Lynchburg Virginian. [volume] (Lynchburg [Va.]) 1829-185?, 1851-04-24


few minutes; then quilted the room, and
proceeded alone to Jane Langley's apart
ment.
When he knocked at the door, it was
opened by Clara. There was an express
sion partly of confusion, partly of sorrow
upon her face; and when herfarther stop
ped as if to speak, she merely pointedini
the room and hurried away without utter
ing a word.
Mr.. Langley had been prepared by his
wife for the change that had taken place
in his daughter since the day before; but
| he felt startled, almost overwhelmed, as he
now looked on her. One ofthe poor girls
most prominent personal attractions, from
her earliest years had been the beauty Of
her complexion and now, the freshness
and the bloom had entirely departed from
her face I; it seemed absolutely colourless.
Her expression. too, appeared to Mr..
Langley eyes, to have undergone mel
ancholy alteration to have lost its youth
fulness suddenly; to have assumed a
strange character of frmness and thought
tulness, which he had never observed in
It before. She was sitting by an open
window, commanding lovely view ofa
wide sunny landscapes; Bible which her
mother had given her, lay open on her
knees. she was reading in it as her father
entered. For the first time in his life, he
paused, speechless, as he approached to
speak 10 one of his own children.
Il am afraid look very ILL.," she said
holding out her hand to him "but l am
better than look; | shall be quite well in
a day or two. Have you heard my mes
sage, father have you beentold--
My love, we viii not speak of it yet
we will wait a few days." said Mr.. Lang
ley.
you have always been so kind to me, -
she continued. in less steady tones, "that |
am sure you Twill let me COON. Ihave very
little to say, but that little must be said
now, and then we need never recur to it
again. VIII you consider all that has hap
pened, as something forgotten! You have
heard already what it is that entreat you
to do: will you let him-Mr. r.Streatfeld-"
(She stopped, her voice failed for mo-
ment, but she recovered herself again al
most immediately viii you let Mr..
Streattield remain here, or recall him if he
is gone, and give him an opportunity Of cx-
planning himself to my sister! If poor
Clara should refuse TO see him for my sake
pray do not listen to her. am sure this
is what ought to be don have been
thinking Of 1t very calmly, and | feel that
1t is right. And there Is something more |
have tc beg of you. father; ii is that, while
Mr.. Streatlield Is here, you will allow me
to go and stay with my aunt You know
how fond She is of me- Her house is not
days journey from home. 1t is best for
everybody (much the best for me- that |
should not remain here at present; and
and dear father! have always been your
spoiled child; and | know you will indulge
me still. Ii you will do what ask you, |
shall soon get over this heavy trial |
shall be well again ii | am away at aunt's
if
She paused; and putting one trembling
| arm around her fathers neck, hid her face
on his breast For some minutes, Mr.
Langley could not trust himself to answer
her. There was something not deeply
touching only, but impressive and sublime
about the moral heroism Of this young girl,
whose heart and mind-hitherto wholly
inexperienced in the harder and darker
emergencies of flite-now rosein the strength
of their native purity superior to the bittei-
est, cruelest trial that either could under
so; whose patience and resignation called
forth for the first time by calamity which
suddenly thwarled the purposes and para
USED the affections that had been destined
to endure for life, could thus appear at
once in the fullest maturity of virture and
beauty. As the father thought on these
things; as he vaguely and imperlectly esti-
mated the extent ofthc daughters sacrifice;
as he reflected on the nature of the afliic-
ton that had befallcn her-which combin-
ed in itselfa fatality that none could have
toreseen, fault that could neither be re.
paired nor resented, a Judgment against
which there was no appeal--ard then re-
membered how this afiliction had been
borne, with what words and what actions
it had been met, he felt that it would be al
most proclamation to Judge the touching
petition just addressed to him by the critc-
rion Of his worldly wisdom. His eye fell
on the Bible, still open beneath it; he re-
membered the little child who was set in
the midst of the disciples, as teacher and ex-
ample to all; and when at length he spoke
in answer to his daughter, it was not to d.
rect or to advise, but to comfort and com
ply.
They delayed her removal for few
days, TO see if she filtered in her rcsolu
tion, orifherbod weakness increased; but
she never wavered; nothing il her appear
ance changed either for better or for worse
A week after the startling scene at the din
ner table, she was living in the strictest re-
tiremeni in the house of her aunt.
About the period ofher departure, let
ter was received from Mr.. Streatfeld. 1t
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 res
pectful terms. The letter was answered
briefly; he wasinformed that nothing had ,as
yet, been determined on, but that the next
communication would bring him final
reply.
Two months past. 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
shock to the nervous system; Of great hope
from time and their patients strength Of
mind; and of the necessity of acccding to
her wishes in all things. Then the advice
ofthe aunt was sought. She was woman
Of eccentric, masculine character, who had
herself experienced love-disappointment
in early life, and had never married. She
gave her opinion unreservedly and abrupt
| y, as she always gave it. "Do as Jane
fnll. un,1l'i snll lie nll L, L.