gs, 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.

Jane looked up with a pensive gaze into Agnes's face, and as she calmly
dried her sister's tears, said:--

"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."

"It is true, indeed, Jane--too true, too true, my darling."

"Agnes, I could tell you a secret. It is not without reason that I am
the Queen of Sorrow."

"Alas, it is not, my sweet innocent."

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

After having passed a green field, she came upon the road wi