the Seine, feasting their eyes with the beauties of nature and art
which fringed the shores. The pale cheek of the dying wife became
flushed with animation as she once again breathed the invigorating air
of the country, and the daughter beguiled her fears with the delusive
hope that it was the flush of returning health. When they reached
their home, Madame Phlippon, fatigued with the excursion, retired to
her chamber for rest. Jane, accompanied by her maid, went to the
convent to call upon her old friends the nuns. She made a very short
call.

"Why are you in such haste?" inquired Sister Agatha.

"I am anxious to return to my mother."

"But you told me that she was better."

"She is much better than usual. But I have a strange feeling of
solicitude about her. I shall not feel easy until I see her again."

She hurried home, and was met at the door by a little girl, who
informed her that her mother was very dangerously ill. She flew to the
room, and found her almost lifeless. Another stroke of paralysis had
done its work, and she was dying. She raised her languid eyes to her
child, but her palsied tongue could speak no word of tenderness. One
arm only obeyed the impulse of her will. She raised it, and
affectionately patted the cheek of her beloved daughter, and wiped the
tears which were flowing down her cheeks. The priest came to
administer the last consolations of religion. Jane, with her eyes
riveted upon her dying parent, endeavored to hold the light.
Overpowered with anguish, the light suddenly dropped from her hand,
and she fell senseless upon the floor. When she recovered from this
swoon her mother was dead.

Jane was entirely overwhelmed with uncontrollable and delirious
sorrow. For many days it was apprehended that her own life would fall
a sacrifice to the blow which her affections had received. Instead of
being a support to the family in this hour of trial, she added to the
burden and the care. The Abbe Legrand, who stood by her bedside as her
whole frame was shaken by convulsions, very sensibly remarked, "It is
a good thing to possess sensibility. It is very unfortunate to have so
much of it." Gradually Jane regained composure, but life, to her, was
darkened. She now began to realize all those evils which her fond
mother had apprehended. Speaking of her departed parent, she says,
"The world never contained a better or a more amiable woman. There was
nothing brilliant in her character, but she possessed