conscious of the occurrence between her and her lover; and if the wish
could have relieved her, she would almost have wished to die, so much
did she shrink abashed in their presence.

"Tell me, my daughter," proceeded her father, more seriously, "has your
absence been occasioned by anything that you are ashamed or afraid to
mention? From me, Jane, you ought to have no secrets;--you are yet too
young to think away from your father's heart and from your mother's
also;--speak candidly, my child,--speak candidly,--I expect it."

As he uttered the last words, the head of their beautiful flower sank
upon her bosom, and in a moment she lay insensible upon the sofa on
which she had been sitting.

This was a shock for which neither the father nor the family were
prepared. William flew to her,--all of them crowded about her, and
scarcely had he raised that face so pale, but now so mournfully
beautiful in its insensibility, when her mother and sisters burst into
tears and wailings, for they feared at the moment that their beloved
one must have been previously seized with sudden illness, and was then
either taken, or about to be taken from their eyes for ever. By the
coolness of her father, however, they were directed how to restore her,
in which, after a lapse of not less than ten minutes, they succeeded.

When she recovered, her mother folded her in her arms, and her sisters
embraced her with tenderness and tears. Her father then gently caught
her hand in his, and said with much affection:

"Jane, my child, you are ill. Why not have told us so?"

The beautiful girl knelt before him for a moment, but again rose up, and
hiding her head in his bosom, exclaimed--weeping--

"Papa, bless me, oh, bless me, and forgive me."

"I do; I do," said the old man; and as he spoke a few large tears
trickled down his cheeks, and fell upon her golden locks.

PART II.

It is a singular fact, but one which we know to be true, that not only
the affection of parents, but that of brothers and sisters, goes
down with greater tenderness to the youngest of the family, all other
circumstances being equal. This is so universally felt and known, that
it requires no further illustration from us. At home, Jane Sinclair
was loved more devotedly in consequence of being the most innocent and
beautiful of her father's children; in addition to this, however, she
was cherished with that peculiar sensibility of attachment by which the
human heart i