ity; for of
course we do love poor William. Yes, we will go, William; it is better,
I believe."

She then took his arm, and both walked home without speaking another
word; Jane having relapsed into a pettish silence which her brother felt
it impossible to break without creating unnecessary excitement in a mind
already too much disturbed.

From this day forward Jane's mind, fragile as it naturally was, appeared
to bend at once under the double burden of Osborne's approaching death,
and his apprehended treachery; for wherever the heart is found to choose
between two contingent evils, it is also by the very constitution of our
nature compelled to bear the penalty of both, until its gloomy choice
is made. At present Jane was not certain whether Osborne's absence and
neglect were occasioned by ill health or faithlessness; and until she
knew this the double dread fell, as we said, with proportionate misery
upon her spirit.

Bitterly, indeed, did William regret the words in which he desired her
"to suppose that Charles Osborne was not sick." Mr. Sinclair himself saw
the error, but unhappily too late to prevent the suspicion from entering
into an imagination already overwrought and disordered.

Hitherto, however, it was difficult, if not impossible, out of her own
family, to notice in her manner or conversation the workings of a mind
partially unsettled by a passion which her constitutional melancholy
darkened by its own gloomy creations. To strangers she talked
rationally, and with her usual grace and perspicuity, but every one
observed that her cheerfulness was gone, and the current report went,
by whatever means it got abroad, that Jane Sinclair's heart was
broken--that Charles Osborne proved faithless--and that the beautiful
Fawn of Springvale was subject to occasional derangement.

In the meantime Osborne was silent both to his father and to her, and
as time advanced the mood of her mind became too seriously unhappy
and alarming to justify any further patience on the part either of his
family or Mr. Sinclair's. It was consequently settled that Mr. Osborne
should set out for Bath, and compel his son's return, under the hope
that a timely interview might restore the deserted girl to a better
state of mind, and reproduce in his heart that affection which appeared
to have either slumbered or died. With a brow of care the excellent man
departed, for in addition to the concern which he felt for the calamity
of Jane Sinclai