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."

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.

"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?"

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.

"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--

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
Of thee, thee--only thee!"

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.