assumed
a wild and graceful character, sometimes light and unsettled as the
glancing of sunbeams on a disturbed current, and occasionally pensive
and beautiful as the beams of an autumnal moon. In all the habits of the
family she was most exact. Her devotional composure at prayer appeared
to be fraught with the humblest piety; her attendance at Meeting was
remarkably punctual, and her deportment edifying to an extreme degree.
The history, too, of her insanity and its cause had gone far and wide,
as did the sympathy which it excited. In all her innocent ramblings with
Agnes around her father's house, and through the adjoining fields, no
rude observation or unmannered gaze ever offended the gentle creature;
but on the contrary, the delicate-minded peasant of the north would
often turn aside from an apprehension of disturbing her, as well perhaps
as out of reverence for the calamity of a creature so very young and
beautiful.

Indeed, many affecting observations were made, which, could her friends
have heard them, would have fallen like balm upon their broken spirits.
Full of compassion they were for her sore misfortune, and of profound
sympathy for the sorrows of her family.

"Alas the day, my bonnie lady! My Heart is sair to see sae lovely a
thing gliding about sae unhappy. Black be his gate that had the heart
to leave you, for rank and wealth, my winsome lassie. Weary on him, and
little good may his wealth and rank do him! Oh wha would a thocht that
the peerless young blossom wad hae been withered so soon, or that the
Fawn o' Springvale wad hae ever come to the like o' this. Alas! the
day, too, for the friends that nurst you, Ay bonnie bairn!" and then the
kind-hearted matron would wipe her eyes on seeing the far-loved Fawn of
Springvale passing by, unconscious that the fatal arrow which had first
struck her was still quivering in her side. The fourth month had
now elapsed, and Jane's malady neither exhibited any change nor the
slightest symptom of improvement. William, who had watched her closely
all along, saw that no hope of any such consummation existed. He
remarked, too, with a bitter sense of the unprincipled injury inflicted
on the confiding girl, that every week drew her perceptibly nearer and
nearer to the grave. His blood had in fact long been boiling in
his veins with an indignation which he could scarcely stifle. He
entertained, however, a strong reverence for religion, and had Jane,
after a reasonable per