disappearance.

"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?"

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.

"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."

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.

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.

Jane approached him slowly, and putting her hand to her bosom, took out
the letter and placed it upon the table before him.

"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."

"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:

"Papa, mamma, have I done anything wrong? If I have tell me. Oh, Agnes,
Agnes, but my heart is heavy."

"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."

"Alas, my dear," he replied, "who can tell? It may happen as you say. Oh
how I shall bless G