ime
by a calamity which suddenly thwarted the purposes and paralyzed the
affections that had been destined to endure for a life, could thus
appear at once in the fullest maturity of virtue and beauty. As the
father thought on these things; as he vaguely and imperfectly estimated
the extent of the daughter's sacrifice; as he reflected on the nature of
the affliction that had befallen her--which combined in itself a
fatality that none could have foreseen, a fault that could neither be
repaired nor resented, a judgment against which there was no appeal--and
then remembered how this affliction had been borne, with what words and
what actions it had been met, he felt that it would be almost a
profanation to judge the touching petition just addressed to him, by the
criterion of _his_ worldly doubts and _his_ worldly wisdom. His eye fell
on the Bible, still open beneath it; he remembered the little child who
was set in the midst of the disciples, as teacher and example to all;
and when at length he spoke in answer to his daughter, it was not to
direct or to advise, but to comfort and comply.

They delayed her removal for a few days, to see if she faltered in her
resolution, if her bodily weakness increased; but she never wavered;
nothing in her appearance changed, either for better or for worse. A
week after the startling scene at the dinner-table, she was living in
the strictest retirement in the house of her aunt.

About the period of her departure, a letter was received from Mr.
Streatfield. It was little more than a recapitulation of what he had
already said to Mr. Langley--expressed, however, on this occasion, in
stronger and, at the same time, in more respectful terms. The letter was
answered briefly: he was informed that nothing had, as yet, been
determined on, but that the next communication would bring him a final
reply.

Two months passed. During that time, Jane Langley was frequently visited
at her aunt's house, by her father and mother. She still remained calm
and resolved; still looked pale and thoughtful, as at first. Doctors
were consulted: they talked of a shock to the nervous system; of great
hope from time, and their patient's strength of mind; and of the
necessity of acceding to her wishes in all things. Then, the advice of
the aunt was sought. She was a woman of an eccentric, masculine
character, who had herself experienced a love-disappointment in early
life, and had never married. She gave her opinion