, + without her guilt. + </p> + <p> + The old man, deeply moved by the distress of the interesting pair then + bent before him, uttered a short prayer suitable to the occasion, after + which he blessed them both, and again recommended them to the care of + heaven, in terms of touching and beautiful simplicity. His daughter seemed + relieved by this, for, after rising, she went to her mother and said: + </p> + <p> + “We are going to walk, mamma. I must endeavor to keep my spirits up this + day, for poor Charles’ sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, love, do,” said her mother, “that’s a good girl. Let me see how + cheerful and sprightly you’ll be; and think, dear, of the happy days that + are before you and Charles yet, when you’ll live in love and affection, + surrounded and cherished by both your families.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said she, “I often think of that—I’ll try mamma—I’ll + try.” + </p> + <p> + Saying which, she took Charles’s arm, and the young persons all went out + together. + </p> + <p> + Jane’s place, that evening, was by Osborne’s side, as it had been with + something like a faint clinging of terror during the whole day. She spoke + little, and might be said rather to respond to all he uttered, than to + sustain a part in the dialogue. Her distress was assuredly deep, but they + knew not then, nor by any means suspected how fearful was its character in + the remote and hidden depths of her soul. She sat with Osborne’s right + hand between hers, and scarcely for a moment ever took her sparkling eyes + off his countenance. Many times was she observed to mutter to herself, and + her lips frequently moved as if she had been speaking, but no words were + uttered, nor any sense of her distress expressed. Once, only, in the + course of the evening, were they startled into a hush of terror and + dismay, by a single short laugh, uttered so loud and wildly, that a pause + followed it, and, as if with one consentaneous movement, they all + assembled about her. Their appearance, however, seemed to bring her to + herself, for with her left hand she wafted them away, saying, “Leave us—leave + us—this is a day of sorrow to us—the day will end, but when, + when, alas, will the sorrow? Papa, some of us will need your prayers now—the + sunshine of Jane’s life is over—I am the Fawn of Springvale no more—my + time with the holy and affectionate flock of whom I was and am an unworthy + one, will be short—I may be with you a day, as it were, the next is + come and Jane is gone for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Osborne, “I shall not go;” and as he spoke he pressed her + to his bosom—“I will never leave her.” + </p> + <p> + The boy’s tears fell rapidly upon her pale cheeks, and on feeling them she + looked up and smiled. + </p> + <p> + The sobbings of the family were loud, and bitter were the tears which the + tender position of the young and beautiful pair wrung from the eyes that + looked upon them. “Your health, my boy,” said his father, “my beautiful + and only boy, render it necessary that you should go. It is but for a + time, Jane dear, my daughter, my boy’s beloved, it is only for a time—let + him leave you for a little, and he will return confirmed in health and + knowledge, and worthy my dear, dear girl, to be yours for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter,” said Mr. Sinclair, “was once good and obedient, and she + will now do whatever is her own papa’s wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Name it, papa, name it,” said she, still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Suffer Charles to go, my darling—and do not—oh! do not take + his departure so much to heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles, you must go,” said she. “It is the wish of your own father and + of mine—but above all, it is the wish of your own—you cannot, + you must not gainsay him. What we can prosper which is founded on + disobedience or deceit? You know the words you once loved so well to + repeat—I will repeat them now—you must, you will not surely + refuse the request of <i>your own Jane Sinclair</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The boy seemed for some time irresolute but at length he clasped her in + his arms, and, again, said, in a vehement burst of tenderness: + </p> + <p> + “No, father, my heart is resolved, I will never leave her. It will kill + me, it will lay me in an early grave, and you will have no son to look + upon.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will see the heroic example that Jane will set you,” said Mr. + Sinclair, “she will shame you into firmness, for she will now take leave + of you at once; and see then if you love her as you say you do, whether + you will not respect her so far as to follow her example. Jane, bid + Charles farewell.” + </p> + <p> + This was, perhaps, pressing her strength too far; at all events, the + injunction came so unexpectedly, that a pause followed it, and they waited + with painful expectation to see what she would do. For upwards of a minute + she sat silent, and her lips moved as if she were communing with herself. + At length she rose up, and stooping down kissed her lover’s cheek, then, + taking his hand as before between hers, she said in a voice astonishingly + calm. + </p> + <p> + “Charles, farewell—remember that I am your Jane Sinclair. Alas!” she + added, “I am weak and feeble—help me out of the room.” Both her + parents assisted her to leave it, but, on reaching the door, she drew back + involuntarily, on hearing Osborne’s struggles to detain her. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she said, with a look inexpressibly wobegone and suppliant—“Mamma!” + “Sweet child, what is it?” said both. “Let me take one last look of him—it + will be the last—but not—I—I trust, the last act of my + duty to you both.” + </p> + <p> + She turned round and gazed upon him for some time—her features, as + she looked, dilated into an expression of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not,” said she, in a low placid whisper, while her smiling eye + still rested upon him—“is he not beautiful? Oh! yes, he is beautiful—he + is beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “He is, darling—he is,” said both—“come away now—be only + a good firm girl and all will soon be well.” + </p> + <p> + “Very, very beautiful,” said she, in a low contented voice, as without any + further wish to remain, she accompanied her parents to another room. + </p> + <p> + Such was their leaving-taking—thus did they separate. Did they ever + meet! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART III. + </h2> + <p> + In the history of the affections we know that circumstances sometimes + occur, where duty and inclination maintain a conflict so nicely balanced + so as to render it judicious not to exact a fulfillment of the former, + lest by deranging the structure of our moral feelings, we render the mind + either insensible to their existence, or incapable of regulating them. + This observation applies only to those subordinate positions of life which + involve no great principle of conduct, and violate no cardinal point of + human duty. We ought neither to do evil nor suffer evil to be done, where + our authority can prevent it, in order that good may follow. But in + matters where our own will creates the offence, it is in some peculiar + cases not only prudent but necessary to avoid straining a mind naturally + delicate, beyond the powers which we know it to possess. We think, for + instance, that it was wrong in Mr. Sinclair, at a moment when the act of + separating from Osborne might have touched, the feelings of his daughter + into that softness which lightens and relieves the heart, abruptly to + suppress emotions so natural, by exacting a proof of obedience too severe + and oppressive to the heart of one who loved as Jane did. She knew it was + her duty to obey him the moment he expressed his wish; but he was bound by + no duty to demand such an unnecessary proof of her obedience. The + immediate consequences, however, made him sufficiently sensible of his + error, and taught him that a knowledge of the human heart is the most + difficult task which a parent has to learn. + </p> + <p> + Jane, conducted by her parents, having reached another apartment, sat down—her + father taking a chair on one side, and her mother on the other. + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” said Mr. Sinclair, “I will never forget this proof of your + obedience to me, on so trying an occasion. I knew I might rely upon my + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Jane made no reply to this, but sat apparently wrapped up in an ecstacy of + calm and unbroken delight. The smile of happiness with which she + contemplated Osborne, on taking her last look of him, was still upon her + face, and contrasted so strongly with the agony which they knew she must + have felt, that her parents, each from an apprehension of alarming the + other, feared openly to allude to it, although they felt their hearts sink + in dismay and terror. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, why do you not speak to your papa and me?” said her mother; “speak + to us, love, speak to us—if it was only one word.” + </p> + <p> + She appeared not to hear this, nor to be at all affected by her mother’s + voice or words. After the latter spoke she smiled again, and immediately + putting up her long white fingers through the ringlets that shaded her + cheek, she pulled them down as one would pressing them with slight + convulsive energy as they passed through, her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Henry, dear, what—what is the matter with her?” inquired her + mother, whose face became pale with alarm. “Oh! what is wrong with my + child!—she does not know us!—Gracious heaven, whats is this!” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my love, wont you speak to your papa?” said Mr. Sinclair. “Speak to + me, my darling,—it is I,—it is your own papa that asks you?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, and seemed for a moment struggling to recover a + consciousness of her situation; but it passed away, and the scarcely + perceptible meaning which began almost to become visible in her eye, was + again succeeded by that smile which they both so much dreaded to see. + </p> + <p> + The old man shook his head, and looked with a brow darkened by sorrow, + first upon his daughter, and afterwards upon his wife. “My heart’s + delight,” he exclaimed, “I fear I have demanded more from your obedience + than you could perform without danger to yourself. I wish I had allowed + her grief to flow, and not required such an abrupt and unseasonable proof + of her duty. It was too severe an injunction to a creature so mild and + affectionate,—and would to God that I had not sought it!” + </p> + <p> + “Would to heaven that you had not, my dear Henry. Let us try, however, and + move her heart,—if tears could come she would be relieved.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring Agnes in,” said her father, “bring in Agnes, she may succeed better + with her than we can,—and if Charles be not already gone, there is + no use in distressing him by at all alluding to her situation. She is only + overpowered, I trust, and will soon recover.” The mother, on her way to + bring Agnes to her sister, met the rest of the family returning to the + house after having taken leave of Osborne. The two girls were weeping, for + they looked upon him as already a brother; whilst William, in a + good-humored tone, bantered them for the want of firmness. + </p> + <p> + “I think, mother,” said he, “they are all in love with him, if they would + admit it. Why here’s Maria and Agnes, and I dare say they’re making as + great a rout about him as Jane herself! But bless me! what’s the, matter, + mother, that you look so pale and full of alarm?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s Jane—it’s Jane,” said Agnes. “Mother, there’s something + wrong!” and as she spoke she stopped, with uplifted hands, apparently + fastened to the earth. + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” exclaimed her mother,—“for heaven’s sake come in, + Agnes. Oh, heaven grant that it may soon pass away. Agnes, dear girl, you + know her best—come in quick; her papa wants you to try what you can + do with her.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment this loving family, with pale faces and beating hearts, stood + in a circle about their affectionate and beautiful sister. Jane sat with + her passive hand tenderly pressed between her father’s,—smiling; but + whether in unconscious happiness or unconscious misery, who alas! can say? + </p> + <p> + “You see she knows none of us,” said her mother. “Neither her papa nor me. + Speak to her each of you, in turn. Perhaps you may be more successful. + Agnes,—” + </p> + <p> + “She will know me,” replied Agnes; “I am certain she will know me;”—and + the delightful girl spoke with an energy that was baaed upon the + confidence of that love which subsisted between them. Maria and her + brother both burst into tears; but Agnes’s affection rose above the mood + of ordinary grief. The confidence that her beloved sister’s tenderness for + her would enable her to touch a chord in a heart so utterly her own as + Jane’s was, assumed upon this occasion the character of a wild but + mournful enthusiasm, that was much more expressive of her attachment than + could be the loudest and most vehement sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “If she could but shed tears,” said her mother, wringing her hands. + </p> + <p> + “She will,” returned Agnes, “she will. Jane,” she exclaimed, “Jane, don’t + you know your own Agnes?—your own Agnes, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + The family waited in silence for half a minute, but their beloved one + smiled on, and gave not the slightest token of recognizing either Agnes’s + person or her voice. Sometimes her lips moved, and she appeared to be + repeating certain words to herself, but in a voice so low and indistinct + that no one could catch them. + </p> + <p> + Agnes’s enthusiasm abandoned her on seeing that that voice to which her + own dearest sister ever sweetly and lovingly responded, fell upon her ear + as an idle and unmeaning sound. Her face became deadly pale, and her lip + quivered, as she again addressed the unconscious girl. Once more she took + her hand in hers, and placing herself before her, put her fingers to her + cheek in order to arrest her attention. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, look upon me; look upon me;—that’s a sweet child,—look + upon me. Sure I am Agnes—your own Agnes, who will break her heart if + my sweet sister doesn’t speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + The stricken one raised her head, and looked into her face; but it was, + alas! too apparent that she saw her not; for the eye, though smiling, was + still vacant. Again her lips moved, and she spoke so as to be understood + towards the door through which she had entered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she exclaimed, in the same low, placid voice, “yes, he is + beautiful! Is he not beautiful? Fatal beauty!—fatal beauty! It is a + fatal thing—it is a fatal thing!—but he is very, very + beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said Maria, taking her hand from Agnes’s, “Jane, speak to Maria, + dear. Am not I, too, your own Maria? that loves you not less than—my + darling, darling child—they do not live that love you better than + your own Maria;—in pity, darling, in pity speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + The only reply was a smile, that rose into the murmuring music of a low + laugh; but this soon ceased, her countenance became troubled, and her + finely-pencilled brows knit, as if with an inward sense of physical pain. + William, her father, her mother, each successively addressed her, but to + no purpose. Though a slight change had taken place, they could not succeed + in awakening her reason to a perception of the circumstances in which she + was placed. They only saw that the unity of her thought, or of the image + whose beauty veiled the faculties of her mind was broken, and that some + other memory, painful in its nature, had come in to disturb the serenity + of her unreal happiness; but this, which ought to have given them hope, + only alarmed them the more. The father, while these tender and affecting + experiments were tried, sat beside her, his eyes laboring under a weight + of deep and indescribable calamity, and turning from her face to the faces + of those who attempted to recall her reason, with a mute vehemence of + sorrow which called up from the depths of their sister’s misery a feeling + of compassion for the old man whom she had so devotedly loved. + </p> + <p> + “My father’s heart is breaking,” said William, groaning aloud, and + covering his face with his hands. “Father, your face frightens me more + than Jane’s;—don’t, father, don’t. She is young,—it will pass + away—and father dear where is your reliance upon her—upon her + aid!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Henry,” said his wife, “you should be our support. It is the + business of your life to comfort and sustain the afflicted.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Agnes, “come with me for a few minutes, until you recover the + shock which—which——” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and dropping her head upon the knees of her smiling and + apparently happy sister, wept aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Agnes—Agnes,” said William, (they were all in tears except her + father) “Agnes, I am ashamed of you;”—yet his own cheeks were wet, + and his voice faltered. “Father, come with me for awhile. You will when + alone for a few minutes, bethink you of your duty—for it is your + duty to bear this not only as becomes a Christian man, but a Christian + minister, who is bound to give us example as well as precept.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, William, I know it;—and you shall witness my fortitude, + my patience, my resignation under this—this——-. I will + retire. But is she not—alas! I should say, was she not my youngest + and my dearest! You admit yourselves she was the best.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, come,” said William. + </p> + <p> + “Dear father—dear papa, go with him,” said Agnes. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” said Maria, “as he said to <i>her</i>, will be himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” said the old man; “I know how to be firm; I will reflect; I + will pray; I will weep. I must, I must——” + </p> + <p> + He pressed the beautiful creature to his bosom, kissed her lips, and as he + hung over her, his tears fell in torrents upon her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Oh! what a charm must be in sympathy, and in the tears which it sheds over + the afflicted, when those of the grey-haired father could soothe his + daughter’s soul into that sorrow which is so often a relief to the + miserable and disconsolate! + </p> + <p> + When Jane first felt his tears upon her cheeks, she started slightly, and + the smile departed from her countenance. As he pressed her to his heart + she struggled a little, and putting her arms out, she turned up her eyes + upon his face, and after a long struggle between memory and insanity, at + length whispered out “papa!” + </p> + <p> + “You are with me, darling,” he exclaimed; “and I am with you, too: and + here we are all about you,—your mother, and Agnes, and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” she replied; “but papa,—and where is my mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here, my own love; here I am. Jane, collect yourself, my treasure. + You are overcome with sorrow. The parting from Charles Osborne has been + too much for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it was wrong to mention his name,” whispered William. “May it not + occasion a relapse, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied. “I want to touch her heart, and get her to weep if + possible.” + </p> + <p> + Her daughter’s fingers were again involved in the tangles of her beautiful + ringlets, and once more was the sweet but vacant smile returning to her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “May God relieve her and us,” said Maria; “the darling child is + relapsing!” + </p> + <p> + Agnes felt so utterly overcome, that she stooped, and throwing her arms + around her neck wept aloud, with her cheek laid to Jane’s. + </p> + <p> + Again the warmth of the tears upon the afflicted one’s face seemed to + soothe or awaken her. She looked up, and with a troubled face exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “I hope I am not!—Agnes, you are good, and never practised deceit,—am + I? am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you what, love? are you what, Jane, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I a cast-away? I thought I was. I believe I am—Agnes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear girl!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of my papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jane, should you be afraid of papa. Sure you know how he loves you—dotes + upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I practised deceit upon him. I dissembled to him. I sinned, + sinned deeply;—blackly, blackly. I shudder to think of it;” and she + shuddered while speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but Jane dear,” said her mother, soothingly, “can you not weep for + your fault. Tears of repentance can wipe out any crime. Weep, my child, + weep, and it will relieve your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to see my papa,” she replied. “I should be glad to hear that + he forgives me: how glad! how glad! That’s all that troubles your poor + Jane; all in the world that troubles her poor heart—I think.” + </p> + <p> + These words were uttered in a tone of such deep and inexpressible misery, + and with such an innocent and childlike unconsciousness of the calamity + which weighed her down that no heart possessing common humanity could + avoid being overcome. + </p> + <p> + “Look on me, love,” exclaimed her father. “Your papa is here, ready to + pity and forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “William,” said Agnes, “a thought strikes me,—the air that Charles + played when they first met has been her favorite ever since you know it—go + get your flute and play it with as much feeling as you can.” + </p> + <p> + Jane made no reply to her father’s words. She sat musing, and once or + twice put up her hand to her sidelocks, but immediately withdrew it, and + again fell into a reverie. Sometimes her face brightened into the fatal + smile, and again became overshadowed with a gloom that seemed to proceed + from a feeling of natural grief. Indeed the play of meaning and insanity, + as they chased each other over a countenance so beautiful, was an awful + sight, even to an indifferent beholder, much less to those who then stood + about her. + </p> + <p> + William in about a minute returned with his flute, and placing himself + behind her, commenced the air in a spirit more mournful probably than any + in which it had ever before been played. For a long time she noticed it + not: that is to say, she betrayed no external marks of attention to it. + They could perceive, however, that although she neither moved nor looked + around her, yet the awful play of her features ceased, and; their + expression became more intelligent and natural. At length she sighed + deeply several times, though without appearing to hear the music; and at + length, without uttering a word to any one of them, she laid her head I + upon her father’s bosom, and the tears fell; in placid torrents down her + cheeks. By a signal from his hand, Mr. Sinclair intimated that for the + present they should be silent; and by another addressed to William, that + he should play on. He did so, and she wept copiously under the influence + of that charmed melody for more than twenty minutes. + </p> + <p> + “It would be well for me,” she at length said, “that is, I fear it would, + that I had never heard that air, or seen him who first sent its melancholy + music to my heart. He is gone; but when—when will he return?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not take his departure so heavily, dear child,” said her father. “If + you were acquainted with life and the world you would know that a journey + to the Continent is nothing. Two years to one as young as you are will + soon pass.” + </p> + <p> + “It would, papa, if I loved him less. But my love for him—my love + for him—that now is my misery. I must, however, rely upon other + strength than my own. Papa, kneel down and pray for me,—and you, + mamma, and all of you; for I fear I am myself incapable of praying as I + used to do, with an un-divided heart.” + </p> + <p> + Her father knelt down, but knowing her weak state of mind, he made his + supplication as short and simple as might be consistent with the discharge + of a duty so solemn. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said she, when it was concluded, “will you, mamma, and Agnes, help + me to bed; I am very much exhausted, and my heart is sunk as if it were + never to beat lightly again. It may yet; I would hope it,—hope it if + I could.” + </p> + <p> + They allowed her her own way, and without any allusion whatsoever to + Charles, or his departure, more than she had made herself, they embraced + her; and in a few minutes she was in bed, and as was soon evident to + Agnes, who watched her, in a sound sleep. + </p> + <p> + Why is it that those who are dear to us are more tenderly dear to us while + asleep than while awake? It is indeed difficult to say but we know that + there are many in life and nature, especially in the and affections, which + we feel as distinct truths without being able to satisfy ourselves they + are so. This is one of them. What parent does not love the offspring more + glowingly while the features are composed in sleep? What young husband + does not feel his heart melt with a warmer emotion, on contemplating the + countenance of his youthful wife, when that countenance is overshadowed + with the placid but somewhat mournful beauty of repose? + </p> + <p> + When the family understood from Agnes that Jane had fallen into a slumber, + they stole up quietly, and standing about her, each looked upon her with a + long gaze of relief and satisfaction; for they knew that sleep would + repair the injury which the trial of that day had wrought upon a mind so + delicately framed as her’s. We question not but where there is beauty it + is still more beautiful in sleep. The passions are then at rest, and the + still harmony of the countenance unbroken by the jarring discords and + vexations of waking life; every feature then falls into its natural place, + and renders the symmetry of the face chaster, whilst its general + expression breathes more of that tender and pensive character, which + constitutes the highest order of beauty. + </p> + <p> + Jane’s countenance, in itself so exquisitely lovely, was now an object of + deep and melancholy interest. Upon it might be observed faint traces of + those contending emotions whose struggle had been on that day so nearly + fatal to her mind for ever. The smile left behind it a faint and dying + light, like the dim radiance of a spring evening when melting into dusk;—whilst + the secret dread of becoming a cast-away, and the still abiding + consciousness of having deceived her father, blended into the languid + serenity of her face a slight expression of the pain they had occasioned + her while awake. + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy girl! There she lay in her innocence and beauty like a summer + lake whose clear waters have settled into stillness after a recent storm; + reflecting, as they pass, the clouds now softened into milder forms, which + had but a little time before so deeply agitated them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no wonder,” said her father, “that the boy who loves her should say + he would not leave her, and that separation would break down the strength + of his heart and spirit. A fairer thing—a purer being never closed + her eyelids upon the cares and trials of life. Light may those caros be, + oh! beloved of our hearts; and refreshing the slumbers that are upon you; + and may the blessing and merciful providence of God guard and keep you + from evil! Amen! Amen!” + </p> + <p> + Maria on this occasion was deeply affected Jane’s arm lay outside the + coverlid, and her sister observed that her white and beautiful fingers + were affected from time to time with slight starting twitches, apparently + nervous. + </p> + <p> + This, contrasted with the stillness of her face, impressed the girl with + an apprehension that the young mourner, though asleep, was still suffering + pain; but when her father spoke and blessed her, she felt her heart + getting full, and bending over Jane she imprinted a kiss upon her cheek;—affectionate, + indeed, was that kiss, but timid and light as the full of the thistle-down + upon a leaf of the rose or the lily. When she withdrew her lips, a tear + was visible on the cheek of the sleeper—a circumstance which, slight + as it was, gave a character of inexpressible love and tenderness to the + act. They then quietly left her, with the excertion of Agnes, and all were + relieved and delighted at seeing her enjoy a slumber so sound and + refreshing. + </p> + <p> + The next morning they arose earlier than usual, in order to watch the mood + in which she might awake; and when Agnes, who had been her bed-fellow, + came down stairs, every eye was turned upon her with an anxiety + proportioned to the disastrous consequences that might result from any + unfavorable turn in her state of feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Agnes,” said her father, “how is she?—in what state?—in what + frame of mind?” + </p> + <p> + “She appears much distressed, papa—feels conscious that Charles is + gone—but as yet has made no allusion to their parting yesterday. + Indeed I do not think she remembers it. She is already up, and begged this + moment of me to leave her to herself for a little.” + </p> + <p> + “‘I want strength, Agnes,’ said she, ‘and I know there is but one source + from which I can obtain it. Advice, consolation, and sympathy, I may and + will receive here; but strength—strength is what I most stand in + need of, and that only can proceed from Him who gives rest to the heavy + laden.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You feel too deeply, Jane,’ I replied; ‘you should try to be firm.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I do try, Agnes; but tell me, have I not been unwell, very unwell?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Your feelings, dear Jane, overcame you yesterday, as was natural they + should—but now that you are calm, of course you will not yield to + despondency or melancholy. Your dejection, though at present deep, will + soon pass away, and ere many days you will be as cheerful as ever.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I hope so; but Charles is gone, is he not?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But you know it was necessary that he should travel for his health; + besides, have you not formed a plan of correspondence with each other?’ + </p> + <p> + “Then,” proceeded Agnes, “she pulled out the locket which contained his + hair, and after looking on it for about a minute, she kissed it, pressed + it to her heart, and whilst in the act of doing so a few tears ran down + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” observed her mother; “it is a sign that this heavy + grief will not long-abide upon her.” + </p> + <p> + “She then desired me,” continued Agnes, “to leave her, and expressed a + sense of her own weakness, and the necessity of spiritual support, as I + have already told you. I am sure the worst is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God, I trust it is,” said her father; “but whilst I live, I + will never demand from her such a proof of her obedience as that which I + imposed upon her yesterday. She will soon be down to breakfast, and we + must treat the dear girl kindly, and gently, and affectionately; tenderly, + tenderly must she be treated; and, children, much depends upon you—keep + her mind engaged. You have music—play more than you do—read + more—walk more—sing more. I myself will commence a short + course of lectures upon the duties and character of women, in the single + and married state of life; alternately with which I will also give you a + short course upon <i>Belles-Lettres</i>. If this engages and relieves her + mind, it will answer an important purpose; but at all events it will be + time well spent, and that is something.” + </p> + <p> + When Jane appeared at breakfast, she was paler than usual; but then the + expression of her countenance, though pensive, was natural. Mr. Sinclair + placed her between himself and her mother, and each kissed her in silence + ere she sat down. + </p> + <p> + “I have been very unwell yesterday,papa. I know I must have been; but I + have made my mind up to bear his absence with fortitude—not that it + is his mere absence which I feel so severely, but an impression that some + calamity is to occur either to him or me.” + </p> + <p> + “Impressions of that kind, my dear child, are the results of low spirits + and a nervous habit. You should not suffer your mind to be disturbed by + them; for, when it is weakened by suffering, they gather strength, and + sometimes become formidable.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no bearing my calamity, papa, as it ought to be borne, without + the grace of God, and you know we must pray to be made worthy of that. I + dare say that if I am resigned and submissive that my usual cheerfulness + will gradually return. I have confidence in heaven, papa, but none in my + own strength, or I should rather say in my own weakness. My attachment to + Charles resembles a disease more than a healthy and rational passion. I + know it is excessive, and I indeed think its excess is a disease. Yet it + is singular I do not fear my heart, papa, but I do my head; here is where + the danger lies—here—here;” and as she spoke, she applied her + hand to here forehead and gave a faint smile of melancholy apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Jane,” said her brother; “just wait for a week or ten days, and if + you don’t scold yourself for being now so childish, why never call me + brother again. Sure I understand these things like a philosopher. I have + been three times in love myself.” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked at him, and a faint sparkle of her usual good nature lit up + her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you,” he proceeded, addressing them—“look; why I’ll + soon have her as merry as a kid.” + </p> + <p> + “But who were you in love with, William,” asked Agnes. + </p> + <p> + “I was smitten first with Kate Sharp, the Applewoman, in consideration of + her charmin’ method of giving me credit for fruit when I was a school-boy, + and had no money. I thought her a very interesting woman, I assure you, + and preferred my suit to her With signal success. I say signal, for you + know she was then, as she is now, very hard of hearing, and I was forced + to pay my suit to her by signs.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear William,” said she, “I see your motive, and love you for it; but it + is too soon—my spirits are not yet in tone for mirth or pleasantry—but + they will be—they will be. I know it is too bad to permit an + affliction that is merely sentimental to bear me down in this manner; but + I cannot help it, and you must all only look on me as a weak, foolish + girl, and forgive me, and pity me. Mamma, I will lie down again, for I + feel I am not, well; and oh, papa, if you ever prayed with fervor and + sincerity, pray for strength to your own Jane, and happiness to her + stricken heart.” + </p> + <p> + She then retired, and for the remainder of that day confined herself + partly to her bed, and altogether to her chamber; and it was observed, + that from the innocent caprices of a sickly spirit, she called Agnes, and + her mother, and Maria—sometimes one, and sometimes another—and + had them always about her, each to hear a particular observation that + occurred to her, or to ask some simple question, of no importance to any + person except to one whose mind had become too sensitive upon the subject + which altogether engrossed it. Towards evening she had a long fit of + weeping, after which she appeared more calm and resigned. She made her + mother read her a chapter in the Bible, and expressed a resolution to bear + every thing she said as became one she hoped not yet beyond the reach of + Divine grace and Christian consolation. + </p> + <p> + After a second night’s sleep she arose considerably relieved from the + gloomy grief which had nearly wrought such a dreadful change in her + intellect. Her father’s plan of imperceptibly engaging her attention by + instruction and amusement was carried into effect by him and her sisters, + with such singular success, that at the lapse of a month she was almost + restored to her wonted spirits. We say almost, because it was observed + that, notwithstanding her apparent serenity, she never afterwards reached + the same degree of cheerfulness, nor so richly exhibited in her complexion + that purple glow, the hue of which lies like a visible charm upon the I + cheek of youthful beauty. + </p> + <p> + Time, however, is the best philosopher, and our heroine found that ere + many weeks she could, with the exception of slight intervals, look back + upon the day of separation from Osborne, and forward to the expectation of + his return, with a calmness of spirit by no means unpleasing to one who + had placed such unlimited confidence in his affection. His first letter + soothed, relieved, transported her. Indeed, so completely was she overcome + on receiving it, that the moment it was placed in her hands, her eyes + seemed to have been changed into light, her limbs trembled with the + agitation of a happiness so intense; and she at length sank into an + ecstacy of joy, which was only relieved by a copious flood of tears. + </p> + <p> + For two years after this their correspondence was as regular as the + uncertain motions of a tourist could permit it. Jane appeared to be happy, + and she was so within the limits of an enjoyment, narrowed in its + character by the contingency arising from time and distance, and the other + probabilities of disappointment which a timid heart and a pensive fancy + will too often shape into certainty. Fits of musing and melancholy she + often had without any apparent cause, and when gently taken to task, or + remonstrated with concerning them, she had only replied by weeping, or + admitted that she could by no means account for her depression, except by + saying that she believed it to be a defect in the habit and temper of her + mind. + </p> + <p> + His tutor’s letters, both to Charles’s father and hers, were nearly as + welcome to Jane as his own. He, in fact, could say that for his pupil, + which his pupil’s modesty would not permit him to say for himself. Oh! how + her heart glowed, and conscious pride sparkled in her eye, when that + worthy man described, the character of manly beauty which time and travel + had gradually given to his person! And when his progress in knowledge and + accomplishments, and the development of his taste and judgment became the + theme of his tutor’s panegyric, she could not listen without betraying the + vehement enthusiasm of a passion, which absence and time had only + strengthened in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + These letters induced a series of sensations at once novel and delightful, + and such as were calculated to give zest to an attachment thus left, to + support itself, not from the presence of its object, but from the memory + of tenderness that had already gone by. She knew Charles Osborne only as a + boy—a beautiful boy it is true—and he knew her only as a + graceful creature, whose extremely youthful appearance made it difficult + whether to consider her merely as an advanced girl, or as a young female + who had just passed into the first stage of womanhood. But now her fancy + and affection had both room to indulge in that vivacious play which + delights to paint a lover absent under such circumstances in the richest + hues of imaginary beauty. + </p> + <p> + “How will he look,” she would say to her sister Agnes, “when he returns a + young man, settled into the fulness of his growth? Taller he will be, and + much more manly in his deportment. But is there no danger, Agnes, of his + losing in grace, in delicacy of complexion, in short, of losing in beauty + what he may gain otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, not in the least; you will be ten times prouder of him after + his return than you ever were. There is something much more noble and + dignified in the love of a man than in that of a boy, and you will feel + this on seeing him.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, Agnes, I shall have to fall in love with him over again, + and to fall in love with the same individual twice, will certainly be + rather a novel case—a double passion, at least, you will grant, + Agnes.” + </p> + <p> + “But he will experience sensations quite as singular on seeing you, when + he returns. You are as much changed—improved I mean—in your + person, as he can be for his life. If he is now a fine, full-grown young + man, you are a tall, elegant—I don’t, want to flatter you, Jane,—I + need not say graceful, for that you always were, but I may add with truth, + a majestic young woman. Why, you will scarcely know each other.” + </p> + <p> + “You do flatter me, Agnes; but am I so much improved?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you are quite a different girl from what you were when he saw + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it; but as I told him once, it is on his account that I am + so glad; do you know, Agnes, I never was vain of my beauty until I saw + Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever feel proud in being beautiful in the eyes of another, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I never did—why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is not vanity—it is only love visible in a different + aspect, and not the least amiable either, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should be much more melancholy than I am, were not my fancy so + often engaged in picturing to myself the change which may be on him when + he returns. The feeling it occasions is novel and agreeable, sometimes, + indeed, delightful, and so far sustains me when I am inclined to be + gloomy. But believe me, Agnes, I could love Charles Osborne even if he + were not handsome. I could love him for his mind, his principles, and + especially for his faithful and constant heart.” + </p> + <p> + “And for all these he would deserve your love; but you remember what you + told me once: it seems he has not yet seen a girl that he thinks more + handsome than you are. Did you not mention to me that he said when he did, + he would cease to write to you and cease to love you? You see he is + constant.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but did I not tell you the sense in which he meant it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and now you throw a glance at yourself in the glass! Oh Jane, Jane, + the best of us and the freest from imperfection is not without a little + pride and vanity; but don’t be too confident, my saucy beauty; consider + that you complained to William yesterday, about the unusual length of time + that has elapsed since you received his last letter, and yet he could, + write to his fa—— What, what, dear girl, what’s the matter? + you are as pale as death.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, Agnes, I never think of that but my heart and spirits sink. It + has been one of the secret causes of my occasional depressions ever since + he went. I cannot tell why, but from the moment the words were spoken, I + have not been without a presentiment of evil.” + </p> + <p> + “Even upon your own showing, Jane, that is an idle and groundless + impression, and unworthy the affection which you know, and which we all + know he bears you; dismiss it, dear Jane, dismiss it, and do not give + yourself the habit of creating imaginary evils.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I am prone to such a habit, and am probably too much of a + visionary for my own happiness; but setting that gloomy presentiment + aside, have you not, Agnes, been struck with several hints in his letters, + both to me and his father, unfavorable to the state of his health.” + </p> + <p> + “That you will allow, could not be very ill, when he was able to continue + his travels.” + </p> + <p> + “True, but according to his own admission his arrangements were frequently + broken up, by the fact of his being ‘unwell,’ and ‘not in a condition to + travel,’ and so did not reach the places in time to which he had requested + me to direct many of my letters. I fear, Agnes, that his health has not + been so much improved by the air of the continent as we hoped it would.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only to say this, Jane, that if he does not appreciate your + affection as he ought to do, then God forgive him. He will be guilty of a + crime against the purest attachment of the best of hearts, as well as + against truth and honor. I hope he may be worthy of you, and I am sure he + will. He is now in Bath, however, and will soon be with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am divided, Agnes, by two principles—if they may be called such—or + if you will, by two moods of mind, or states of feeling; one of them is + faith and trust in his affection—how can I doubt it?—the other + is malady, I believe, a gloom, an occasional despondency for which I + cannot account, and which I am not able to shake off. My faith and trust, + however, will last, and his return will dispel the other.” + </p> + <p> + This, in fact, was the true state of the faithful girl’s heart. From the + moment Osborne went to travel, her affection, though full of the tenderest + enthusiasm, lay under the deep shadow of that gloom, which was occasioned + by the first, and we may say the only act of insincerity she was ever + guilty of towards her father. The reader knows that even this act was not + a deliberate one, but merely the hurried evasion of a young and bashful + girl, who, had her sense of moral delicacy been less acute, might have + never bestowed a moment’s subsequent consideration upon it. Let our fair + young readers, however, be warned even by this very slight deviation from + truth, and let them also remember that one act of dissimulation may, in + the little world of their own moral sentiments and affections, lay the + foundation for calamities under which their hopes and their happiness in + consequence of that act may absolutely perish. Still are we bound to say + that Jane’s deportment during the period, stipulated upon for Osborne’s + absence was admirably decorous, and replete with moral beauty. Her moments + of enjoyment derived from his letters, were fraught with an innocent + simplicity of delight in fine keeping with a heart so fall of youthful + fervor and attachment. And when her imagination became occasionally + darkened by that gloom which she termed her malady, nothing could be more + impressive than the tone of deep and touching piety which mingled with and + elevated her melancholy into a cheerful solemnity of spirit, that swayed + by its pensive dignity the habits and affections of her whole family. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tis true she was one of a class rarely to be found amoung even the + highest of her own sex, and her attachment was consequently that of a + heart utterly incapable of loving twice. Her first affection was too + steadfast and decisive ever to be changed, and at the same time too full + and unreserved to maintain the materials for a second passion. The + impression she received was too deep ever to be erased. She might weep—she + might mourn—she might sink—her soul might be bowed down to the + dust—her heart might break—she might die—but she never, + never, could love again. That heart was his palace, where the monarch of + her affections reigned—but remove his throne, and it became the + sepulchre of her own hopes—the ruin, haunted by the moping brood of + her own sorrows. Often, indeed, did her family wonder at the freshness of + memory manifested in the character of her love for Osborne. There was + nothing transient, nothing forgotten, nothing perishable in her devotion + to him. In truth, it had something of divinity in it. Every thing past, + and much also of the future was present to her. Osborne breathed and lived + at the expiration of two years, just as he had done the day before he set + out on his travels. In her heart he existed as an undying principle, and + the duration of her love for him seemed likely to be limited only by those + laws of nature, which, in the course of time, carry the heart beyond the + memory of all human affections. + </p> + <p> + It would, indeed, be almost impossible to see a creature so lovely and + angelic as was our heroine, about the period when Osborne was expected to + return. Retaining all the graceful elasticity of motion that characterized + her when first introduced to our readers, she was now taller and more + majestic in her person, rounder and with more symmetry in her figure, and + also more conspicuous for the singular ease and harmony of her general + deportment. Her hair, too, now grown to greater luxuriance, had become + several shades deeper, and, of course, was much more rich than when + Charles saw it last. But if there was any thing that, more than another, + gave an expression of tenderness to her beauty, it was the under-tone of + color—the slightly perceptible paleness which marked her complexion + as that of a person whose heart though young had already been made + acquainted with some early sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Had her lover then seen her, and witnessed the growth of charms that had + taken place during his absence, he and she might both, alas, have + experienced another and a kinder destiny. + </p> + <p> + The time at length arrived when Charles, as had been settled upon by both + their parents, was expected to return. During the three months previous he + had been at Bath, accompanied of course by his friend and tutor. Up until + a short time previous to his arrival there, his communications to his + parents and to Jane were not only punctual and regular, but remarkable for + the earnest spirit of dutiful affection and fervid attachment which they + breathed to both. It is true that his father had, during the whole period + of his absence, been cognizant of that which the vigilance of Jane’s love + for him only suspected—I allude to the state of his health, which it + seems occasionally betrayed symptoms of his hereditary complaint. + </p> + <p> + This gave Mr. Osborne deep concern, for he had hoped that so long a + residence in more genial climates would have gradually removed from his + son’s constitution that tendency to decline which was so much dreaded by + them all. Still he was gratified to hear, that with the exception of those + slight recurrences, the boy grew fast and otherwise with a healthy energy + into manhood. The principles he had set out with were unimpaired by the + influence of continental profligacy. His mind was enlarged, his knowledge + greatly extended, and his taste and manners polished to a degree so + unusual, that he soon became the ornament of every circle in which he + moved. His talents, now ripe and cultivated, were not only of a high, but + also of a striking and brilliant character—much too commanding and + powerful, as every one said, to be permitted to sink into the obscurity of + private life. + </p> + <p> + This language was not without its due impression on young Osborne’s mind; + for his tutor could observe that soon after his return to England he began + to have fits of musing, and was often abstracted, if not absolutely + gloomy. He could also perceive a disinclination to write home, for which + he felt it impossible to account. At first he attributed this to ill + health, or to those natural depressions which frequently precede or + accompany it; but at length on seeing his habitual absences increase, he + inquired in a tone of friendly sympathy, too sincere to be doubted, why it + was that a change so unusual had become so remarkably visible in his + spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I knew not,” replied Osborne, “that it was so; I myself have not observed + what you speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “Your manner, indeed, is much changed,” said his friend; “you appear to + me, and I dare say to others, very like a man whose mind is engaged upon + the consideration of some subject that is deeply painful to him, and of + which he knows not how to dispose. If it be so, my dear Osborne, command + my advice, my sympathy, my friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, my dear friend, I was perfectly unconscious of this. But + that I <i>have</i> for some time past been thinking—more seriously + than usual of the position in society which I ought to select, I grant + you. You are pleased to flatter me with the possession of talents that you + say might enable any man to reach a commanding station in public life. + Now, for what purpose are talents given? or am I justified in sinking away + into obscurity when I might create my own fortune, perhaps my own rank, by + rendering some of the noblest services to my country. That wish to leave + behind one a name that cannot die, is indeed a splendid ambition!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” replied the other, “that you had already embraced views of a + different character, entered into by your father to promote your-own + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Osborne started, blushed, and for more than half a minute returned no + answer. “True,” said he at last, “true, I had forgotten that.” + </p> + <p> + His tutor immediately perceived that an ambition not unnatural, indeed, to + a young man possessing such fine talents, had strongly seized upon his + heart, and knowing as he did his attachment to Jane, he would have advised + his immediate return home, had it not been already determined on, in + consequence of medical advice, that he himself should visit Bath for the + benefit of his health, and his pupil could by no arguments be dissuaded + from accompanying him. + </p> + <p> + This brief view of Osborne’s intentions, at the close of the period agreed + on for his return, was necessary to explain an observation made by Agnes + in the last dialogue which we have given between herself and her younger + sister. We allude to the complaint which she playfully charged Jane with + having made to her brother concerning the length of time which had elapsed + since she last heard from her lover. The truth is, that with the exception + of Jane herself, both families were even then deeply troubled in + consequence of a letter directed by Charles’s tutor to Mr. Osborne. That + letter was the last which the amiable gentleman ever wrote, for he had not + been in Bath above a week when he sank suddenly under a disease of the + heart, to which he had for some years been subject. His death, which + distressed young Osborne very much, enabled him, however, to plead the + necessity of attending to his friend’s obsequies, in reply to his father’s + call on him to return to his family. The next letter stated that he would + not lose a moment in complying with his wishes, as no motive existed to + detain him from home, and the third expressed the uncommon benefit which + he had, during his brief residence there, experienced from the use of the + waters. Against this last argument the father had nothing to urge. His + son’s health was to him a consideration paramount to every other, and when + he found himself improved either by the air or waters of Bath, he should + not hurry his return as he had intended. “Only write to your friends,” + said he, “they are as anxious for the perfect establishment of your health + as I am.” + </p> + <p> + This latter correspondence between Mr. Osborne and his son, was submitted + to Mr. Sinclair, that it might be mentioned to serve as an apology for + Charles’s delay in replying to her last letter. This step was suggested by + Mr. Sinclair himself, who dreaded the consequences which any appearance of + neglect might have upon a heart so liable to droop as that of his gentle + daughter. Jane, who was easily depressed, but not suspicious, smiled at + the simplicity of her papa, as she said, in deeming it necessary to make + any apology for Charles Osborne’s not writing to her by return of post. + </p> + <p> + “It will be time enough,” she added, “when his letters get cool, and come + but seldom, to make excuses for him. Surely, my dear papa, if any one + blamed him, I myself would be, and ought to be the first to defend him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” observed William, “you could complain to me about his letting a + letter of yours stand over a fortnight before he answered it. Jane—Jane—there’s + no knowing you girls; particularly when you’re in love; but, indeed, then + you don’t know yourselves, so how should we?” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa,” she added, looking earnestly upon him; “it is rather strange + that you are so anxious to apologize for Charles. I cannot question my + papa, and I shall not; but yet upon second thoughts, it is very strange.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my love, but I would not have you a day uneasy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she replied, musing—but with a keen eye bent alternately + upon him and William; “it is a simple case, I myself have a very ready + solution for his want of punctuality, if it can be called such, or if it + continue such.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray what is it, Jane,” asked William. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, dear William—if I told you it might reach him, and then + he might shape his conduct to meet it—I may mention it some day, + though; but I hope there will never be occasion. Papa, don’t you ask me, + because if you do, I shall feel it my duty to tell you; and I would rather + not, sir, except you press me. But why after all should I make a secret of + it. It is, papa, the test of all things, as well as of Charles’s + punctuality—for, of his affection I will never doubt. It is time—time; + but indeed I wish you had not spoken to me about it; I was not uneasy.” + </p> + <p> + The poor girl judged Osborne through a misapprehension which, had she + known more I of life, or even reflected upon his neglect in writing to + her, would have probably caused her to contemplate his conduct in a + different light. She thought because his letters were nearly as frequent + since his return to England, as they had been during his tour on the + continent, that the test of his respect and attachment was sustained. In + fact, she was ignorant that he had written several letters of late to his + own family, without having addressed to her a single line; or even + mentioned her name, and this circumstance was known to them all, with the + exception of herself, as was the tutor’s previous letter, of which she had + never heard. + </p> + <p> + It was no wonder, therefore, that her father, who was acquainted with + this, and entertained such serious apprehensions for his daughter’s state + of mind, should feel anxious, that until Osborne’s conduct were better + understood, no doubt of his sincerity should reach the confiding girl’s + heart. The old man, however, unconsciously acted upon his own impressions + rather than on Jane’s knowledge of what had occurred. In truth, he forgot + that the actual state of the matter was unknown to her, and the + consequence was, that in attempting to efface an impression that did not + exist, he alarmed her suspicion by his mysterious earnestness of manner, + and thereby created the very uneasiness he wished to remove. + </p> + <p> + From this day forward, Jane’s eye became studiously vigilant of the looks + and motions of the family. Her melancholy returned, but I it was softer + and serener than it had ever been before; so did the mild but pensive + spirit of devotion which had uniformly accompanied it. The sweetness of + her manner was irresistible, if not affecting, for there breathed through + the composure of her countenance an air of mingled sorrow and patience, so + finely blended, that it was difficult to determine, on looking at her, + whether she secretly rejoiced or mourned. + </p> + <p> + A few days more brought another letter from Osborne to his father, which + contained a proposal for which the latter, in consequence of the tutor’s + letter, was not altogether unprepared. It was a case put to the father for + the purpose of ascertaining whether, if he, Charles, were offered an + opportunity of appearing in public life, he would recommend him to accept + it. He did not say that such an opening had really presented itself, but + he strongly urged his father’s permission to embrace it if it should. + </p> + <p> + This communication was immediately laid before Mr. Sinclair, who advised + his friend, ere he took any other step, or hazarded an opinion upon it, to + require from Charles an explicit statement of the motives which induced + him to solicit such a sanction. “Until we know what he means,” said he, + “it is impossible for us to know how to advise him. That he has some + ambitious project in view, is certain. Mr. Harvey’s (his tutor) letter and + this both prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “But in the meantime, we must endeavor to put such silly projects out of + his head, my dear friend. I am more troubled about that sweet girl than + about any thing else. I cannot understand his neglect of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Few, indeed, are worthy of that angel,” replied her father, sighing; “I + hope he may. If Charles, after what has passed, sports with her happiness, + he will one day have a fearful reckoning of it, unless he permits his + conscience to become altogether seared.” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot, happen,” replied the other; “I know my boy, his heart is + noble; no, no, he is incapable of dishonor, much less of perfidy so black + as that would be. In my next letter, however, I shall call upon him to + explain himself upon that subject, as well as the other, and if he replies + by an evasion, I shall instantly command him home.” + </p> + <p> + They then separated, with a feeling of deep but fatherly concern, one + anxious for the honor of his son, and the other trembling for the + happiness of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair was a man in whose countenance could be read all the various + emotions that either exalted or disturbed his heart. If he felt joy his + eye became irradiated with benignant lustre, that spoke at once of + happiness; and, when depressed by care or sorrow, it was easy to see by + the serious composure of his face, that something troubled or disturbed + him. Indeed, this candor of countenance is peculiar to those only who have + not schooled their faces into hypocrisy. After his return from the last + interview with Mr. Osborne, his family perceived at a glance that + something more than usually painful lay upon his mind; and such was the + affectionate sympathy by which they caught each other’s feelings, that + every countenance, save! one, became partially overshadowed. Jane, + although her eye was the first and quickest! to notice this anxiety of her + father, exhibited no visible proof of a penetration so acute and lively. + The serene light that beamed so mournfully from her placid but melancholy + brow, was not darkened by what she saw; on the contrary, that brow became, + if possible, more serene; for in truth, the gentle enthusiast had already + formed a settled plan of exalted resignation that was designed to sustain + her under an apprehension far different from that which Osborne’s + ambitious speculations in life would have occasioned her to feel had she + known them. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said she with a smile, “that my papa has no good news to tell. A + letter has come to his father, but none to me; but you need not fear for + my firmness, papa. I know from whence to expect support; indeed, from the + beginning I knew that I would require it. You often affectionately chid me + for entertaining apprehensions too gloomy; but now they are not gloomy, + because, if what I surmise be true, Charles and I will not be so long + separated as you imagine. The hope of this, papa, is my consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you surmise, my love, asked her father. + </p> + <p> + “That Charles is gone, perhaps irretrievably gone in decline; you know it + is the hereditary complaint of his family. What else could, or would—yes, + papa, or ought to keep him so long from home—from his friends—from + me. Yes, indeed,” she added with a smile, “from me, papa—from his + own Jane Sinclair, and he so near us, in England, and the time determined + on for his return expired.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know, Jane,” said her father, gratified to find that her + suspicion took a wrong direction, “the air of Bath, he writes, is agreeing + with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it may, papa; I hope it may; but you may rest assured, that + whatever happens, the lesson you have taught me, will, aided by divine + support, sustain my soul, so long as the frail tenement in which it is + lodged may last. That will not be long.” + </p> + <p> + “True religion, my love, is always cheerful, and loves to contemplate the + brighter side of every human event. I do not like to see my dear child so + calm, nor her countenance shaded by melancholy so fixed as that I have + witnessed on it of late.” + </p> + <p> + “Eternity, papa—a happy eternity, what is it, but the brighter side + of human life—here we see only as in a glass darkly; there, in our + final destiny, we reach the fulness of our happiness. I am not melancholy, + but resigned; and resignation has a peace peculiar to itself; a repose + which draws us gently, for a little time, out of the memory of our + sorrows; but without refreshing the heart—without refreshing the + heart. No, papa, I am not melancholy—I am not melancholy; I could + bear Charles’s death, and look up to my God for strength and support under + it; but,” she added, shaking her head, with a smile marked by something of + a wild meaning, “if he could forget me for another,—no I will not + say for another, but if he could only forget me, and his vows of undying + affection, then indeed—then—then—papa—ha!—no—no—he + could not—he could not.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation, when repeated to the family, deeply distressed them, + involved in doubt and uncertainty as they were with respect to Osborne’s + ultimate intentions. Until a reply, however, should be received to his + father’s letter, which was written expressly to demand an explanation on + that point, they could only soothe the unhappy girl in the patient sorrow + which they saw gathering in her heart. That, however, which alarmed them + most, was her insuperable disrelish to any thing in the shape of + consolation or sympathy. This, to them, was indeed a new trait in the + character of one who had heretofore been so anxious to repose the weight + of her sufferings upon the bosoms of those who loved her. Her chief + companion now was Ariel, her dove, to which she was seen to address + herself with a calm, smiling aspect, not dissimilar to the languid + cheerfulness of an invalid, who might be supposed as yet incapable from + physical weakness to indulge in a greater display of animal spirits. Her + walks, too, were now all solitary, with the exception of her mute + companion, and it was observed that she never, in a single instance, was + known to traverse any spot over which she and Osborne had not walked + together. Here she would linger, and pause, and muse, and address Ariel, + as if the beautiful creature were capable of comprehending the tenor of + her language. + </p> + <p> + “Ariel,” said she one day, speaking to the bird; “there is the yew tree, + under which your preserver and I first disclosed our love. The yew tree, + sweet bird, is the emblem of death, and so it will happen; for Charles is + dying, I know—I feel that he will die; and I will die, early; we + will both die early; for I would not be able to live here after him, + Ariel, and how could I? Yet I should like to see him once—once + before he dies; to see him, Ariel, in the fulness of his beauty; my eye to + rest upon him once more; and then I could die smiling.” + </p> + <p> + She then sat down under the tree, and in a voice replete with exquisite + pathos and melody sang the plaintive air which Osborne had played on the + evening when the first rapturous declaration of their passion was made. + This incident with the bird also occurred much about the same hour of the + day, a remembrance which an association, uniformly painful to her moral + sense, now revived with peculiar power, for she started and became pale. + “My sweet bird,” she exclaimed, “what is this; I shall be absent from + evening worship again—but I will not prevaricate now; why—why + is this spot to be fatal to me? Come, Ariel, come: perhaps I may not be + late.” + </p> + <p> + She hastened home with a palpitating heart, and unhappily arrived only in + time to find the family rising from prayer. + </p> + <p> + As she stood and looked upon them, she smiled, but a sudden paleness at + the same instant overspread her face, which gave to her smile an + expression we are utterly incompetent to describe. + </p> + <p> + “I am late,” she exclaimed, “and have neglected a solemn and a necessary + duty. To me, to me, papa, how necessary is that duty.” + </p> + <p> + “It is equally so to us all, my child,” replied her father; “but,” he + added, in order to reconcile her to an omission which had occasioned her + to suffer so much pain before, “we did not forget to pray for you, Jane. + With respect to your absence, we know it was unintentional. Your mind is + troubled, my love, and do not, let me beg of you, dwell upon minor points + of that kind, so as to interrupt the singleness of heart with which you + ought to address God. You know, darling, you can pray in your own room.” + </p> + <p> + She mused for some minutes, and at length said, “I would be glad to + preserve that singleness of heart, but I fear I will not be able to do so + long.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would stay more with us, darling,” observed her mamma, “and talk + and chat more with Maria and Agnes, as you used to do, you would find your + spirits improved. You are not so cheerful as we would wish to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I ought to do that, mamma; indeed I know I ought, because you + wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “We all wish it,” said Agnes, “Jane dear, why keep aloof from us? Who in + the world loves you as we do; and why would you not, as you used to do, + allow us to cheer you, to support you, or to mourn and weep with you; + anything—anything,” said the admirable girl, “rather than keep your + heart from ours;” and as she spoke, the tears fell fast down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Agnes,” said Jane, putting her arm about her sister’s neck, and + looking up mournfully into her face; “I cannot weep for myself—I + cannot weep even with you; you know I love you—how I love you—oh, + how I love you all; but I cannot tell why it is—society, even the + society of them I love best, disturbs me, and you know not the pleasure—melancholy + I grant it to be, but you know not the pleasure that comes to me from + solitude. To me—to me there is a charm in it ten times more soothing + to my heart than all the power of human consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “But why so melancholy at all, Jane,” said Maria, “surely there is no just + cause for it.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled as she replied, “Why am I melancholy, Maria?—why? why + should I not? Do I not read the approaching death of Charles Osborne in + the gloom of every countenance about me? Why do you whisper to each other + that which you will not let me hear? Why is there a secret and anxious, + and a mysterious intercourse between this family and his, of the purport + of which I am kept ignorant—and I alone?” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose Charles Osborne is not sick,” said William; “suppose he was + never in better health than he is at this moment—” he saw his + father’s hand raised, and paused, then added, carelessly, “for + supposition’s sake I say merely.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not suppose that, William,” she replied, starting, “unless + you wish to blight your sister. On what an alternative then, would you + force a breaking heart. If not sick, if not dying, where is he? I require + him—I demand him. My heart,” she proceeded, rising up and speaking + with vehemence—“my heart calls for him—shouts aloud in its + agony—shouts aloud—shouts aloud for him. He is, he is sick; + the malady of his family is upon him; he is ill—he is dying; it must + be so; ay, and it shall be so; I can bear that, I can bear him to die, but + never to become faithless to a heart like mine. But I am foolish,” she + added, after a pause, occasioned by exhaustion; “Oh, my dear William, why, + by idle talk, thus tamper with your poor affectionate sister’s happiness? + I know you meant no harm, but oh, William, William, do it no more.” + </p> + <p> + “I only put it, dear Jane, I only put it as a mere case,”—the young + man was evidently cut to the heart, and could not for some moments speak. + </p> + <p> + She saw his distress, and going over to him, took his hand and. said, + “Don’t, William, don’t; it is nothing but merely one of your good-humored + attempts to make your sister cheerful. There,” she added, kissing his + cheek; “there is a kiss for you; the kiss of peace let it be, and + forgiveness; but I have nothing to forgive you for, except too much + affection for an unhappy sister, who, I believe, is likely to be + troublesome enough to you all; but, perhaps not long—not long.” + </p> + <p> + There were few dry eyes in the room, as she uttered the last words. + </p> + <p> + “I do not like to see you weep,” she added, “when I could have wept + myself, and partaken of your tears, it was rather a relief to me than + otherwise. It seems, however, that my weeping days are past; do not, oh do + not—you trouble me, and I want to compose my mind for a performance + of the solemn act which I have this evening neglected. Mamma, kiss me, and + pray for me; I love you well and tenderly, mamma; I am sure you know I + do.” + </p> + <p> + The sorrowing mother caught her to her bosom, and, after kissing her + passive lips, burst out into a sobbing fit of grief. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my daughter, my daughter,” she exclaimed, still clasping her to her + heart, “and is it come to this! Oh, that we had never seen him!” + </p> + <p> + “This, my dear,” said Mr. Sinclair to his wife, “is wrong; indeed, it is + weakness; you know she wants to compose her mind for prayer.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, papa; they must be more firm; I need to pray. I know my frailties, + you know them too, sir; I concealed them from you as long as I could, but + their burden was too heavy for my heart; bless me now, before I go; I will + kneel.” + </p> + <p> + The sweet girl knelt beside him, and he placed his hand upon her stooping + head, and blessed her. She then raised herself, and looking up to him with + a singular expression of wild sweetness beaming in her eyes, she said, + leaning her head again upon his breast, + </p> + <p> + “There are two bosoms, on which, I trust, I and my frailties can repose + with hope; I know I shall soon pass from the one to the other— + </p> + <p> + “The bosom of my <i>father</i> and my <i>God</i>, will not they be sweet, + papa?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke thus with a smile of such unutterable sweetness, her beautiful + eyes gazing innocently up into her father’s countenance, that the heart of + the old man was shaken through every fibre. He saw, however, what must be + encountered, and was resolved to act a part worthy of the religion he + professed. He arose, and taking her hand in his, said, “You wish to pray, + dearest love; that is right; your head has been upon my bosom, and I + blessed you; go now, and, with a fervent heart, address yourself to the + throne of grace; in doing this, my sweet child, piously and earnestly, you + will pass from my bosom to the bosom of your God. Cast yourself upon Him, + my love; above all things, cast yourself with humble hope and earnest + supplication upon His. This, my child, indeed is sweet; and you will find + it so; come, darling, come.” + </p> + <p> + He led her out of the room, and after a few words more of affectionate + advice, left her to that solitude for which he hoped the frame of mind in + which she then appeared was suitable. + </p> + <p> + “Her sense of religion,” he said, after returning to the family, “is not + only delicate, but deep; her piety is fervent and profound. I do not + therefore despair but religion will carry her through whatever + disappointment Charles’s flighty enthusiasm may occasion her.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, papa,” said Agnes, “I could think so. As she herself said, she + might bear his death, for that would involve no act of treachery, of + falsehood on his part; but to find that he is capable of forgetting their + betrothed vows, sanctioned as they were by the parents of both—indeed, + papa, if such a thing happen——” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it will not,” observed her mother; “Charles has, as you + have just said, enthusiasm; now, will not that give an impulse to his + love, as well as to his ambition?” + </p> + <p> + “But if ambition, my dear, has become the predominant principle in his + character, it will draw to its own support all that nourished his other + passions. Love is never strong where ambition exists—nor ambition + where there is love.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot entertain the thought of Charles Osborne being false to her,” + said Maria; “his passion for her was more like idolatry than love.” + </p> + <p> + “He is neglecting her, though,” said William; “and did she not suppose + that that is caused by illness, I fear she would not bear it even as she + does.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, William,” observed Agnes; “but after all, it is better + to have patience until Mr. Osborne hears from him. His reply will surely + be decisive as to his intentions. All may end better than we think.” + </p> + <p> + Until this reply should arrive, however, they were compelled to remain in + that state of suspense which is frequently more painful than the certainty + of evil itself. Jane’s mind and health were tended with all the care and + affection which her disinclination to society would permit them to show. + They forced themselves to be cheerful in order that she might + unconsciously partake of a spirit less gloomy than that which every day + darkened more deeply about her path; Any attempt to give her direct + consolation, however, was found to produce the very consequences which + they wished so anxiously to prevent. If for this purpose they entered into + conversation with her, no matter in what tone of affectionate sweetness + they addressed her, such was the irresistible pathos of her language, that + their hearts became melted, and, instead of being able to comfort the + beloved mourner, they absolutely required sympathy themselves. Since their + last dialogue, too, it was evident from her manner that some fresh source + of pain had been on that occasion opened in her heart. For nearly a Week + afterwards her eye was fixed from time to time upon her brother William, + with a long gaze of hesitation and enquiry—not unmingled with a + character of suspicion that appeared still further, to sink her spirits by + a superadded weight of misery. + </p> + <p> + Nearly a fortnight had now elapsed since Charles Osborne ought to have + received his father’s letter, and yet no communication had reached either + of the families. Indeed the gradual falling off of his correspondence with + Jane, and the commonplace character of his few last letters left little + room to hope that his affection for her stood the severe test of time and + absence. One morning about this period she brought William into the + garden, and after a turn or too, laid her hand, gently upon his arm, + saying, + </p> + <p> + “William, I have a secret to entrust you with.” + </p> + <p> + “A secret, Jane—well, I will keep it honorably—what is it, + dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely that’s no secret to me, my pool girl.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; that’s not it; but this is—I strongly suspect that you all + know more about Charles than I do.” + </p> + <p> + She fixed her eyes with an earnest penetration on him as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “He is expected home soon, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not ill, William; and you have all permitted me to deceive myself + into a belief that he is; because you felt that I would rather ten + thousand times that he were dead than false—than false.” + </p> + <p> + “He could not, he dare not be false to you, my dear, after having been + solemnly betrothed to you, I may say with the consent of your father and + his.” + </p> + <p> + “Dare not—ha—there is meaning in that, William; your + complexion is heightened, too; and so I have found out your secret, my + brother. Sunk as is my heart, you see I have greater penetration than you + dream of. So he is not sick, but false; and his love for me is gone like a + dream. Well, well; but yet I have laid down my own plan of resignation. + You would not guess what it is? Come, guess; I will hear nothing further + till you guess.” + </p> + <p> + He thought it was better to humor her, and replied in accordance with the + hope of I his father. + </p> + <p> + “Religion, my dear Jane, and reliance on God.” + </p> + <p> + “That was my first plan; that was my plan in case the malady I suspected + had taken him from me—but what is my plan for his falsehood?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot guess, dear Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “Death, William. What consoler like death? what peace so calm as that of + the grave? Let the storm of life howl ever so loudly, go but six inches + beneath the clay of the church-yard and how still is all there!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Jane, you distress yourself without cause; never trust me again + if Charles will not soon come home, and you and he be happy. Why, my dear + Jane, I thought you had more fortitude than to sink under a calamity that + has not yet reached you. Surely it will be time enough when you find that + Charles is false to take it so much to heart as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a good and excellent advice, my dear William; but listen, and I + will give a far better one: never deceive your father; never prevaricate + with papa, and then you may rest satisfied that your heart will not be + crushed by such a calamity as that which has fallen upon me. I deceived + papa; and I am now the poor hopeless cast-away that you see me. Remember + that advice, William—keep it, and God will bless you.” + </p> + <p> + William would have remonstrated with her at greater length, but he saw + that she was resolved to have no further conversation on the subject. When + it was closed she walked slowly and composedly out of the garden, and + immediately took her way to those favorite places among which she was + latterly in the habit of wandering. One of her expressions, however, sunk + upon his affectionate heart too deeply to permit him to rest under the + fearful apprehension which it generated. After musing for a little he + followed her with a pale face and a tearful eye, resolved to draw from + her, with as much tenderness as possible, the exact meaning which, in her + allusion to Osborne’s falsehood, she had applied to death. + </p> + <p> + He found her sitting upon the bank of the river which we have already + described, and exactly opposite to the precise spot in the stream from + which Osborne had rescued Ariel. The bird sat on her shoulder, and he saw + by her gesture that she was engaged in an earnest address to it. He came + on gently behind her, actuated by that kind curiosity which knows that in + such unguarded moments a key may possibly be obtained to the abrupt and + capricious impulse by which persons laboring under impressions so variable + may be managed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/plate044.jpg" + alt="Page 44-- Spot Which Would Have Been Fatal to You " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “I will beat you, Ariel,” said she, “I will beat you—fie upon you. + You an angel of light—no, no—have I not often pointed you out + the spot which would have been fatal to you, were it not for him—for + him! Stupid bird! there it is! do you not see it? No, as I live, your eye + is turned up sideways towards me, instead of looking at it, as if you + asked why, dear mistress, do you scold me so? And indeed I do not know, + Ariel. I scarcely know—but oh, my dear creature, if you knew—if + you knew—it is well you don’t. I am here—so are you—but + where is he?” + </p> + <p> + She was then silent for a considerable time, and sat with her head on her + hand. William could perceive that she sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + He advanced; and on hearing his foot she started, looked about, and on + seeing him, smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I am amusing myself, William,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “How, my dear Jane—how?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, by the remembrance of my former misery. You know that the + recollection of all past happiness is misery to the miserable—is it + not? but of that you are no judge, William—you were never + miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor shall you be so, Jane, longer than until Charles returns; but + touching your second plan of resignation, love. I don’t understand how + death could be resignation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not? then I will tell you. Should Charles prove false to me—that + would break my heart. I should die, and then—then—do you not + see—comes Death, the consoler.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, dear sister; but there will be no necessity for that. Charles will + be, and is, faithful and true to you. Will you come home with me, dear + Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “At present I cannot, William; I have places to see and things to think of + that are pleasant to me. I may almost say so; because as I told you they + amuse me. Let misery have its mirth, William; the remembrance of past + happiness is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, if you love me come home with me now?” + </p> + <p> + “If I do. Ah, William, that’s ungenerous. You are well aware that I do, + and so you use an argument which you know I won’t resist. Come,” + addressing the dove, “we must go; we are put upon our generosity; for of + course we do love poor William. Yes, we will go, William; it is better, I + believe.” + </p> + <p> + She then took his arm, and both walked home without speaking another word; + Jane having relapsed into a pettish silence which her brother felt it + impossible to break without creating unnecessary excitement in a mind + already too much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + From this day forward Jane’s mind, fragile as it naturally was, appeared + to bend at once under the double burden of Osborne’s approaching death, + and his apprehended treachery; for wherever the heart is found to choose + between two contingent evils, it is also by the very constitution of our + nature compelled to bear the penalty of both, until its gloomy choice is + made. At present Jane was not certain whether Osborne’s absence and + neglect were occasioned by ill health or faithlessness; and until she knew + this the double dread fell, as we said, with proportionate misery upon her + spirit. + </p> + <p> + Bitterly, indeed, did William regret the words in which he desired her “to + suppose that Charles Osborne was not sick.” Mr. Sinclair himself saw the + error, but unhappily too late to prevent the suspicion from entering into + an imagination already overwrought and disordered. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto, however, it was difficult, if not impossible, out of her own + family, to notice in her manner or conversation the workings of a mind + partially unsettled by a passion which her constitutional melancholy + darkened by its own gloomy creations. To strangers she talked rationally, + and with her usual grace and perspicuity, but every one observed that her + cheerfulness was gone, and the current report went, by whatever means it + got abroad, that Jane Sinclair’s heart was broken—that Charles + Osborne proved faithless—and that the beautiful Fawn of Springvale + was subject to occasional derangement. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Osborne was silent both to his father and to her, and as + time advanced the mood of her mind became too seriously unhappy and + alarming to justify any further patience on the part either of his family + or Mr. Sinclair’s. It was consequently settled that Mr. Osborne should set + out for Bath, and compel his son’s return, under the hope that a timely + interview might restore the deserted girl to a better state of mind, and + reproduce in his heart that affection which appeared to have either + slumbered or died. With a brow of care the excellent man departed, for in + addition to the concern which he felt for the calamity of Jane Sinclair + and Charles’s honor, he also experienced all the anxiety natural to an + affectionate father, ignorant of the situation in which he might find an + only son, who up to that period had been, and justly too, inexpressibly + dear to him. + </p> + <p> + His absence, however, was soon discovered by Jane, who now began to give + many proofs of that address with which unsettled persons can manage to + gain a point or extract a secret, when either in their own opinion is + considered essential to their gratification. Every member of her own + family now became subjected to her vigilance; every word they spoke was + heard with suspicion, and received as if it possessed a double meaning. On + more than one occasion she was caught in the attitude of a listener, and + frequently placed herself in such a position when sitting with her + relations at home, as enabled her to watch their motions in the glass, + when they supposed her engaged in some melancholy abstraction. + </p> + <p> + Yet bitter, bitter as all this must have been to their hearts, it was + singular to mark, that as the light of her reason receded, a new and + solemn feeling of reverence was added to all of love, and sorrow, and + pity, that they had hitherto experienced towards her. Now, too, was her + sway over them more commanding, though exercised only in the woeful + meekness of a broken heart; for, indeed, there is in the darkness of + unmerited affliction, a spirit which elevates its object, and makes + unsuffering nature humble in its presence. Who is there that has a heart, + and few, alas, have, that does not feel himself constrained to bend his + head with reverence before those who move in the majesty of undeserved + sorrow? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Osborne had not been many days gone, when Jane, one morning after + breakfast, desired the family not to separate for about an hour, or if + they did, to certainly reassemble within that period. “And in the + meantime,” she said, addressing Agnes, “I want you, my dear Agnes, to + assist me at my toilette, as they say. I am about to dress in my very + best, and it cannot, you know, be from vanity, for I have no one now to + gratify but yourselves—come.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair beckoned with his hand to Agnes to attend her, and they + accordingly left the room together. + </p> + <p> + “What is the reason, Agnes,” she said, “that there is so much mystery in + this family? I do not like these nods, and beckonings, and gestures, all + so full of meaning. It grieves me to see my papa, who is the very soul of + truth and candor, have recourse to them. But, alas, why should I blame any + of you, when I know that it is from an excess of indulgence to poor Jane, + and to avoid giving her pain that you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will not do it any more, love, if it pains or is disagreeable to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “It confounds me, Agnes, it injures my head, and sometimes makes me + scarcely know where I am, or who are about me. I begin to think that + there’s some dreadful secret among you; and I think of coffins, and + deaths, or of marriages, and wedding favors, and all that. Now, I can’t + bear to think of marriages, but death has something consoling in it; give + me death the consoler: yet,” she added, musing, “we shall not die, but we + shall all be changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, love, may I ask you why you are dressing with such care?” + </p> + <p> + “When we go down stairs I shall tell you. It’s wonderful, wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + “What is, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “My fortitude. But those words were prophetic. I remember well what I felt + when I heard them; to be sure he placed them in a different light from + what I at first understood them in; but I am handsomer now, I think. You + will be a witness for me below, Agnes, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, darling.” + </p> + <p> + “Agnes, where are my tears gone of late? I think I ought to advertise for + them, or advertise for others, ‘Wanted for unhappy Jane Sinclair’”— + </p> + <p> + Agnes could bear no more. “Jane,” she exclaimed, clasping her in her arms, + and kissing her smiling lips, for she smiled while uttering the last + words, “oh, Jane, don’t, don’t, my darling, or you will break my heart—your + own Agnes’s heart, whom you loved so well, and whose happiness or misery + is bound I up in yours.” + </p> + <p> + “For unhappy Jane Sinclair!—no I won’t distress you, dear Agnes; let + the advertisement go; here, I will kiss you, love, and dry your tears, and + then when I am dressed you shall know all.” + </p> + <p> + She took up her own handkerchief as she spoke, and after having again + kissed her sister, wiped her cheeks and dried her eyes with childlike + tenderness and affection. She then, looked sorrowfully upon Agnes, and + said—“Oh, Agnes, Agnes, but my heart is heavy—heavy!” + </p> + <p> + Agnes’s tears were again beginning to flow, but Jane once more kissed her, + and hastily wiping her eyes, exclaimed in that sweet, low voice with which + we address children, “Hush, hush, Agnes, do not cry, I will not make you + sorry any more.” + </p> + <p> + She then went on to dress herself, but uttered not another word until she + and Agnes met the family below stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I am now come, papa and mamma, and William, and my darling Maria—but, + Maria, listen,—I won’t have a tear, and you, Agnes,—I am come + now to tell you a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “And, dearest life,” said her mother, “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “What made them call me the Fawn of Springvale?” + </p> + <p> + “For your gentleness, love,” said Mr. Sinclair. + </p> + <p> + “And for your beauty, darling,” added her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Papa has it,” she replied quickly; “for my gentleness, for my gentleness. + My beauty, mamma, I am not beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + While uttering these words, she approached the looking-glass, and surveyed + herself with a smile of irony that seemed to disclaim her own assertion. + But it was easy to perceive that the irony was directed to some one not + then present, and that it was also associated with the memory of something + painful to her in an extreme degree. + </p> + <p> + Not beautiful! Never did mortal form gifted with beauty approaching nearer + to our conception of the divine or angelic, stand smiling in the + consciousness of its own charms before a mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she proceeded, “I am going to make everything quite plain. I never + told you this before, but it is time I should now. Listen—Charles + Osborne bound himself by a curse, that if he met, during his absence, a + girl more beautiful than I am—or than I was then, I should say,—he + would cease to write to me—he would cease to love me. Now, here’s my + secret,—he has found a girl more beautiful than I am,—than I + was then, I, mean,—for he has ceased to write to me—and of + course he has ceased to love me. So mamma, I am not beautiful, and the + Fawn of Springvale—his own Jane Sinclair is forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down and hung her head for some minutes, and the family, thinking + that she either wept or was about to weep, did not think it right to + address her. She rose up, however, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Agnes is my witness: Did not you, Agnes, say that I am now much handsomer + than when Charles saw me last?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, darling, and I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, mamma—perhaps you will find me beautiful yet. Now the + case is this, and I will be guided by my papa. Let me see—Charles + may have seen a girl more beautiful than I was then,—but how does he + know whether she is more beautiful than I am now?” + </p> + <p> + It was—it was woful to see a creature of such unparalleled grace and + loveliness working out the calculations of insanity, in order to sustain a + broken heart. + </p> + <p> + “But then,” she added, still smiling in conscious beauty, “why does he not + come to see me now? Why does he not come?” After musing again for some + time, she dropped on her knees in one of those rapid transitions of + feeling peculiar to persons of her unhappy class; and joining her hands, + looked up to Agnes with a countenance utterly and indescribably mournful, + exclaiming as she did it, in the same words as before:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh Agnes, Agnes, but my heart is heavy!” + </p> + <p> + She then laid down her head on her sister’s knees, and for a long time + mused and murmured to herself, as if her mind was busily engaged on some + topic full of grief and misery. This was evident by the depth of her + sighs, which shook her whole frame, and heaved with convulsive quiverings + through her bosom. Having remained in this posture about ten minutes, she + arose, and without speaking, or noticing any of the family, went out and + sauntered with slow and melancholy steps about the place where she loved + to walk. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair’s family at this period, and indeed, for a considerable time + past were placed, with reference to their unhappy daughter in + circumstances of peculiar distress. Their utter ignorance of Osborne’s + designs put it out of their power to adopt any particular mode of + treatment in Jane’s case. They could neither give her hope, nor prepare + her mind for disappointment; but were forced to look passively on, though + with hearts wrung into agony, whilst her miserable malady every day gained + new strength in its progress of desolation. The crisis was near at hand, + however, that was to terminate their suspense. A letter from Mr. Osborne + arrived, in which he informed them that Charles had left Bath, for London, + in company with a family of rank, a few days before he reached it. He + mentioned the name of the baronet, whose beautiful daughter, possessing an + ample fortune, at her own disposal, fame reported to have been smitten + with his son’s singular beauty and accomplishments. It was also said, he + added, that the lady had prevailed on her father to sanction young + Osborne’s addresses to her, and that the baronet, who was a strong + political partizan, calculating upon his preeminent talents, intended to + bring him into parliament, in order to strengthen his party. He added that + he himself was then starting for London, to pursue his son, and rescue him + from an act which would stamp his name with utter baseness and dishonor. + </p> + <p> + This communication, so terrible in its import to a family of such worth + and virtue, was read to them by Mr. Sinclair, during one of those solitary + rambles which Jane was in the habit of taking every day. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my children,” said the white-haired father, summoning all the + fortitude of a Christian man to his aid,—“now must we show ourselves + not ignorant of those resources which the religion of Christ opens to all + who are for His wise purposes grievously and heavily afflicted. Let us act + as becomes the dignity of our faith. We must suffer: let it be with + patience, and a will resigned to that which laid the calamity upon us,—and + principally upon the beloved mourner who is dear, dear—and oh! how + justly is she dear to all our hearts! Be firm, my children—and + neither speak, nor look, nor act as if these heavy tidings had reached us. + This is not only our duty, but our wisest course under circumstances so + distressing as ours. Another letter from Mr. Osborne will decide all and + until then we must suffer in silent reliance upon the mercy of God. It + may, however, be a consolation to you all to know, that if this young + man’s heart be detached from that of our innocent and loving child, I + would rather—the disposing will of God being still allowed—see + her wrapped in the cerements of death than united to one, who with so + little scruple can trample upon the sanctions of religion, or tamper with + the happiness of a fellow-creature. Oh, may God of His mercy sustain our + child, and bear her in His own right hand through this heavy woe!” + </p> + <p> + This affecting admonition did not fall upon them in vain,—for until + the receipt of Mr, Osborne’s letter from London, not even Jane, with all + her vigilance, was able to detect in their looks or manner any change or + expression beyond what she had usually noticed. That letter at length + arrived, and, as they had expected, filled up the measure of Osborne’s + dishonor and their affliction. The contents were brief but fearful. Mr. + Osborne stated that he arrived in London on the second day after his son’s + marriage, and found, to his unutterable distress, that he and his + fashionable wife had departed for the continent on the very day the + ceremony took place. + </p> + <p> + “I could not,” proceeded his father, “wrench my heart so suddenly out of + the strong affection it felt for the hope of my past life, as to curse + him; but, from this day forward I disown him as my son. You know not, my + friend, what I feel, and what I suffer; for he who was the pride of my + declining years has, by this act of unprincipled ambition, set his seal to + the unhappiness of his father. I am told, indeed, that the lady is very + beautiful—and amiable as she is beautiful—and that their + passion for each other amounts to idolatry;—but neither her beauty, + nor her wealth, nor her goodness could justify my son in an act of such + cruel and abandoned perfidy to a creature who seems to be more nearly + related to the angelic nature than the human.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, my children,” observed Mr. Sinclair, “that the worst, as far as + relates to Osborne, is before us. I have nothing now to add to what I have + already said on the receipt of the letter from Bath. You know your duty, + and with God’s assistance I trust you will act up to it. At present it + might be fatal to our child were she to know what has happened; nor, + indeed, are we qualified to break the matter to her, without the advice of + some medical man, eminent in cases similar to that which afflicts her.” + </p> + <p> + These observations were scarcely concluded when Jane entered the room, and + as usual, cast a calm but searching glance around her. She saw that they + had been in tears, and that they tried in vain to force their faces I into + a hurried composure, that seemed strangely at variance with what they + felt. + </p> + <p> + After a slight pause she sat down, and putting her hand to her temple, + mused for some minutes. They observed that a sorrow more deep and settled + than usual, was expressed on her countenance. Her eyes were filled, + although tears did not come, and the muscles of her lips quivered + excessively; yet she did not speak; and such was the solemnity of the + moment to them, who knew all, that none of them could find voice + sufficiently firm to address her. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said she, at length, “this has been a day of busy thought with me. + I think I see, and I am sure I feel my own situation. The only danger is, + that I may feel it too much. I fear I have felt it—(she put her hand + to her forehead as she spoke)—I fear I have felt it too deeply + already. Pauses—lapses, or perhaps want of memory for a certain + space, occasioned by—by———” she hesitated. “Bear + with me, papa, and mamma; bear with me; for this is a great effort; let me + recollect myself, and do not question me or—speak to me until I———. + It is, it is woeful to see me reduced to this; but nothing is seriously + wrong with me yet—nothing. Let me see; yes, yes, papa, here it is. + Let us not be reduced to the miserable necessity of watching each other, + as we have been. Let me know the worst. You have nearly broken me down by + suspense. Let me know the purport of the letter you received to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day, love!” exclaimed her mother. “Yes, mamma, to-day. I made John + show it me on his way from the post-office. The superscription was Mr. + Osborne’s hand. Let me, O let me,” she exclaimed, dropping down upon her + knees, “as you value my happiness here and hereafter, let me at once know + the worst—the very worst. Am I not the daughter of a pious minister + of the Gospel, and do you think I shall or can forget the instructions I + received from his lips? Treat me as a rational being, if you wish me to + remain rational. But O, as you love my happiness here, and my soul’s + salvation, do not, papa, do not, mamma, do not, Maria, do not, Agnes, + William,—do not one or all of you keep your unhappy sister hanging + in the agony of suspense! It will kill me!—it will kill me!” + </p> + <p> + Suppressed sobs there were, which no firmness could restrain. But in a few + moments those precepts of the Christian pastor, which we have before + mentioned, came forth among this sorrowing family, in the same elevated + spirit which dictated them. When Jane had concluded this appeal to her + father, there was a dead, silence in the room, and every eye glanced from, + him to her, full of uncertainty as to what course of conduct he would + pursue. He turned his eyes upwards for a few moments, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Can truth, my children, under any circumstances, be injurious to——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no, papa,” exclaimed Jane; “I know—I feel the penalty paid + for even the indirect violation of it.” + </p> + <p> + “In the name of God, then,” exclaimed the well-meaning man, “we will rely + upon the good sense and religious principle of our dear Jane, and tell her + the whole truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Henry, dear!” said Mrs. Sinclair in a tone of expostulation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh papa,” said Agnes, “remember your own words!” + </p> + <p> + “The truth, my papa, the truth!” said Jane. “You are its accredited + messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said he, “is your trust strong in the support of the Almighty?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no other dependence, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said he, “this is the truth: Charles Osborne has been false to + you. He has broken his vows;—he is married to another woman. And + now, my child, may the God of truth, and peace, and mercy, sustain and + console you!” + </p> + <p> + “And He will, too, my papa!—He will!” she exclaimed, rising up;—“He + will! He will!—I—I know—I think I know something. I + violated truth, and now truth is my punishment. I violated it to my papa, + and now my papa is the medium of that punishment. Well, then, there’s a + Providence proved. But, in the mean time, mamma, what has become of my + beauty? It is gone—it is gone—and now for humility and + repentance—now for sackcloth and ashes. I am now no longer + beautiful!—so off, off go the trappings of vanity!” + </p> + <p> + She put her hands up to her bosom, and began to tear down her dress with a + violence so powerful, that it took William and Maria’s strength to prevent + her. She became furious. “Let me go,” she exclaimed, “let me go; I am + bound to a curse; but Charles, Charles—don’t you see he will be + poisoned: he will kiss her lips and be poisoned; poisoned lips for + Charles, and I too see it!—and mine here with balm upon them, and + peace and love! My boy’s lost, and I am lost, and the world has destroyed + us.” + </p> + <p> + She wrought with incredible strength, and attempted still, while speaking, + to tear her garments off; put finding herself overpowered, she at length + sat down and passed from this state of violence into a mood so helplessly + calm, that the family, now in an outcry of grief, with the exception of + her father who appeared cool, felt their very hearts shiver at the vacant + serenity of her countenance. + </p> + <p> + Her mother went over, and, seizing her husband firmly by the arms, pulled + him towards her, and with an ashy face and parched lips, exclaimed, + “There, Charles—all is now over—our child is an idiot!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh do not blame me,” said the brokenhearted father; “I did it for the + best. Had I thought—had I thought—but I will speak to her, for + I think my voice will reach her heart—you know how she loved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said he, approaching her, “Jane, my dearest life, will you not + speak to your papa?” + </p> + <p> + She became uneasy again, and, much to their relief, broke silence. + </p> + <p> + “I am not,” said she, calmly; “it is gone; I was once though—indeed, + indeed I was; and it was said so; I was called the Fawn of—of—but + it seems beauty passes like the flower of the field.” + </p> + <p> + “Darling, speak to me, to your papa.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I am old now; an old woman, I suppose. My hair is gray, and I + am wrinkled; that’s the reason why they scorn me; well I was once both + young and beautiful; but that is past. Charles,” said she, catching her + father’s hand and looking into it, “you are old, too, I believe. Why—why—why, + how is this? Your hair is long and white. Oh, what a change since I knew + you last. White hair! long, white, venerable, hair—that’s old age— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pity old age within whose silver hairs + Honor and reverence evermore do lie.” + </pre> + <p> + “Thank God, dear Henry,” said her mother, “she is not at all events an + idiot. Children,” said she, “I trust you will remember your father’s + advice, and bear this—this——.” But here the heart and + strength of the mother herself were overcome, and she was sinking down + when her son caught her ere she fell, and carried her out in his arms, + accompanied by Maria and Agnes. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult for any pen to paint the distraction of her father, + thus placed in a state of divided apprehension between his daughter and + his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my child, my child,” he exclaimed, “Perhaps in the midst of this + misery, your mother may be dying! May the God of all consolation support + you and her! What, oh what will become of us!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” his daughter went on; “life’s a fearful thing that can work + such anges; but why may we not as well pass at once from youth to old age + as from happiness to misery? Here we are both old; ay, and if we are gray + it is less with age than affliction—that’s one comfort—I am + young enough to be beautiful yet; but age, when it comes prematurely on + the youthful, as it often does—thanks to treachery and + disappointment, ay, and thanks to a thousand causes which we all know but + don’t wish to think of; age, I say, when it comes prematurely on the + youthful, is just like a new and unfinished house that is suffered to fall + into ruin—desolation, naked, and fresh, and glaring—without + the reverence and grandeur of antiquity. Yes—yes—yes; but + there is another cause; and that must be whispered only to the uttermost + depths of silence—of silence; for silence is the voice of God. That + word—that word! Oh, how I shudder to think of it! And who will pity + me when I acknowledge it—there is one—one only—who will + mourn for my despair and the fate, foreordained and predestined, of one + whom he loved—that is my papa—my papa only—my papa only; + for he knows that I am a <i>castaway</i>—-A CAST-AWAY!” + </p> + <p> + These words were uttered with an energy of manner and a fluency of + utterance which medical men know to be strongly characteristic of + insanity, unless indeed where the malady is silent and moping. The + afflicted old man now discovered that his daughter’s mind had, in addition + to her disappointment, sunk under the frightful and merciless dogma, which + we trust will soon cease to darken and distort the beneficent character of + God. Indeed it might have been evident to him before that in looking upon + herself as a castaway, Jane’s sensitive spirit was gradually lapsing into + the gloomy horrors of predestination. But this blindness of the father to + such a tendency was very natural in a man to whose eye familiarity with + the doctrine had removed its deformity. The old man looked upon her + countenance with an expression of mute affliction almost verging on + despair; for a moment he forgot the situation of his wife and everything + but the consequences of a discovery so full of terror and dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my unhappy child,” he exclaimed, “and is this, too, to be added to + your misery and ours? Now, indeed, is the cup of our affliction full even + to overflowing. O God! who art good and full of mercy,” he added, dropping + on his knees under the bitter impulse of the moment, “and who wiliest not + the death of a sinner, oh lay not upon her or us a weight of sorrow + greater than we can bear. We do not, O Lord! for we dare not, desire Thee + to stay Thy hand; but oh, chastise us in mercy, especially her—her—Our + hearts’ dearest—she was ever the child, of our loves; but now she is + also the unhappy child of all our sorrows; the broken idol of affections + which we cannot change. Enable us, O God, to acquiesce under this + mysterious manifestation of Thy will, and to receive from Thy hand with + patience and resignation whatsoever of affliction it pleaseth Thee to lay + upon us. And touching this stricken one—if it were Thy blessed will + to—to—but no—oh no—not our will, oh Lord, but + Thine be done!” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a beautiful thing to see the sorrow-bound father bowing down + his gray locks with humility before the footstool of his God, and + forbearing even to murmur under a dispensation so fearfully calamitous to + him and his. Religion, however, at which the fool and knave may sneer in + the moments of convivial riot, is after all the only stay on which the + human heart can rest in those severe trials of life which almost every one + sooner or later is destined to undergo. The sceptic may indeed triumph in + the pride of his intellect or in the hour of his passion; but no matter on + what arguments his hollow creed is based, let but the footstep of disease + or death approach, and he himself is the first to abandon it and take + refuge in those truths which he had hitherto laughed at or maligned. When + Mr. Sinclair arose, his countenance, through all the traces of sorrow + which were upon it, beamed with a light which no principle, merely human, + could communicate to it. A dim but gentle and holy radiance suffused his + whole face, and his heart, for a moment, received the assurance it wanted + so much. He experienced a feeling for which language has no terms, or at + least none adequate to express its character. It was “that peace of God + which passeth all understanding.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes after he had concluded his short but earnest prayer, + Agnes returned to let him know that her mamma was better and would + presently come in to sit with Jane, whom she could not permit, she said, + to regain out of her sight. Jane had been silent for some time, but the + extreme brilliancy of her eyes and the energy of her excitement were too + obvious to permit any expectation of immediate improvement. + </p> + <p> + When her mother and Maria returned, accompanied also by William, she took + no note whatsoever of them, nor indeed did she appear to have an eye for + anything external to her own deep but unsettled misery. Time after time + they spoke to her as before, each earnestly hoping that some favorite + expression or familiar tone of voice might impinge, however slightly, upon + her reason, or touch some chord of her affections. These tender devices of + their love, however, all failed; no corresponding emotion was awakened, + and they resolved, without loss of time, to see what course of treatment + medical advice recommend them to pursue on her behalf. Accordingly William + proceeded with a heavy heart to call in the aid of a gentleman who can + bear full testimony to the accuracy of our narrative—we allude to + that able and eminent practitioner, Doctor M’Cormick of. Belfast, whose + powers, of philosophical analysis, and patient investigation are surpassed + only by the success of the masterly skill with which he applies them. The + moment he left the room for this purpose, Jane spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It will be hard,” she said, “and I need not conceal it, for my very + thought has a voice at the footstool of the Almighty; the intelligences of + other worlds know it; all; the invisible spirits of the universe know it; + those that are evil rejoice, and the good would murmur if the fulness of + their own happiness permitted them. No—no—I need not conceal + it—hearken, therefore—hearken;” and she lowered her voice to a + whisper—“the Fawn of Springvale—Jane Sinclair—is + predestined to eternal misery. She is a <i>cast-away</i>. I may therefore + speak and raise my voice to warn; who shall dare,” she added, “who shall + dare ever to part from the truth! Those—those only who have been + foredoomed—like me. Oh misery, misery, is there no hope? nothing but + despair for one so young, and as they said, so gentle, and so beautiful, + Alas! alas! Death to me now is no consoler!” + </p> + <p> + She clasped her beautiful hands together as she spoke, and looked with a + countenance so full of unutterable woe that no heart could avoid + participating in her misery. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, oh darling of all our hearts,” said her weeping mother, “will you + not come over and sit beside your mamma—your mamma, my treasure, who + feels that she cannot long live to witness what you suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “The Fawn of Springvale,” she proceeded, “the gentle Fawn of Springvale, + for it was on the account of my gentleness I was so called, is stricken—the + arrow is here—in her poor broken heart; and what did she do, what + did the gentle creature do to suffer or to deserve all this misery?” + </p> + <p> + “True, my sister—too true, too true,” said Maria, bursting into an + agony of bitter sorrow; “what strange mystery is in the gentle one’s + affliction? Surely, if there was ever a spotless or a sinless creature on + earth, she was and is that creature.” + </p> + <p> + “Beware of murmuring, Maria,” said her father; “the purpose, though at + present concealed, may yet become sufficiently apparent for us to + recognize in it the benignant dispensation of a merciful God. Our duty, my + dear child, is now to bear, and be resigned. The issues of this sad + calamity are with the Almighty, and with Him let us patiently leave them.” + </p> + <p> + “Had I never disclosed my love,” proceeded Jane, “I might have stolen + quietly away from them all and laid my cheek on that hardest pillow which + giveth the soundest sleep; but would not concealment,” she added, + starting; “would not that too have been dissimulation? Oh God help me!—it + is, it is clear that in any event I was foredoomed!” + </p> + <p> + Agnes, who had watched her sister with an interest too profound to suffer + even the grief necessary on such an occasion to take place, now went over, + and taking her hand in one of hers, placed the fingers of the other upon + her sister’s cheek, thus attempting to fix Jane’s eyes upon her own + countenance— + </p> + <p> + “Do you not know who it is,” said she, “that is now speaking to you?—Look + upon me, and tell me do you forget me so soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell yet,” she proceeded, “who can tell yet—time may + retrieve all, and he may return: but the yew tree—I fear—I + fear—why, it is an emblem of death; and perhaps death may unite us—yes, + and I say he will—he will—he will. Does he not feel pity? Oh + yes, in a thousand, thousand cases he is the friend of the miserable. + Death the Consoler! Oh from how many an aching brow does he take away the + pain for ever? How many sorrows does he soothe into rest that is never + broken!—from how many hearts like mine, does he pluck the arrows + that fester in them, and bids them feel pain no more! In his house, that + house appointed for all living—what calmness and peace is there? How + sweet and tranquil is the bed which he smoothes down for the unhappy; + there the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Then + give me Death the Consoler?—Death the Consoler!” + </p> + <p> + A sense of relief and wild exultation beamed from her countenance, on + uttering the last words, and she rose up and walked about the room + wringing her hands, yet smiling at the idea of being relieved by Death the + Consoler! It is not indeed unusual to witness in deranged persons, an + unconscious impression of pain and misery, accompanied at the same time by + a vague sense of unreal happiness—that is, a happiness which, whilst + it balances the latent conviction of their misery does not, however, + ultimately remove it. This probably constitutes that pleasure in madness, + which, it is said, none but mad persons know. + </p> + <p> + At length she stood, and, for a long time seemed musing upon various and + apparently contrasted topics, for she sometimes smiled as a girl at play, + and sometimes relapsed into darkness of mood and pain, and incoherency. + But after passing through these rapid changes for many minutes, she + suddenly exclaimed in a low but earnest voice, “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Where is who, love?” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?—why does he not come?—something more than usual + must prevent him, or he would not stay away so long from ‘his own Jane + Sinclair.’ But I forgot; bless me, how feeble my memory is growing! Why + this is the hour of our appointment, and I will be late unless I hurry—for + who could give so gentle and affectionate a being as Charles pain?” + </p> + <p> + She immediately put on her bonnet, and was about to go abroad, when her + father, gently laying his hand upon her arm, said, in a kind but + admonitory voice, in which was blended a slightly perceptible degree of + parental authority— + </p> + <p> + “My daughter, surely you will not go out—you are unwell.” + </p> + <p> + She started slightly, paused, and looked as if trying to remember + something that she had forgotten. The struggle, however, was vain—her + recollection proved too weak for the task it had undertaken. After a + moment’s effort, she smiled sweetly in her father’s face, and said— + </p> + <p> + “You would not have me break my appointment, nor give poor Charles pain, + and his health, moreover, so delicate. You know he would die rather than + give me a moment’s anxiety. Die!—see that again—I know not + what puts death into my head so often.” + </p> + <p> + “Henry,” said her mother, “it is probably better to let her have her own + way for the present—at least until Dr. M’Cormick arrives. You and + Agnes can accompany her, perhaps she may be the better for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot refuse her,” said the old man; “at all events, I agree with you; + there can, I think, be no possible harm in allowing her to go. Come, + Agnes, we must, alas! take care of her.” + </p> + <p> + She then went out, they walking a few paces behind her, and proceeded down + the valley which we have already described in the opening of this story, + until she came to the spot at the river, where she first met Osborne. Here + she involuntarily stood a moment, and putting her hand to her right + shoulder, seemed to miss some object, that was obviously restored to her + recollection by an association connected with the place. She shook her + head, and sighed several times, and then exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Ungrateful bird, does it neglect me too?” + </p> + <p> + Her father pressed Agnes’s arm with a sensation of joy, but spoke not lest + his voice might disturb her, or break the apparent continuity of her + reviving memory. She seemed to think, however, that she delayed here too + long, for without taking further notice of anything she hurried on to the + spot where the first disclosure of their loves had taken place. On + reaching it she looked anxiously and earnestly around the copse or dell in + which the yew tree, with its turf seat stood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/plate052.jpg" + alt="Page 52-- How is This?--how Is This?--he Is Not Here! " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “How is this?—how is this?”—she murmured to herself, “he is + not here!” + </p> + <p> + Both her father and Agnes observed that during the whole course of the + unhappy but faithful girl’s love, they never had witnessed such a + concentrated expression of utter woe and sorrow as now impressed + themselves upon her features. + </p> + <p> + “He has not come,” said she; “but I can wait—I can wait—it + will teach my heart to be patient.” + </p> + <p> + She then clasped her hands, and sitting down under the shade of the yew + tree, mused and murmured to herself alternately, but in such an evident + spirit of desolation and despair, as made her father fear that her heart + would literally break down under the heavy burden of her misery. When she + had sat here nearly an hour, he approached her and gently taking her hand, + which felt as cold as marble, said— + </p> + <p> + “Will you not come home, darling? Your mamma is anxious you should return + to her. Come,” and he attempted gently to draw her with him. + </p> + <p> + “I can wait, I can wait,” she replied, “if he should come and find me + gone, he would break his heart—I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh do not droop, my sweet sister; do not droop so much; all will yet be + well,” said Agnes, weeping. + </p> + <p> + “I care for none but him—to me there is only one being in life—all + else is a blank; but he will not come, and is it not too much, to try the + patience of a heart so fond and faithful.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not likely he will come to-day,” replied Agnes; “something has + prevented him; but to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + “I will seek him elsewhere,” said Jane, rising suddenly; “but is it not + singular, and indeed to what strange passes things may come? A young lady + seeking her lover!—not over-modest certainly—nay, positively + indelicate—fie upon me! Why should I thus expose myself? It is + unworthy of my father’s daughter, and Jane Sinclair will not do it.” + </p> + <p> + She then walked a few paces homewards, but again stopped and earnestly + looked in every direction, as if expecting to see the object of her love. + Long indeed did she linger about a spot so dear to her; and often did she + sit down again and rise to go—sometimes wringing her hands in the + muteness of sorrow, and sometimes exhibiting a sense of her neglect in + terms of pettish and indirect censure against Osborne for his delay. It + was in one of those capricious moments that she bent her steps homewards; + and as she had again to pass that part of the river where the accident + occurred to the dove, Agnes and her father observed that she instinctively + put her hand to her shoulder, and appeared as if disappointed. On this + occasion, however, she made no observation whatever, but, much to their + satisfaction, mechanically proceeded towards Springvale House, which she + reached without uttering another word. + </p> + <p> + Until a short time before the arrival of Dr. M’Cormick, this silence + remained unbroken. She sat nearly in the same attitude, evidently + pondering on something that excited great pain, as was observable by her + frequent startings, and a disposition to look wildly about her, as if with + an intention of suddenly speaking. These, however, passed quickly away, + and she generally relapsed into her wild and unsettled reveries. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor arrived, he sat with her in silence for a considerable + time—listening to her incoherencies from an anxiety to ascertain, as + far as possible, by what she might utter, whether her insanity was likely + to be transient or otherwise. The cause of it he had already heard from + report generally, and a more exact and circumstantial account on that day + from her brother William. + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult,” he at length said, “to form anything like an exact + opinion upon the first attack of insanity, arising from a disappointment + of the heart. Much depends upon the firmness of the general character, and + the natural force of their common sense. If I were to judge, not only by + what I have heard from this most beautiful and interesting creature, as + well as from the history of her heart, which her brother gave me so fully, + I would say that I think this attack will not be a long one. I am of + opinion that her mind is in a state of transition not from reason but to + it; and that this transition will not be complete without much physical + suffering. The state of her pulse assures me of this, as does the coldness + of her hands. I should not be surprised if, in the course of this very + night she were attacked with strong fits. These, if they take place, will + either restore her to reason or confirm her insanity. Poor girl,” said the + amiable man, looking on her whilst his eyes filled with tears, “he must + have been a heartless wretch to abandon such a creature. My dear Jane,” he + added, addressing her, for he had been, and still is, familiar with the + family; “I am sorry to find you are so unwell, but you will soon be + bettor. Do you not know me.” + </p> + <p> + “It was sworn,” said the unhappy mourner; “it was sworn and I felt this + here—here “—and she placed her hand upon her heart; “I felt + this little tenant of my poor bosom sink—sink, and my blood going + from my cheeks when the words were uttered. More beautiful! more + beautiful! why, and what is love if it is borne away merely by beauty? I + loved him not for his beauty alone. I loved him because he—he—because + he loved me—but at first I did love him for his beauty; well, he has + found another more beautiful; and his own Jane Sinclair, his Fawn of + Springvale, as he used to call me, is forgotten. But mark me—let + none dare to blame him—he only fulfilled his destined part—the + thing was foredoomed, and I knew that by my suppression of the truth to my + papa, the seal of reprobation was set to my soul. Then—then it was + that I felt myself a cast-away! And indeed,” she added, rising up and + laying the forefinger of her right hand, on the palm of her left, “I would + at any time sacrifice myself for his happiness; I would; yet alas,” she + added, sitting down and hanging her head in sorrow; “why—why is it + that I am so miserable, when he is happy? Why is that, Miss Jane Sinclair—why + is that?” She then sighed deeply, and added in a tone of pathos almost + irresistible—“Oh that I had the wings of a dove, that I might flee + away and be at rest.” + </p> + <p> + She had scarcely spoken, when, by a beautiful and affecting coincidence, + Ariel entered the room, and immediately flew into her bosom. She put her + hand up and patted it for some time rather unconsciously than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you foolish bird,” she at length said; “have you no better place of + rest, no calmer spot to repose upon, than a troubled and a broken heart?” + </p> + <p> + This incident of the dove, together with the mournful truth of this + melancholy observation, filled every eye with tears, except those of her + father, who now exhibited a spirit of calm obedience to what he considered + an affliction that called upon him to act as one whose faith was not the + theory of a historic Christian. + </p> + <p> + “But how,” added Jane, “can I be unhappy with the Paraclete in my bosom? + The Paraclete—oh that I were not reprobate and foredoomed—then + indeed, he might be there—all, all by one suppression of truth—but + surely my papa pities his poor girl for that, there is, I know, one that + loves me, and one that pities me. My papa knows that I am foredoomed, and + cannot but pity me: but where is he, and why does he delay so long. Hush! + I will sing— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The dawning of morn, the daylight’s sinking, + The night’s long hours still find me thinking + Of thee, thee—only thee!” + </pre> + <p> + She poured a spirit into these words so full of the wild sorrow of + insanity, as to produce an effect that was thrilling and fearful upon + those who were forced to listen to her. Nay, her voice seemed, in some + degree, to awaken her own emotions, or to revive her memory to a confused + perception of her situation. And in mercy it would appear that Providence + unveiled only half her memory to reason; for from the effect which even + that passing glimpse had upon her, it is not wrong to infer that had she + seen it in its full extent, she would have immediately sunk under it. + </p> + <p> + After singing the words of Moore with all the unregulated pathos of a + maniac, she wrung her hands, and was for a considerable time silent. + During this interval she sighed deeply, and after a pause of half an hour + arose suddenly, and seizing her father by the breast of the coat, brought + him over, and placed him on the sofa beside her. She then looked earnestly + into his face, and was about to speak, but her thoughts were too weak for + the task, and after putting her hand to her forehead, as if to assist her + recollection, she let it fall passively beside her, and hung-her head in a + mood, partaking at once of childish pique and deep dejection. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who watched her closely, observed, that in his opinion the + consequences of the unhappy intelligence that day communicated to her, had + not yet fully developed themselves. “The storm has not yet burst,” he + added, “but it is quite evident that the elements for it are fast + gathering. She will certainly have a glimpse of reason before the + paroxysms appear, because, in point of fact, that is what will induce + them.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon, doctor,” asked her mother, “do you think she will have to + encounter this fresh and woeful trial?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be disposed to think within the lapse of twenty-four hours; + certainly within forty-eight.” + </p> + <p> + The amiable doctor’s opinion, however, was much more quickly verified than + he imagined; for Jane, whose heart yearned towards her father with the + beautiful instinct of an affection which scarcely insanity itself could + overcome, once more looked earnestly into his face, with an eye in which + meaning and madness seemed to struggle for the mastery. She gazed at him + for a long time, put her hands upon his white hair, into which she gently + twined her long white fingers; once or twice she smiled, and said + something in a voice too low to be heard: but all at once she gave a + convulsive start, clasped her hands wofully, and throwing herself on his + bosom, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh papa, papa—your child is lost: pray for me—pray for me.” + </p> + <p> + Her sobs became too thick and violent for further utterance; she panted + and wrought strongly, until at length she lay with locked teeth and + clenched hands struggling in a fit which eventually, by leaving her, + terminated in a state of lethargic insensibility. + </p> + <p> + For upwards of three days she suffered more than any person unacquainted + with her delicacy of constitution could deem her capable of enduring. And, + indeed, were it not that the aid rendered by Dr. M’Cormick was so prompt + and so skilful, it is possible that the sorrows of the faithful Jane + Sinclair might have here closed. On the fourth day, however, she + experienced a change; but, alas, such a change as left the loving and + beloved group who had hung over her couch with anxious hopes of her + restoration to reason, now utterly hopeless and miserable. She arose from + her paroxysms a beautiful, happy, and smiling maniac, from whose soul in + mercy had been removed that susceptibility of mental pain, which + constitutes the burthen and bitterness of ordinary calamity. + </p> + <p> + The first person who discovered this was her mother, who, on the fourth + morning of her illness, had stolen to her bedside to see how her beloved + one felt. Agnes, who would permit no other person to nurse her darling + sister, lay asleep with her head reclining on the foot of the bed, having + been overcome by her grief and the fatigue of incessant watching. As her + mother stooped down to look into the sufferer’s face, her heart bounded + with delight oh seeing Jane’s eyes smiling upon her with all the symptoms + of recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my heart’s dearest,” she said, in a soothing, low inquiry, “don’t + you know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very well,” she replied; “you are my mamma, and this is Agnes + sleeping on the foot of the bed. Why does she sleep there?” + </p> + <p> + The happy mother scarcely heard her child’s question, for ere the words + were well uttered she laid her head down upon the mourner’s bosom, in a + burst of melancholy joy, and wept so loudly that her voice awakened Agnes, + who, starting up, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, mother—what is this? Is—?” she said, “No, no—she + must not—she would not leave her Agnes. Oh mother—mother, is + it so?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Agnes love; no—but may the mercy of God be exalted for + ever, Jane knows her mamma this morning, and she knows you too, Agnes.” + </p> + <p> + That ever faithful sister no sooner heard the words, than a smile of + indescribable happiness overspread her face, which, however, became + instantly pale, and the next moment she sunk down, and in a long swoon + forgot both the love and sorrow of her favorite sister. In little more + than a minute the family were assembled in the sickroom, and heard from + Mrs. Sinclair’s lips the history, as she thought, of their beloved one’s + recovery. Agnes was soon restored, and indeed it would be impossible to + witness a scene of such unexpected delight, as that presented by the + rejoicing group which surrounded the bed of the happy—alas, too + happy, Jane Sinclair. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, my dear,” said her father, “that our darling is restored + to her sense and recollection?” + </p> + <p> + “Try her, Henry,” said the proud mother. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my love, do you not know me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, papa; to be sure,” she replied smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And you know all of us, my heart’s treasure?” + </p> + <p> + “Help me up a little,” she replied; “now I will show you: you are my papa—there + is my mamma—that is William—and Maria there will kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + Maria, from whose eyes gushed tears of delight, flew to the sweet girl’s + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “But,” added Jane, “there is another—another that must come to my + bosom and stay there—Agnes!” + </p> + <p> + “I am here, my own darling,” replied Agnes, stooping and folding her arms + about the beautiful creature’s snow-white neck, whilst she kissed her lips + with a fervor of affection equal to the delight experienced at her + supposed recovery. + </p> + <p> + “There now, Agnes, you are to sleep with mo to-night: but I want my papa. + Papa, I want you.” + </p> + <p> + Her father stood forward, his mild eyes beaming with an expression of + delight and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I am here, my sweet child.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be a proud man, papa; a proud man: although I say it, that + ought <i>not</i> to say it, you are father to the most beautiful girl in + Europe. Charles Osborne has traveled Europe, and can find none at all so + beautiful as the Fawn of Springvale, and so he is coming home one of these + days to marry me, because, you know, because he could find none else so + beautiful. If he had—if he had—you know—you may be + assured, I would not be the girl of his choice. Yet I would marry him + still, if it were not for one thing; and that is—that I am + foredoomed; a reprobate and a cast-away; predestined—predestined—and + so I would not wish to drag him to hell along with me; I shall therefore + act the heroic part, and refuse him. Still it is something—oh it is + much—and I am proud of it, not only on my own account, but on his, + to be the most beautiful girl in Europe! I am proud of it, because he + would not marry if I were not.” + </p> + <p> + Oh unhappy, but affectionate mourners, what—what was all you had yet + suffered, when contrasted with the sudden and unexpected misery of this + bitter moment Your hearts had gathered in joy and happiness around the bed + of that sweet girl, the gleams of whose insanity you had mistaken for the + light of reason; and now has hope disappeared, and the darkness of utter + despair fallen upon you all for ever. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to rise,” she proceeded, “and to join the morning prayer; until + then I shall only dress in my wrapper: after that I shall dress as becomes + me. I know I have nothing to hope either in this world or the next, + consequently pride in me is not a sin: the measure of my misery has been + filled up; and the only interval, of happiness left me, is that between + this and death. Dress me, Agnes.” + </p> + <p> + The pause arising from the revulsion of feeling, occasioned by the + discovery of her settled insanity, was indeed an exemplification of that + grief which lies too deep for tears. Sone of them could weep, but they + looked upon her and each other, with a silent agony, which far transcended + the power of clamorous sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Children,” said her father, whose fortitude, considering the nature of + this his great affliction, was worthy of better days; “let us neither look + upon our beloved one, nor upon each other. There,” said he, pointing + upwards, “let us look there. You all know how I loved—how I love + her. You all know how she loved me; but I cast—or I strive to cast + the burthen, of my affliction upon Him who has borne all for our + salvation, and you see I am tearless. Dress the dear child, Agnes, and as + she desires it, let her join us at prayer, and may the Lord who has + afflicted us, hearken to our supplications!” + </p> + <p> + Tenderly and with trembling hands did Agnes dress the beloved girl, and + when the fair creature, supported by her two sisters, entered the parlor, + never was a more divine picture of beauty seen to shine out of that cloud, + with which the mysterious hand of of God had enveloped her. + </p> + <p> + At prayer she knelt as meekly, and with as much apparent devotion as she + had ever done in the days of her most rational and earnest piety. But it + was woful to see the blighted girl go through all the forms of worship, + when it was known that the very habit which actuated her resulted from + those virtues, which even insanity could not altogether repress. + </p> + <p> + When they had arisen from their, knees, she again addressed Agnes in a + tone of cheerful sweetness, such as she had exhibited in her happier days. + </p> + <p> + “Agnes, now for our task; and indeed you must perform it with care. + Remember that you are about to dress the most beautiful girl in Europe. + What a fair cast-away am I, Agnes?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not a cast-away, Jane; but I shall dress you with care and + tenderness, notwithstanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Every day I must dress in my best, because when Charles returns, you know + it will be necessary that I should justify his choice, by appearing as + beautiful as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Give the innocent her own way,” said her father; “give her, in all that + may gratify the child, her own way, where it is not directly wrong to do + so.” + </p> + <p> + Agnes and she then went up to her room, that she might indulge in that + harmless happiness, which the fiction of hope had, under the mercy of God, + extracted, from the reality of despair. + </p> + <p> + When the ceremony of the toilette was over, she and her sister returned to + the parlor, and they could notice a slight tinge of color added to her + pale cheek, by the proud consciousness of her beauty. The exertion, + however, she had undergone, considering her extremely weak and exhausted + state of of health was more than she could bear long. But a few minutes + had elapsed after her reappearance in the parlor, when she said— + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, I am unwell; I want to be undressed, and to go to bed; I am very + faint; help me to bed, mamma—and if you come and stay with me, I + shall tell you every thing about my prospects in life—yes, and in + death, too; because I have prospects in death—but ah,” she added, + shuddering, “they are dark—dark!” + </p> + <p> + Seldom, indeed, was a family tried like this family; and never was the + endurance of domestic love, and its triumph over the chilling habit of + affliction, more signally manifested than in the undying tenderness of + their hearts and hands, in all that was necessary to her comfort, or + demanded by the childish caprices of her malady. + </p> + <p> + On going upstairs, she kissed them all as usual, but they then discovered, + for the first time, in all its bitterness, what a dark and melancholy + enjoyment it is to kiss the lips of a maniac, who has loved us, and whom + we still must love. + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said William, struggling to be firm, “kiss me, too, before you + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to me, William,” said she, “for I am not able to go to you. Oh, my + brother, if I did not love you, I would be very wicked.” + </p> + <p> + The affectionate young man kissed her, and, as he did, the big tears + rolled down his cheeks. He wept aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I never, never gave her up till now,” he exclaimed; “but”—and his + face darkened into deep indignation as he spoke, “we shall see about it + yet, Jane dear. I shall allow a month or two—she may recover; but if + I suffer this to go unav——” he paused; “I meant nothing,” he + added, “except that I will not despair of her yet.” + </p> + <p> + About ten days restored her to something like health, but it was obvious + that her constitution had sustained a shock which it could not long + survive. Of this Dr. M’Cormick assured them. + </p> + <p> + “In so delicate a subject as she is,” he added, “we usually find that when + reason goes, the physical powers soon follow it. But if my opinion be + correct, I think you will have the consolation of seeing her mind clear + before she dies. There comes often in such cases what the common people + properly, and indeed beautifully, term a light before death, and I think + she will have it. As you are unanimous against putting her into a private + asylum, you must only watch the sweet girl quietly, and without any + appearance of vigilance, allowing her in all that is harmless and + indifferent to have her own way. Religious feeling you perceive + constitutes a strong feature in her case, the rest is obviously the result + of the faithless conduct of Osborne. Poor girl, here she comes, apparently + quite happy.” Jane entered as he spoke, after having been dressed as usual + for the day, in her best apparel. She glanced for a moment at the glass, + and readjusted her hair which had, she thought, got a little out of order; + after which she said, smiling, + </p> + <p> + “Why should I fear comparisons? He may come as soon as he pleases. I am + ready to receive him, but do you know I think that my papa and mamma are + not so fond of me as they ought to be. Is it not an honor to have for + their daughter a girl whose beauty is unsurpassed in Europe? I am not + proud of it for my own sake, but for his.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane, do you know this gentleman, dear?” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; that is Dr. M’Cormick.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see that your health is so much improved, my dear,” said the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes;” she replied, “I am quite well—that is so far as this world + is concerned; but for all so happy as I look, you would never guess that I + am reprobate. Now could you tell me, doctor, why it is that I look so + happy knowing as I do that I am foredoomed to misery?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “but you will tell us yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why it is because I do know it. Knowing the worst is often a great + consolation, I assure you. I, at least, have felt it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh what a noble mind is lost in that sweet girl!” exclaimed the worthy + physician. + </p> + <p> + “But it seems, mamma,” she proceeded, “there is a report gone abroad that + I am mad. I met yesterday—was it not yesterday, Agnes?—I met a + young woman down on the river side, and she asked me if it were true that + I was crazed with love, and how do you think I replied, mamma? I said to + her, ‘If you would avoid misery—misery, mark—never violate + truth even indirectly.’ I said that solemnly, and would have said more but + that Agnes rebuked her for speaking, and then wept. Did you not weep, + Agnes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no wonder I should,” replied her sister, deeply moved; “the interview + she alludes to, doctor, was one that occurred the day before yesterday + between her and another poor girl in the neighborhood who is also + unsettled, owing to a desertion of a still baser kind. It was becoming too + affecting to listen to, and I chid the poor thing off.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, she chid her off, and the poor thing as she told me, about + to be a bride to-morrow. She said she was in quest of William that they + might be married, and asked me if I had seen him. If you do, she added, + tell him that Fanny is waiting for him, and that as everything is ready + she expects he’ll come and marry her to-morrow as he promised. Now, mamma, + Agnes said, that although she chid her, she wept for her, but why should + you weep, Agnes, for a girl who is about to become a bride to-morrow? + Surely you did not weep because she was going to be made happy? Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “All who are going to become brides are not about to experience happiness, + my dear,” replied her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should think so certainly, Agnes,” replied Jane. “Fie, fie, dear + sister Agnes, do not lay down such doctrine. Did you not see the happy + girl we met yesterday—was it yesterday? But no matter, Agnes, we + shall not quarrel about it. Come and walk. Good-by, my mamma; doctor, I + wish you a good morning,” and with a grace that was inimitable, she made + him a distant, but most respectful curtsey. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said she, turning back, “if any stranger should arrive during my + absence, mamma, send for me immediately; or stay do not—let him meet + me at the place appointed; I will be there.” + </p> + <p> + She then took Agnes’s arm, for Agnes it was who attended her in all her + ramblings, and both proceeded on their every-day saunter through the + adjoining fields. + </p> + <p> + A little time, indeed, proved how very accurate had been the opinion of + Dr. M’Cormick; for although Jane was affected by no particular bodily + complaint, yet it appeared by every day’s observation that she was + gradually sinking. In the meantime, three or four months elapsed without + bringing about any symptom whatsoever of improvement. Her derangement + flashed out into no extraordinary paroxysm, but on the contrary assumed a + wild and graceful character, sometimes light and unsettled as the glancing + of sunbeams on a disturbed current, and occasionally pensive and beautiful + as the beams of an autumnal moon. In all the habits of the family she was + most exact. Her devotional composure at prayer appeared to be fraught with + the humblest piety; her attendance at Meeting was remarkably punctual, and + her deportment edifying to an extreme degree. The history, too, of her + insanity and its cause had gone far and wide, as did the sympathy which it + excited. In all her innocent ramblings with Agnes around her father’s + house, and through the adjoining fields, no rude observation or unmannered + gaze ever offended the gentle creature; but on the contrary, the + delicate-minded peasant of the north would often turn aside from an + apprehension of disturbing her, as well perhaps as out of reverence for + the calamity of a creature so very young and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, many affecting observations were made, which, could her friends + have heard them, would have fallen like balm upon their broken spirits. + Full of compassion they were for her sore misfortune, and of profound + sympathy for the sorrows of her family. + </p> + <p> + “Alas the day, my bonnie lady! My Heart is sair to see sae lovely a thing + gliding about sae unhappy. Black be his gate that had the heart to leave + you, for rank and wealth, my winsome lassie. Weary on him, and little good + may his wealth and rank do him! Oh wha would a thocht that the peerless + young blossom wad hae been withered so soon, or that the Fawn o’ + Springvale wad hae ever come to the like o’ this. Alas! the day, too, for + the friends that nurst you, Ay bonnie bairn!” and then the kind-hearted + matron would wipe her eyes on seeing the far-loved Fawn of Springvale + passing by, unconscious that the fatal arrow which had first struck her + was still quivering in her side. The fourth month had now elapsed, and + Jane’s malady neither exhibited any change nor the slightest symptom of + improvement. William, who had watched her closely all along, saw that no + hope of any such consummation existed. He remarked, too, with a bitter + sense of the unprincipled injury inflicted on the confiding girl, that + every week drew her perceptibly nearer and nearer to the grave. His blood + had in fact long been boiling in his veins with an indignation which he + could scarcely stifle. He entertained, however, a strong reverence for + religion, and had Jane, after a reasonable period, recovered, he intended + to leave Osborne to be punished only by his own remorse. There was no + prospect, however, of her being restored to reason, and now his + determination was finally taken. Nay, so deeply resolved had he been on + this as an ultimate step in the event of her not recovering, that soon + after Mr. Osborne’s return from London, he waited on that gentleman, and + declared his indignation at the treachery of his son to be so deep and + implacable that he requested of him as a personal favor, to suspend all + communication with the unhappy girl’s family, lest he might be tempted + even by the sight of any person connected with so base a man, to go and + pistol him on whatever spot he might be able to find him. This, which was + rather harsh to the amiable gentleman, excited in his breast more of + sorrow than resentment. But it happened fortunately enough for both + parties that a day or two before this angry communication, Dr. M’Cormick + had waited upon the latter, and gave it as his opinion that any + intercourse between the two families would be highly dangerous to Jane’s + state of mind, by exciting associations that might bring back to her + memory the conduct of his son. The consequence was, that they saw each + other only by accident, although Mr. Osborne often sent to inquire + privately after Jane’s health. + </p> + <p> + William having now understood that Osborne and his wife resided in Paris, + engaged a friend to accompany him thither, for the purpose of demanding + satisfaction for the injuries inflicted on his sister. All the necessary + arrangements were accordingly made; the very day for their departure was + appointed, and a letter addressed to Agnes actually written, to relieve + the family from the alarm occasioned by his disappearance, when a + communication from Osborne to his father, at once satisfied the indignant + young man that his enemy was no longer an object for human resentment. + </p> + <p> + This requires but brief explanation. Osborne, possessing as he did, + ambition, talent, and enthusiasm in a high degree, was yet deficient in + that firmness of purpose which is essential to distinction in public or + private life. His wife was undoubtedly both beautiful and accomplished, + and it is undeniable that his marriage with her opened to him brilliant + prospects as a public man. Notwithstanding her beauty, however, their + union took place not to gratify his love, but his ambition. Jane Sinclair, + in point of fact, had never been displaced from his affection, for as she + was in his eye the most beautiful, so was she in the moments of + self-examination, the best beloved. This, however, availed the unhappy + girl but little, with a man in whose character ambition was the + predominant impulse. To find himself beloved by a young and beautiful + woman of wealth and fashion was too much for one who possessed but little + firmness and an insatiable thirst after distinction. To jostle men of rank + and property out of his path, and to jostle them successfully, when + approaching the heart of an heiress, was too much for the vanity of an + obscure young man, with only a handsome person and good talents to + recommend him. The glare of fashionable life, and the unexpected success + of his addresses made him giddy, and despite an ineffaceable conviction of + dishonor and treachery, he found himself husband to a rich heiress, and + son-in-law to a baronet. And now was he launched in fall career upon the + current of fashionable dissipation, otherwise called high life. This he + might have borne as well as the other votaries of polished profligacy, + were it not for one simple consideration—he had neither health nor + constitution, nor, to do the early lover of Jane Sinclair justice, heart + for the modes and habits of that society, through the vortices of which he + now found himself compelled to whirl. He was not, in fact, able to keep + pace with the rapid motions of his fashionable wife, and the result in a + very short time was, that their hearts were discovered to be anything but + congenial—in fact anything but united. The absence of domestic + happiness joined to that remorse which his conduct towards the unassuming + but beautiful object of his first affection entailed upon a heart that, + notwithstanding its errors, was incapable of foregoing its own + convictions, soon broke down the remaining stamina of his constitution, + and before the expiration of three months, he found himself hopelessly + smitten by the same disease which had been so fatal to his family. His + physicians told him that if there were any chance of his recovery, it must + be in the efficacy of his native air; and his wife, with fashionable + apathy, expressed the same opinion, and hoped that he might, after a + proper sojourn at home, be enabled to join her early in the following + season at Naples. Up to this period he had heard nothing of the mournful + consequences which his perfidy had produced upon the intellect of our + unhappy Jane. His father, who in fact still entertained hopes of her + ultimate sanity, now that his son was married, deemed it unnecessary to + embitter his peace by a detail of the evils he had occasioned her. But + when, like her brother William, he despaired of her recovery, he + considered it only an act of justice towards her and her family to lay + before Charles the hideousness of his guilt together with its woful + consequences. This melancholy communication was received by him the day + after his physicians had given him over, for in fact the prescription of + his native air was only a polite method of telling him that there was no + hope. His conscience, which recent circumstances had already awakened, was + not prepared for intelligence so dreadful. Remorse, or rather repentance + seized him, and he wrote to beg that his father would suffer a penitent + son to come home to die. + </p> + <p> + This letter, the brief contents of which we have given, his father + submitted to Mr. Sinclair, whose reply was indeed characteristic of the + exalted Christian, who can forget his own injury in the distress of his + enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come,” said the old man; “our resentments have long since passed + away, and why should not yours? He has now a higher interest to look to + than any arising from either love or ambition. His immortal soul is at + stake, and if we can reconcile him to heaven, the great object of + existence will after all be secured. God forbid that our injuries should + stand in the way of his salvation. Allow me,” he added, “to bring this + letter home, that I may read it to my family, with one exception of + course. Alas! it contains an instructive lesson.” + </p> + <p> + This was at once acceded to by the other, and they separated. + </p> + <p> + When William heard the particulars of Osborne’s melancholy position, he of + course gave up the hostility of his purpose, and laid before his friend a + history of the circumstances connected with his brief and unhappy career. + </p> + <p> + “He is now a dying man,” said William, “to whom this life, its idle forms + and unmeaning usages, are as nothing, or worse than nothing. A higher + tribunal than the guilty spirit of this world’s honor will demand + satisfaction from him for his baseness towards unhappy Jane. To that + tribunal I leave him; but whether he live or die, I will never look upon + my insane sister, without thinking of him as a villain, and detesting his + very name and memory.” + </p> + <p> + If these sentiments be considered ungenerous, let it be remembered that + they manifested less his resentment to Osborne, than the deep and elevated + affection which he bore his sister, for whose injuries he felt much more + indignantly than he would have done for his own. + </p> + <p> + Jane, however, from this period forth began gradually to break down, and + her derangement, though still inoffensive and harmless, assumed a more + anxious and melancholy expression. This might arise, to be sure, from the + depression of spirits occasioned by a decline of health. But from whatever + cause it proceeded, one thing was evident, that an air of deep dejection + settled upon her countenance and whole deportment. She would not, for + instance, permit Agnes in their desultory rambles to walk by her side, but + besought her to attend at a distance behind her. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to be alone, dear Agnes,” she said, “but notwithstanding that, I + do not wish to be without you. I might have been some time ago the Queen + of beauty, but now, Agnes, I am the Queen of Sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You have had your share of sorrow, my poor stricken creature,” replied + Agnes, heavily. + </p> + <p> + “But there is, Agnes, a melancholy beauty in sorrow—it is so sweet + to be sad. Did. you ever see a single star in the sky, Agnes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, love, often.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is like sorrow, or rather that is like me. Does it not always + seem to mourn, and to mourn alone, but the moment that another star arises + then the spell is broken, and it seems no more to mourn in the solitude of + heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Agnes looked at her with sad but earnest admiration, and exclaimed in a + quivering-voice as she pressed her to her bosom, + </p> + <p> + “Oh Jane, Jane, how my heart loves you!—the day is coming, my sister—our + sweetest, our youngest, our dearest—the day is coming when we will + see you no more—when your sorrows and your joys, whether real or + imaginary—when all the unsettled evidences of goodness, which + nothing could destroy, will be gone; and you with all you’ve suffered—with + all your hopes and fears, will be no longer present for our hearts to + gather about. Oh my sister, my sister! how will the old man live! He will + not—he will not. We see already that he suffers, and what it costs + him to be silent. His gait is feeble and infirm is and head bent since + the’ hand of afiliction has come upon you. Yet, Jane, Jane, we could bear + all, provided you were permitted to remain with us! Your voice—your + voice—and is the day so soon to come when we will not hear it? when + our eyes will no more rest upon you? And”—added the affectionate + girl, now overcome by her feelings, laying her calm sister’s head at the + same time upon her bosom, “and when those locks so brown and rich that + your Agnes’s hands have so often dressed, will be mouldering in the grave, + and that face—oh, the seal of death is upon your pale, pale cheek, + my sister!—my sister!” She could say no more, but kissed Jane’s + lips, and pressing her to her heart, she wept in a long fit of + irrepressible grief. + </p> + <p> + Jane looked up with a pensive gaze into Agnes’s face, and as she calmly + dried her sister’s tears, said:— + </p> + <p> + “Is it not strange, Agnes, that I who am the Queen of Sorrow cannot weep. + I resemble some generous princess, who though rich, gives away her wealth + to the needy in such abundance that she is always poor herself. I who weep + not, supply you all with tears, and cannot find one for myself when I want + it. Indeed so it seems, my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, indeed, Jane—too true, too true, my darling.” + </p> + <p> + “Agnes, I could tell you a secret. It is not without reason that I am the + Queen of Sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, it is not, my sweet innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the secret here,” said she, putting her hand to her bosom, “and no + one suspects that I have. The cause why I am the Queen of Sorrow is indeed + here—here. But come, I do not much like this arbor somehow. There + is, I think, a reason for it, but I forget it. Let us walk elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + This was the arbor of osiers in which Osborne in the enthusiasm of his + passion, said that if during his travels he found a girl more beautiful, + he would cease to love Jane, and to write to her—an expression + which, as the reader knows, exercised afterwards a melancholy power upon + her intellect. + </p> + <p> + Agnes and she proceeded as she desired, to saunter about, which they did + for the most part in silence, except when she wished to stop and make an + observation of her own free will. Her step was slow, her face pale, and + her gait, alas, quite feeble, and evidently that of a worn frame and a + broken heart. + </p> + <p> + For some time past, she seemed to have forgotten that she was a foredoomed + creature, and a cast-away, at least her allusions to this were less + frequent than before—a circumstance which Dr. M’Cormick said he + looked upon as the most favorable symptom he had yet seen in her case. + </p> + <p> + Upon this day, however, she sauntered about in silence, and passed from + place to place, followed by Agnes; like the waning moon, accompanied by + her faithful and attendant star. + </p> + <p> + After having passed a green field, she came upon the road with an + intention of crossing it, and going down by the river to the yew tree, + which during all her walks she never failed to visit. Here it was that, + for the second time, she met poor Fanny Morgan, the unsettled victim of + treachery more criminal still than that which had been practised upon + herself. + </p> + <p> + “You are the bonnie Fawn of Springvale that’s gone mad with love,” said + the unhappy creature. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied Jane, “you are mistaken. I am the Queen of Sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I am to be married to-morrow,” said the other. “Everything’s ready, but I + can’t find William. Did you see him? But maybe you may, and if you do—oh + speak a word for me, but one word, and tell him that all’s ready, and that + Fanny’s waiting, and that he must not break his promise.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very happy to be married tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other smiling—“I am happy enough now; but when we + are married—when William makes me his wife, people won’t look down + on me any longer. I wish I could find him, for oh, my heart is sick, and + will be sick, until I see him. If he knew how I was treated, he would not + suffer it. If you see him, will you promise to tell him that all’s ready, + and that I am waiting for him?—Will you, my bonnie lady?” + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you a secret,” said Jane—“they don’t know at home that + I got the letter at all—but I did, and have read it—he is + coming home—coming home to die—that’s what makes me the Queen + of Sorrow. Do you ever weep?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but they took the baby from me, and beat me—my brother John + did; but William was not near to take my part?” + </p> + <p> + “Who will you have at the wedding?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no bride’s maid yet—but may be you would be that for me, my + bonnie lady. John said I disgraced them; but surely I only loved William. + I wish to-morrow was past, and that he would remove my shame—I could + then be proud, but now I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you ashamed of? It is no shame to love him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, and all would be well enough, but that they beat me and took away + the baby—my brother John did.” + </p> + <p> + “But did William ever swear to you, that if he mot a girl more beautiful, + he would cease to love you, and to write to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he promised to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you know why he does not?” + </p> + <p> + “If I could, find him he would. Oh, if you see him, will you tell him that + I’m waiting, and that all’s ready?” + </p> + <p> + “You,” said Jane, “have been guilty of a great sin.” + </p> + <p> + “So they said, and that I brought myself to shame too. But William will + take away that if I could find him.” + </p> + <p> + “You told an indirect falsehood to your father—you concealed the + truth—and now the hand of God is upon you. There is nothing for you + now but death.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like death—it took away my baby—if they would give me + back my baby I would not care—-except John—I would hide from + him.” + </p> + <p> + “William’s married to another and dying, so that you may become a queen of + sorrow too—would you like that—sorrow is a sweet thing.” + </p> + <p> + “How could he marry another, and be promised to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your heart cold?” inquired Jane. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other smiling, “indeed I am to be married to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see you early in the morning,” said Jane—“if you do, perhaps + I may give you this,” showing the letter. “Your heart cannot be cold if + you keep it—I carry it here,” said she, putting her hand to her + bosom—“but I need not, for mine will be warm enough soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine’s warm enough too,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “If William comes, you will find poison on his lips,” said Jane, “and that + will kill you—the poison of polluted lips would kill a thousand + faithful hearts—it, would—and there is nothing for treachery + but sorrow. Be sorrowful—be sorrowful—it is the only thing to + ease a deserted heart—it eases mine.” + </p> + <p> + “But then they say you’re crazed with love.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—with sorrow; but listen, never violate truth—never be + guilty of falsehood; if you do, you will become unhappy; and if you do + not, the light of God’s countenance will shine upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is no lie, for as sure as you stand there to-morrow is the + day.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I love you,” said the gentle and affectionate Jane. “Will you + kiss me? my sister Agnes does when I ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t I, my bonnie, bonnie lady? Why shouldn’t I? Oh! indeed, but + you are bonnie, and yet be crazed with love! Well, well, he will never + comb a gray head that deserted the bonnie Fawn of Spring-vale.” + </p> + <p> + Jane, who was much the taller, stooped, and with a smile of melancholy, + but unconscious sympathy, kissed the forlorn creature’s lips, and after + beckoning Agnes to follow her, passed on. + </p> + <p> + That embrace! Who could describe its character? Oh! man, man, and woman, + woman, think of this! + </p> + <p> + Agnes, after Jane and she had returned home, found that a search had been + instigated during their absence for the letter which Charles had written + to his father. Mr. Sinclair, anxious to return it, had missed it from + among his papers, and felt seriously concerned at its disappearance. + </p> + <p> + “I only got it to read to the family,” said he, “and what am I to say, or + what can I say, when Mr. Osborne asks me, as he will, to return it? Agnes, + do you know anything of it?” + </p> + <p> + Agnes, who, from the interview between Jane and the unsettled Fanny + Morgan, saw at once that it had got, by some means unknown to the family, + into her sister’s hands, knew not exactly in what terms to reply. She saw + too, that Jane looked upon the possession of the letter as a secret, and + in her presence she felt that considering her sister’s view of the matter, + and her state of mind, she could not, without pressing too severely on the + gentle creature’s sorrow, inform her father of the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said the admirable and considerate girl, “the letter I have no + doubt will be found. I beg of you papa, I beg of you not to be uneasy + about it; it will be found.” + </p> + <p> + This she said in a tone as significant as possible, with a hope that her + father might infer from her manner that Jane had the letter in question. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at Agnes, and appeared as if striving to collect the + meaning of what she said, but he was not long permitted to remain in any + doubt upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + Jane approached him slowly, and putting her hand to her bosom, took out + the letter and placed it upon the table before him. + </p> + <p> + “It came from him,” said she, “and that was the reason why I put it next + my heart. You know, papa, he is dying, and this letter is a message of + death. I thought that such a message was more proper from him to me than + to any one else. I have carried it next my heart, and you may take it now, + papa. The message has been delivered, and I feel that death is here—for + that is all that he and it have left me. I am the star of sorrow—Pale + and mournful in the lonely sky; yet,” she added as she did on another + occasion, “we shall not all die, but we shall be changed.” + </p> + <p> + “My sweet child,” said Mr. Sinclair, “I am not angry with, you about the + letter; I only wish you to keep your spirits up, and not be depressed so + much as you are.” She appeared quite exhausted, and replied not for some + time; at length she said: + </p> + <p> + “Papa, mamma, have I done anything wrong? If I have tell me. Oh, Agnes, + Agnes, but my heart is heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as heaven is above us, Henry,” whispered her mother to Mr. + Sinclair, “she is upon the point of being restored to her senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear,” he replied, “who can tell? It may happen as you say. Oh + how I shall bless God if it does! but still, what, what will it be but, as + Dr. M’Cormick said, the light before death? The child is dying, and she + will be taken from us for ever, for ever!” + </p> + <p> + Jane, whilst they spoke, looked earnestly and with a struggling eye into + the countenances of those who were about her; but again she smiled + pensively, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am—I am the star of sorrow, pale and mournful in the lonely sky. + Jane Sinclair is no more—the Fawn of Springvale is no more—I + am now nothing but sorrow. I was the queen, but now I am the star of + sorrow. Oh! how I long to set in heaven!” + </p> + <p> + She was then removed to bed, whore with her mother and her two sisters + beside her, she lay quiet as a child, repeating to herself—“I am the + star of sorrow, pale and mournful in the lonely sky; but now I know that I + will soon set in heaven. Jane Sinclair is no more—the Fawn of + Springvale is no more. No—I am now the star of sorrow!” The + melancholy beauty of the sentiment seemed to soothe her, for she continued + to repeat these words, sometimes aloud and sometimes in a sweet voice, + until she fell gently asleep. + </p> + <p> + “She is asleep,” said Agnes, looking upon her still beautiful but mournful + features, now, indeed composed into an expression of rooted sorrow. They + all stood over the bed, and looked upon her for many minutes. At length + Agnes clasped her hands, and with a suffocating voice, as if her heart + would break, exclaimed, “Oh mother, mother,” and rushed from the room that + she might weep aloud without awakening the afflicted one who slept. + </p> + <p> + Another week made a rapid change upon her for the worse, and it was + considered necessary to send for Dr. M’Cormick, as from her feebleness and + depression they feared that her dissolution was by no means distant, + especially as she had for the last three days been confined to her bed. + The moment he saw her, his opinion confirmed their suspicions. + </p> + <p> + “Deal gently with her now,” said he; “a fit or a paroxysm of any kind + would be fatal to her. The dear girl’s unhappy race is run—her sands + are all but numbered. This moment her thread of life is not stronger than + a gossamer.” Ere his departure on that occasion, he brought Mr. Sinclair + aside and thus addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware, sir, that Mr. Osborne’s son has returned.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that he has actually returned,” replied Mr. Sinclair, “but I know + that he is daily expected.” + </p> + <p> + “He reached his father’s house,” continued the doctor, “early yesterday; + and such a pitiable instance of remorse as he is I have never seen, and I + hope never shall. His cry is to see your daughter, that he may hear his + forgiveness from her own lips. He says he cannot die in hope or in + happiness, unless she pardons him. This, however, must not be—I mean + an interview between them—for it would most assuredly prove fatal to + himself; and should she see him only for a moment, that moment were her + last.” + </p> + <p> + “I will visit the unhappy young man myself,” said her father; “as for an + interview it cannot be thought of—even if they could bear it, + Charles forgets that he is the husband of another woman, and that, + consequently, Jane is nothing to him—and that such a meeting would + be highly—grossly improper.” + </p> + <p> + “Your motives, though perfectly just, are different from mine,” said the + doctor—“I speak merely as a medical man. He wants not this to hurry + him into the grave—he will be there soon enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him feel repentance towards God,” said the old man heavily—“towards + my child it is now unavailing. It is my duty, as it shall be my endeavor, + to fix this principle in his heart.” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor then departed, having promised to see Jane on the next day but + one. This gentleman’s opinion, however, with respect to his beautiful + patient, was not literally correct; still, although she lingered longer + than could naturally be anticipated from her excessive weakness, yet he + was right in saying that her thread of life resembled, that of the + gossamer. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the same evening, she gave the first symptom of a lucid + interval; still in point of fact her mind was never wholly restored to + sanity. She had slept long and soundly, and after awaking rang the bell + for some one to come to her. This was unusual, and in a moment she was + attended by Agnes and her mother. + </p> + <p> + “I am very weak, my dear mamma,” said she, “and although I cannot say that + I feel any particular complaint—I speak of a bodily one—yet I + feel that my strength is gone, and that you will not be troubled with your + poor Jane much longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not think so, dear love, do not think so,” replied her mother; “bear + up, my darling, bear up, and all may yet be well.” + </p> + <p> + “Agnes,” said she, “come to me. I know not—perhaps—dear Agnes——” + </p> + <p> + She could utter no more. Agnes flew to her, and they wept in each other’s + arms for many minutes. + </p> + <p> + “I would be glad to see my papa,” she said, “and my dear Maria and + William. Oh mamma, mamma, I suspect that I have occasioned you all much + sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no—but more joy now, my heart’s own treasure, a thousand + times more joy than you ever occasioned us of sorrow. Do not think it, oh, + do not think it.” + </p> + <p> + Her father, who had just returned from visiting Charles Osborne, now + entered her bedroom, accompanied by William and his two daughters—for + Agnes had flown to inform them of the happy turn which had taken place in + Jane’s malady. When he entered, she put her white but wasted hand out, and + raised her head to kiss him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear papa,” said she, “it is so long, I think, since I have seen you; + and Maria, too. Oh, dear Maria, come to me—but you must not weep, + dear sister. Alas, Maria,”—for the poor girl wept bitterly—“Oh, + my I sister, but your heart is good and loving. William”—she kissed + him, and looking tenderly into his face, said, + </p> + <p> + “Why, oh, why are you all in tears? Imitate my papa, dear William. I am so + glad to see you! Papa, I have been—I fear I have been—but, + indeed, I remember when I dreaded as much. My heart, my heart is heavy + when I think of all the grief and affliction I must have occasioned you; + but you will all forgive your poor Jane, for you know she would not do so + if she could avoid it. Papa, how pale and careworn you look! as, indeed, + you all do. Oh, God help me. I see, I see—I read on your sorrowful + faces the history of all you have suffered on my account.” + </p> + <p> + They all cherished, and petted, and soothed the sweet creature; and, + indeed, rejoiced over her as if she had been restored to them from the + dead. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, would you get me the Bible,” she continued. “I wish if possible to + console you and the rest; and mamma, you will think when I am gone of that + which I am about to show you; think of it all of you, for indeed an early + death is sometimes a great blessing to those who are taken away. Alas! who + can say when it is not?” + </p> + <p> + They assisted her to sit up in the bed, and after turning over the leaves + of the Bible, she read in a voice of low impressive melody the first verse + of the fifty-seventh chapter of Isaiah. + </p> + <p> + “The righteous perisheth, and no man taketh it to heart; and merciful men + are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the + evil to come. He SHALL ENTER INTO PEACE.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! many a death,” she continued, “is wept for and lamented by friends + and relatives, who consider not that those for whom they weep may be taken + away from the evil to come. I feel that I am unable to speak much, but it + is your Jane’s request, that the consolation to be found, not only in this + passage, but in this book, may be applied to your hearts when I am gone.” + </p> + <p> + This effort, slight as it was, enfeebled her much, and she lay silent for + some time; and such was their anxiety, neither to excite nor disturb her, + that although their hearts were overflowing they restrained themselves, so + far as to permit no startling symptoms of grief to be either seen or + heard. After a little time, however, she spoke again:—- + </p> + <p> + “My poor bird,” said she, “I fear I have neglected it. Dear Agnes would + you let me see it—I long to see it.” Agnes in a few minutes returned + and placed the bird in her bosom. She caressed it for a short time, and + then looking at it earnestly said— + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, that you too, my Ariel, are drooping?” + </p> + <p> + This indeed was true. The bird had been for some time past as feeble and + delicate as if its fate were bound up with that of its unhappy mistress—whether + it was that the sight of it revived some recollection that disturbed her, + or whether this brief interval of reason was as much as exhausted nature + could afford on one occasion, it is difficult to say; but the fact is, + that after looking on it for some time, she put her hand to her bosom and + asked, “Where, where is the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “What letter, my darling?” said her father. + </p> + <p> + “Is not Charles unhappy and dying?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “He is ill, my love,” said her father, “but not dying, we trust.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not here,” she said, searching her bosom, “it is not here—but + it matters nothing now—it was a message of death, and the message + has been delivered. Sorrow—sorrow—sorrow—how beautiful + is that word—there is but one other in the language that surpasses + it, and that is mourn. Oh! how beautiful is that too—how delicately + expressive. Weep is violent; but mourn, the graduated tearless grief that + wastes gently—that disappoints death, for we die not but only cease + to be. I am the star of sorrow, pale and mournful in the lonely sky—well, + that is one consolation—when I set I shall set in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + They knew by experience that any attempt at comfort would then produce + more evil than good. For near two hours she uttered to herself in a low + chant, “I am the star of sorrow, etc.,” after which she sank as before + into a profound slumber. + </p> + <p> + Her intervals of reason, as death approached, were mercifully extended. + Whilst they lasted, nothing could surpass the noble standard of Christian + duty by which her feelings and moral sentiments were regulated. For a + fortnight after this, she sank with such a certain but imperceptible + approximation towards death that the eyes even of affection could, + scarcely notice the gradations of its approach. + </p> + <p> + During this melancholy period, her father was summoned upon an occasion + which was strongly calculated to try the sincerity of his Christian + professions. Not a day passed that he did not forget his own sorrows, and + the reader knows how heavily they pressed upon him—in order to + prepare the mind of his daughter’s destroyer for the awful change which + death was about to open upon his soul. He reasoned—he prayed—he + wept—he triumphed—yes, he triumphed, nor did he ever leave the + death-bed of Charles Osborne, until he had succeeded in fixing his heart + upon that God “who willeth not the death of a sinner.” + </p> + <p> + A far heavier trial upon the Christian’s fortitude, however, was soon to + come upon him. Jane, as the reader knows, was now at the very portals of + heaven. For hours in the day—she was perfectly rational; but again + she would wander into her chant of sorrow,—as much from weakness as + from the original cause of her malady; for upon this it is difficult if + not impossible to determine. + </p> + <p> + On the last evening, however, that her father ever attended Charles + Osborne, he came home as usual, and was about to inquire how Jane felt, + when Maria come to him with eyes which weeping had made red, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Oh papa—I fear—we all fear, that—I cannot utter it—I + cannot—I cannot—Oh papa, at last the hour we fear is come.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, my child, that you are speaking,” said this heroic Christian, + “remember that you are speaking to a Christian father, who will not set up + his affections, nor his weaknesses, nor his passions against the will of + God.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but papa—Jane, Jane”—she burst into bitter tears for more + than a minute, and then added—“Jane, papa, is dying—leaving us + at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Maria,” said he, calmly, “leave me for some minutes. You know not, dear + child, what my struggles have been. Leave me now—this is the trial I + fear—and now must I, and so must you all—but now must I——Oh, + leave me, leave me.” + </p> + <p> + He knelt down and prayed; but in less than three, minutes, Agnes, armed + with affection—commanding and absolute it was from that loving + sister—came to him. + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his arm, and pressed it. “Papa!”— + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” said he, “she is going; but, Agnes, we must be Christians.” + </p> + <p> + “We must be sisters, papa; and ah, papa, surely, surely this is a moment + in which the father may forget the Christian. Jesus wept for a stranger; + what would He not have done for a brother or a sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Agnes, Agnes,” said he, in a tone of sorrow, inexpressibly deep, “is this + taxing me with want of affection for—for—” + </p> + <p> + She flung herself upon his breast. “Oh, papa, forgive me, forgive me—I + am not capable of appreciating the high and holy principles from which you + act. Forgive me; and surely if you ever forgave me on any occasion, you + will on this.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Agnes,” said he, “you scarcely ever required my forgiveness, and + less now than! ever—even if you had. Come—I will go; and may + the Lord support and strengthen us all! Your mother—our poor + mother!” + </p> + <p> + On entering the room of the dying girl, they found her pale cheek laid + against that of her other parent, whose arms were about her, as if she + would hold them in love and tenderness for ever. When she saw them + approach, she raised her head feebly, and said—“Is that my papa? my + beloved papa?” The old man raised his eyes once more to heaven for support—but + for upwards of half a minute the muscles of his face worked with power + that evinced the full force of what he suffered— + </p> + <p> + “I am here, I am here,” he at length said, with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “And that is Agnes?” she inquired. “Agnes, come near me; and do not be + angry, dear Agnes that I die on mamma’s bosom and not on yours.” + </p> + <p> + Agnes could only seize her pale hand and bathe it in tears. “Angry with + you—you living angel—oh, who ever was, or could be, my + sister!” + </p> + <p> + “You all love me too much,” she said. “Maria, it grieves me to see your + grief so excessive—William, oh why, why will you weep so? Is it + because I am about to leave the pains and sorrows of this unhappy life, + and; to enter into peace, that you all grieve thus bitterly. Believe me—and + I know this will relieve my papa’s heart—and all your hearts—will + it not yours, my mamma?—it is this—your Jane, your own Jane is + not afraid to die. Her hopes are fixed on the Rock of Ages—the Rock + of her salvation. I know, indeed, that my brief existence has been marked + at its close with care and sorrow; but these cares and sorrows have + brought me the sooner to that place where all tears shall be wiped from my + eyes. Let my fate, too, be a warning to young creatures like myself, never + to suffer their affection for any object to overmaster their sense and + their reason. I cherished the passion of my heart too much, when I ought + to have checked and restrained it—and now, what is the consequence? + Why, that I go down in the very flower of my youth to an early grave.” + </p> + <p> + Agnes caught the dear girl’s hands when she had concluded, and looking + with a breaking heart into her face, said— + </p> + <p> + “And oh, my sister, my sister, are you leaving us—are you leaving us + for ever, my sister? Life will be nothing to me, my Jane, without you—how, + how will your Agnes live?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt we are only disturbing—our cherished one,” said her father. + “Let our child’s last moments be calm—and her soul—oh let it + not be drawn back from its hopes, to this earth and its affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, pray for me, and they will join with you—pray for your poor + Jane while it is yet time—the prayer of the righteous availeth + much.” + </p> + <p> + Earnest, indeed, and melancholy, was that last prayer offered up on behalf + of the departing girl. When it was concluded there was a short silence, as + if they wished not to break in upon what they considered the aspirations + of the dying sufferer. At length the mother thought she felt her child’s + cheek press against her own with a passive weight that alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “Jane, my love,” said she, “do you not feel your soul refreshed by your + father’s prayer?” + </p> + <p> + No answer was returned to this, and on looking more closely at her + countenance of sorrow, they found that her gentle spirit had risen on the + incense of her father’s prayer to heaven. The mother clasped her hands, + whilst the head of her departed daughter still lay upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Oh God! oh God!” said she, “our idol is gone—is gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” exclaimed the old man; “now, oh Lord, surely—surely the + father’s grief may be allowed,” and he burst, as he spoke, into a paroxysm + of uncontrollable sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “And what am I to do—who am—oh woe—woe—who was her + mother?” + </p> + <p> + To the scene that ensued, what pen could do justice—we cannot, and + consequently leave it to the imagination of our readers, whose indulgence + we crave for our many failures and errors in the conduct of this + melancholy story. + </p> + <p> + Thus passed the latter days of the unhappy Jane Sinclair, of whose life + nothing more appropriate need be said, than that which she herself uttered + immediately before her death: + </p> + <p> + “Let my fate be a warning to young creatures like myself, never to suffer + their affection for any object to overmaster their sense and their reason. + I cherished the passion of my heart too much, when I ought to have checked + and restrained it—and now, what is the consequence? Why, that I go + down in the very flower of my youth to an early grave.” + </p> + <p> + On the day after her dissolution, an incident occurred, which threw the + whole family into renewed sorrow:—Early that morning, Ariel, her + dove, was found dead upon her bosom, as she lay out in the composure of + death. + </p> + <p> + “Remove it not,” said her father; “it shall be buried with her;” and it + was accordingly placed upon her bosom in the coffin. + </p> + <p> + Seldom was a larger funeral train seen, than that which attended her + remains to the grave-yard; and rarely was sorrow so deeply felt for any + being so young and so unhappy, as that which moved all hearts for the fate + of the beautiful but unfortunate Jane Sinclair—the far-famed Fawn of + Springvale. + </p> + <p> + One other fact we have to record: Jane’s funeral had arrived but a few + minutes at the grave, when another funeral train appeared slowly + approaching the place of death. It was that of Charles Osborne! + </p> + <p> + The last our readers may have anticipated. From the day of Jane’s death + the heart of the old man gradually declined. He looked about him in vain + for his beloved one. Night and day her name was never out of his mouth. It + is true he prayed, he read, he availed himself of all that the pious + exercises of a Christian man could contribute to the alleviation of his + sorrow. But it was in vain. In vain did his wife, son, and daughters + strive to soothe and console him. The old man’s heart was broken. His + beloved one was gone, and he felt that he could not remain behind her. A + gradual decay of bodily strength, and an utter breaking down of his + spirits, brought about the consummation which they all dreaded. At the + expiration of four months and a half, the old man was laid in the same + grave that contained his beloved one—and he was happy. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jane Sinclair; Or, The Fawn Of +Springvale, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANE SINCLAIR *** + +***** This file should be named 16005-h.htm or 16005-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/0/16005/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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