s of that night had affected her
brain, and that, through it, the whole nervous system had suffered, and
was continuing to suffer the most melancholy effects. The only thing, he
thought, in her favor was her youth; and added, that it might have a
good effect, if they could leave the place where she had undergone such
a terrible shock. But whether they did or not, kindness and soothing
attentions to her would do more than any thing else.

Mrs. Dunster and little Jane returned home with heavy hearts. The
doctor's opinion had only confirmed their fears; for Jane, though but a
child, had quickness and affection for her sister enough to make her
comprehend the awful nature of poor Nancy's condition. Mrs. Dunster told
her husband the doctor's words, for she thought they would awaken some
tenderness in him toward the unfortunate child. But he said, "That's
just what I expected. Hou'll grow soft, and then who's to maintain her?
Hou mun goo to th' workhouse."

With that he took his maundrel and went off to his work. Instead of
softening his nature, this intelligence seemed only to harden and
brutalize it. He drank now more and more. But all that summer the mother
and Jane did all that they could think of to restore the health and mind
of poor Nancy. Every morning, when the father was gone to work, Jane
went to a spring up in the opposite wood, famed for the coldness and
sweetness of its waters. On this account the proprietors of the mills at
Cressbrook had put down a large trough there under the spreading trees,
and the people fetched the water even from the village. Hence Jane
brought, at many journeys, this cold, delicious water to bathe her
sister in; they then rubbed her warm with cloths, and gave her new milk
for her breakfast. Her lessons were not left off, lest the mind should
sink into fatuity, but were made as easy as possible. Jane continued to
talk to her, and laugh with her, as if nothing was amiss, though she did
it with a heavy heart, and she engaged her to weed and hoe with her in
their little garden. She did not dare to lead her far out into the
valley, lest it might excite her memory of the past fearful time, but
she gathered her flowers, and continued to play with her at all their
accustomed sports, of building houses with pieces of pots and stones,
and imagining gardens and parks. The anxious mother, when some weeks
were gone by, fancied that there was really some improvement. The
cold-bathing seemed to have