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JANE.

BY THE HON. MRS. NORTON.

spaniel dog and a daughter, whom she loved almost as well. The old bachelor would caress the dog in the most affectionate manner, and the interest with which he regarded the daughter, was very kind tends to walkhe knows his way about Drive on postillion; my master inand fatherly in the widow's opinion. For here." Such, one sweet evening in July, the first time our traveller's love affairs 1813,were the words uttered by an imporseemed to be gliding smoothly to their tant gentleman's gentleman,and caught eaconsummation. The widow, the daughter gerly by the villagers of Marsden---idlers, and the dog, were all favorably disposed. who watched the rapid course of Sir ArHe waited impatiently for New-Year's nold Stepney's travelling carriage, with day, for he did not dream of the possibili- much eagerness and admiration.

ty of making a proposal on any other. At The scenes around him were indeed falength it dawned. Our bachelor took up miliar to Sir Arnold's heart. Years had the letter of the preceeding year, changed passed away, circumstances had changed the name and copied it very neatly, When with him; but fortune's favoured son forthe daughter entered the room he con- got not the friends of his infancy. It was signed it to her charge, that it might be to visit the relative who had watched over given to the widow. The day wore on, those early days, that he now sought the the landlady smiled and bustled about as obscure village of Marsden. Mistress usual, but night came and brought no bil- Phoebe Allen was one of the two sisters, let-doux in answer to the proposal. Our daughters to a farmer in the neighborbachelor wondered and went to sleep. The hood: the beauty of both was so remarknext morning when he took his seat in the able, that strangers were in the habit of public room, Maria, who had been absent visiting the farm on different pretexts. all the previous day, entered, followed by merely to obtain a glimpse of these roses the dog. "Come hither, child," said the in the desert. Sir Henry Stepney, (then bachelor very softly, "and tell me what a widower,) saw, admired, and finally answer thy mother gave to my letter." proposed for the younger; but Minny Al"The letter---the letter! oh, monsieur, I len, though her beauty might have done "The letter---the letter! oh, monsieur, honour to a court, was not fitted, by eduhad forgotten it !it was dark when I honour to a court, was not fitted, by education and circumstances, to be the wife went to bed, and I dare say I took it for papillotes ;" and as she spoke, the careless of a proud baronet: their union was not girl began to unroll her hair, and handed happy; and, after five or six years, she him fragment after fragment of his pre-tress Phoebe Allen thought, of a broken died---Sir Henry said, of a decline---Miscious letter, He started bolt upright in his seat, clapped his hat between his knees, and seizing the crumpled paper with both The offspring of this marriage was conhands, convinced himself of its identity. It signed to the care of his aunt when his father went abroad; and was allowed to really was too much; there stood the culprit, looking as demure as a lamb, and remain there, neglected, if not forgotten, till the death of Sir Henry's son, by his there was the dog gazing on his face so first wife, reminded him he had still the knowingly; there was the letter torn into right of a father over the young Arnold. a dozen pieces, and all his hopes were deferred for another twelvemonth, for the but little of him, and for the last eleven From this time Mistress Phoebe Allen saw old bachelor never did make a proposal except on New-Year's day; and he nev-clever and handsome---and still rememberyears merely knew that he lived--was er would have done otherwise, but that ed her, as his short but affectionate letters the widow got a hint of the letter, and in the most delicate manner insinuated that any other day might do as well

heart.

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proved. As Sir Arnold now strolled through the well known fields; as he paused at the church-yard gate, and looked up at the old spire, while a sudden rush of many feelings, crowding into his heart, produced a sensation almost of pain--he

remembered the quiet piety of his instruct-lightly and in jest; to which her confusion ress, the pure and passionate enthusiasm prevented her giving very satisfactory refor holy things, even for trivial forms and plies.

ceremonies connected with them, that He would, perhaps, have said more; burned in his soul, when his home was but, at this moment, the expression of with her; and though, had he been call- fondness returned to the feature he was ed upon, he could eloquently have explain gazing upon his eye followed her's to the ed many changes in his feelings and opin- gate of the church-yard, and beheld a ions since that time; though years had al-very handsome, bold-looking young man, tered his entire and unreasoning confidence in whose countenance surprise contended in the correctness of his kind relative's with extreme displeasure. As she adviews on all subjects, into pity for some vanced a step to meet him, he came forof her prejudices, and contempt for oth-ward hastily, took off his hat to Sir Arners; yet, as Sir Arnold Stepney looked old, and then, holding her hand, murmuron that spire, and remembered that men-ed---" Jane, do you know you are doing tal confidence he heaved a short bitter very wrong?"..." Do not say so," said Sir sigh. Arnold; "I have been asking her some His attention was however, speedily questions it was only courteous to answer;" rivited on another object. As he turned and he left them. When he had proceedto pass on, he saw, on one of the moundsjed a few steps, an irresistible impulse of turf which cover the graves of the poor-prompted him to pause and look round. er classes, a girl sleeping. He started, ad-The young pair still stood at the churchvanced cautiously a few steps, and was yard gate; Jane's waist was encircled by confirmed in his opinion, that, in all the Wallace's arm; her head leaned against countries he had visited, he had never his shoulder; but her eyes---those eyes seen any thing so incomparably lovely. her lover was watching---followed her new A quantity of pale brown hair fell back acquaintance across the meadow, and Sir from her forehead; and the sunshine, Arnold Stepney was contented. beaming full upon a very brilliant com- "And so," thought Arnold, as he laid plexion, gave a sort of glory to her fea- his head on his pillow, after a day of intures. Confused recollections of his fa- quiry" this beautiful being, educated be vourite pictures, groups by Raphael, an-yond her rank, not from charity, but ca gels by Guido, flashed across it, for he price, with all the poetry of love written suddenly knelt and imprinted a fervent in her face, is now a servant at the mill! kiss on the brow of the object before him. Jan orphan from her birth; dependent for "Don't," said the waking beauty, passing support on the charity of strangers; subher hand across her eyes; "don't, Wal-servient to the control of harsh and coarse lace!" Arnold Stepney's sword was al- minds; and so unaccustomed to the words ready, in imagination, through Wallace's of kindness that"---and here the handsome body, when the girl rose, and turned her form of her young and eloquent comfortfull dark eyes upon him. er intruded on his memory. As the out

There is, generally speaking, a striking ward world closed upon his drowsy senses, difference in the expression of the same a bright world of his own opened before features, in slumber and awake. Arnold him--the eternal sunshine gilding that expected to be startled by the flashing beautiful brow; the look of fondness in beauty of those eyes, but, though his ad- those eyes, for ever beaming on himself; miration of her did not abate, he was and her young mind expanded and imstruck by the want of change in her face. proved under his careful instructions, till There was little timidity---little animation every thought and feeling should be inter in her countenance; but, for an instant, woven with his image. When Sir Arnan expression of earnest and intense fond-old Stepney rose in the morning, and the ness beamed from it, while she still ex-fresh breeze blew through the open case pected to behold the object of her dream. ment, he smiled to think of the intense hap She saw Arnold, coloured, and sat down piness it had given him, while dreaming, again on the grave. Sir Arnold smiled, to suppose himself necessary to the exist and addressed a few words to her, spokenience of Jane, the servant at the mill. Three

months, however, passed away, and Sir his eyes: the carriage was turning the Arnold was still at Marsden. At the close corner of the street of low white houses, of a red autumn day, in October, he stood which formed, the village of Marsden: at si leaning his back against the low church the garden gate of one of the neatest of yard wall; and on the opposite mound of these stood a young man gazing intently turf sat the object of his solicitude, her, on the traveller; their eyes met: "Walhands clasped in her lap, and her eyes fix, lace!" muttered Sir Arnold, involuntarily. ted on his, as he delivered his parting words, The carriage whirled past, and Wallace in tones where affection; and command turned slowly into his own little comfortawere strangely blended" You will read ble home: he sat down, and looked round the books I have given you, Janes and on the well known walls; the brightly coyou will think of me while you read them: loured prints, from the story of Ruth, and the the passages I have marked must be read the Prodigal Son; the polished spar ornawith the greatest attention; and all that ments on the chimney-piece; the old you do not comprehend, you can note carved oak chairs; all the little comforts down, and when I come again, I will ex- and luxuries of which he had hoped to plain it to you." There was a pause, and make her mistress. "God protect her--the tears gathered in her eyes. "I shall God protect her!" exclaimed he, as he be here probably in April, certainly not buried his head in his hands, and groaned later than May; and, by that time, I ex-in the bitterness of his heart. pect my sweet Jane will have thoroughly An hour had nearly passed away, and mastered the subjects I have left for her Wallace still sat in the same position; his consideration; amongst them, Jane," con- folded arms on the table, and his head tinued he, while his voice slightly altered, bowed upon them. Suddenly he started "you will consider of your future situa-up. "Yes," said he, aloud; "I will do it; tion. Now, good bye, my poor girl: mind I will do it, though my heart burst in the all I have said, and especially don't a low effort. What a selfish wretch I have been, Wallace to kiss you till I return." A faint to shrink from warning her for my own smile answered his own, as she looked up sake! No, let her hate me; let her cast from the shelter of his arms: it lingered me off for ever; let her refuse to speak to till his form was lost in the distance; and me again; but I will warn her of the ruin, then she sat down, and wept bitterly. and misery, and disgrace, she is bringing As Sir Arnold's travelling carriage roll-on herself."

ARMS

ed swiftly through the village, he thought In the church yard where Arnold left over all that had passed since he came to her, Jane still sat; her eyes red and swoMarsden---the changes in things and peo- len with weeping, and her hands listlessly ple; the kindness and simplicity of Mis clasped. Wallace drew his breath heavitress Phœbe Allen; and lastly, that he ly as he advanced. "Jane," said he, might dwell on it the longer, he thought of "I am come to comfort you."-"You Jane: the perfect symmetry of her round cannot comfort me, Wallace: indeed, I full figure, the unrivalled brilliancy of her ought not to want comfort; and I am complexion, the intense tenderness of her glad some one coming has reminded me large dark eyes, the eagerness and apti- bow foolish it is to sit crying here." So tude she showed for instruction, the puri- saying, Jane rose, and would have passed ty of her uncontaminated mind, the fasci- on; but he seized her hand with a tremunation of her gentle manner, the music of lous grasp: "Hear me for two minutes, her happy laugh, the timid worship she for the sake of old days; for the sake of paid him as to some superior being; and old days, dear Jane, do hear me." She the wild charm thrown round her by the stood passive beneath his touch, her eyes struggling of a naturally clear and ardent bent on the ground, while he vainly enmind, out of the darkness which surround- deavoured to utter some articulate sound. ed it. Yes, my sweet Jane; yes, we His cheek blanched; his lip quivered; his shall be very happy," murmured Sir Arn- whole frame shook with irresistible emoold, as he kissed the glossy braid cf pale tion: he sat down on the mound she had brown hair he had drawn from his pock-just quitted, and, covering his face, reet book. He closed the book, and raised peated her name in a smothered voice.

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The sound seemed to give him tranquillity: come from my lips; but if" and his he rose, and stood by her side. "Jane," voice sunk to a hoarse whisper, "if you said he, firmly, we have met here often can not accept it, say to me only, It is too before; and for the sake of those happy late, Wallace,' and, from that time, I will days, happier than I shall ever spend again; trouble you no more; unless, indeed, an for the sake of the time when I knew you hour should come, an hour of distress in innocent, and believed you mine; hear which there should be none, as of old, to his voice patiently who has so often cheer- comfort you but me."

ed you when others were unkind. You There was a long, miserable pause. are preparing for yourself misery, and ru- The chill autumn wind whistled through in, and horror; you are drawing down on the cypress boughs, and waved the long your head the curse of God, and the grass on the graves: the clock chimed scorn of all good men, you are. O June eight, and the song of returning labourers do not distrust my words, do not think or tne shrill laugh of children, mingled speak as a lover. Heaven knows I could with the busy hammering at the forge in have seen you married to another, and not the village, and the regular beat of the murmured if you were happy; but you wheels of the mill; but distinctly, amid know, Jane you cannot look forward to all these sounds, the gasping breath of that you know that when you renounce that motionless pair struck on the air; the lot of the poor man's wife it is only to and, clear as a church bell on a still evenbecome the rich man's mistress; and know-ing the slow words came from the lips ing this, I ask you, I only ask you, to of the unhappy girl: It is too late weigh well your fate, before you fix it for- Wallace." A dimness came over his ever.” He paused, and proceeded sol-eyes; a sound as of the rushing of waemnly" While you live, Jane, and ters was in his ears for a few moments while I live, it is impossible that I should and, when he woke from his trance she not be interested about you; but it is for was gone.

you to decide and that now, whether that All that long night Wallace lay in the interest shall be beneficial to yourself. I church-yard; when the rain came, he have loved you fervently; I do love you felt it not. When the wind blew he heedfervently. If you will forsake this wild ed it not. Day after day passed; but and terrible dream that has tempted you, what to him was day or night---life or laif you will only promise me to try to for-bour! It was too late; too late to save get it, I will make you my wife, in the Jane; his beautiful, his innocent Jane. face of God and man, within three Sun- Innocent! how the word froze on his days. I know you might be the bride of heart! richer men; I know I am not educated Sir Arnold Stepney did not arrive the as you have been; I have lived among following April, nor even the April after poor people, and I have earned my bread, that; two years passed, and most of the and my father's bread, and have strug- village of Marsden forgot they had ever gled on, from day to day, with a strong seen him. Jane appeared to have forarm and a willing heart, without being gotten it too; she grew neither pale nor able to read any book but the bible; but thinner; she was always cheerful somethis also I know, Jane, that my arm shall timhs gay: the only perceptible difference wither, and my heart grow cold, before was, that she was, if possible, more genharm shall come nigh you which human tle, and that, at the village dances, where aid can avert, or before you shall want she had so often excited the envy of what human toil can obtain. And this I the miller's daughter she was no longer know and feel, that were all the know-seen.

ledge, power, pride, and glory, of the It was not till June, 1815, that Mistress earth mine, I could not love you better Poabe Allen's nephew once more made than I do. One word more, Jane, and I his appearance in the home of his boyhood. have done. If the lot I offer you be such Time had made one other change: his as you can accept, turn to me, and, from kind old aunt was no more, and he had rethe moment your head rests on this bosom turned hastily from abroad. in the vain never shall word of reproach or doubt hope of giving her the satisfaction of

seeing him before she died. All she had if you can; her tone! O God! when to leave was left to him; and it was os-shall I hear a voice like her's again?" tensibly for the purpose of looking over" She only said," (and, as if to comply her papers, and giving directions as to the with his request, the child threw a melan disposal of the house, that Sir Arnold now choly sweetness into her voice,)" she only came to Marsden. It was the second said, When I am gone, go to Wallace's evening after his arrival; and he was cottage, and give him this letter, and tell walking with an eager step up and down him to read it for my sake."-"The let the narrow shrubbery of the cottage gar-ter, the letter!" said Wallace; and, as he den, when a timid hand hastily undid the spoke, he snatched the paper from her, wicket at the end, and Jane stood before and devoured the contents. The child him. watched him till he apparently came to "Arnold! dear Arnold!"—"My own the conclusion, and then said, timidly, “O Jane!" sir, is it true that Jane is gone away for The next day Sir Arnold Stepney's ever?" Wallace looked wildly up: then travelling carriage left Marsden for the taking her hands and gazing in her face, last time. As it passed through the nar- he said slowly, "For ever, Lucy, for evrow lane which divided the meadow by er and ever. She is gone from you, from the river from the church yard, the mas-me, from all good friends, from Heaventer of that splendid equipage broke silence: for ever.". Terrified at the wildness of "Look, Jane! there is the spot where his manner, the little girl stole timidly a first saw you; you will never see it away the moment he had released her, and gain." His companion gazed from be- fled from the cottage, while Wallace aneath the shadow of the green trees which gain and again perused the few lines, guarded the lane, to the broad, still sun- which were all that remained to him of shine which slept on mound and monu- one very dear to his heart. ment. At that familiar spot, which Arn- It was a short melancholy farewell. old pointed out to her notice, knelt the There was no attempt at justification, no figure of a man, apparently engaged in description of the steps that led on to her earnest prayer. As the sound of wheels ruin. She neither appealed to his feelings, roused him, he started up: for one wild nor entreated him to forget her. It was instant, he stretched out his arms to the written in a subdued and heart-broken carriage; it passed as he staggered back, spirit; and there was a consciousness of and fell with his face on the grave. "Wal- the loss of his esteem, and a fearful shrinklace!" exclaimed Jane, in a tone of agony, ing from the future, which Wallace felt as she shrunk for an instant from her bitterly. He thought of his own manly, lover's side and then she turned round; honest love, and the many little offices of and, with a look of wild appeal for future kindness which she had repaid by forprotection, she hid her face on his bosom saking him; and, in the growing convicand wept. tion of her worthlessness, he crushed the The next day a little girl from the mill letter in his hand, and flung it from him. opened the gate of Wallace's garden, and, But with the scenes which he recalled, alter knocking once or twice, ineffectually, came back the image of Jane as she was: at the cottage doo, gently stole round to-Jane, with all her smiles and tears, the lattice window, and, pushing aside the stood before him; with all the purity and honey-suckles and roses which grew thick- simplicity of old days, shining like a glory ly round it, called him by name. He round her brow. His arm dropped, his did not answer: pale and motionless, his eyes grew dim; and he sat down, and clothes soiled with the damp earth, his wept like a little child.

hair pushed erect from his forehead, Wal- Perhaps no human heart is a competent lace sat absorbed in his own thoughts. judge of the strength of those temptations "Mr. Wallace," said the little messenger, allotted to others. In endeavouring to "Jane told me yesterday"-What! who place ourselves in their situation, we intold you? Did you not say Jane told you voluntarily mingle our own motives and something? Come in, Lucy, come in, and feelings with those which are supposed to tell me what she said: say it in her tone, actuate them, and throw our own colour

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