For some time past, she seemed to have forgotten that she was a foredoomed creature, and a cast-away, at least her allusions to this were less frequent than before—­a circumstance which Dr. M’Cormick said he looked upon as the most favorable symptom he had yet seen in her case.

Upon this day, however, she sauntered about in silence, and passed from place to place, followed by Agnes; like the waning moon, accompanied by her faithful and attendant star.

After having passed a green field, she came upon the road with an intention of crossing it, and going down by the river to the yew tree, which during all her walks she never failed to visit.  Here it was that, for the second time, she met poor Fanny Morgan, the unsettled victim of treachery more criminal still than that which had been practised upon herself.

“You are the bonnie Fawn of Springvale that’s gone mad with love,” said the unhappy creature.

“No, no,” replied Jane, “you are mistaken.  I am the Queen of Sorrow.”

“I am to be married to-morrow,” said the other.  “Everything’s ready, but I can’t find William.  Did you see him?  But maybe you may, and if you do—­oh speak a word for me, but one word, and tell him that all’s ready, and that Fanny’s waiting, and that he must not break his promise.”

“You are very happy to be married tomorrow.”

“Yes,” replied the other smiling—­“I am happy enough now; but when we are married—­when William makes me his wife, people won’t look down on me any longer.  I wish I could find him, for oh, my heart is sick, and will be sick, until I see him.  If he knew how I was treated, he would not suffer it.  If you see him, will you promise to tell him that all’s ready, and that I am waiting for him?—­Will you, my bonnie lady?”

“I could tell you a secret,” said Jane—­“they don’t know at home that I got the letter at all—­but I did, and have read it—­he is coming home—­coming home to die—­that’s what makes me the Queen of Sorrow.  Do you ever weep?”

“No, but they took the baby from me, and beat me—­my brother John did; but William was not near to take my part?”

“Who will you have at the wedding?”

“I have no bride’s maid yet—­but may be you would be that for me, my bonnie lady.  John said I disgraced them; but surely I only loved William.  I wish to-morrow was past, and that he would remove my shame—­I could then be proud, but now I cannot.”

“And what are you ashamed of?  It is no shame to love him.”

“No, no, and all would be well enough, but that they beat me and took away the baby—­my brother John did.”

“But did William ever swear to you, that if he mot a girl more beautiful, he would cease to love you, and to write to you?”

“No, he promised to marry me.”

“And do you know why he does not?”

“If I could, find him he would.  Oh, if you see him, will you tell him that I’m waiting, and that all’s ready?”