, 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.

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.

"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."

"You have had your share of sorrow, my poor stricken creature," replied
Agnes, heavily.

"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?"

"Yes, love, often."

"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."

"Agnes looked at her with sad but earnest admiration, and exclaimed in a
quivering-voice as she pressed her to her bosom,

"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 feelin