“But in the meantime, we must endeavor to put such silly projects out of his head, my dear friend.  I am more troubled about that sweet girl than about any thing else.  I cannot understand his neglect of her.”

“Few, indeed, are worthy of that angel,” replied her father, sighing; “I hope he may.  If Charles, after what has passed, sports with her happiness, he will one day have a fearful reckoning of it, unless he permits his conscience to become altogether seared.”

“It cannot, happen,” replied the other; “I know my boy, his heart is noble; no, no, he is incapable of dishonor, much less of perfidy so black as that would be.  In my next letter, however, I shall call upon him to explain himself upon that subject, as well as the other, and if he replies by an evasion, I shall instantly command him home.”

They then separated, with a feeling of deep but fatherly concern, one anxious for the honor of his son, and the other trembling for the happiness of his daughter.

Mr. Sinclair was a man in whose countenance could be read all the various emotions that either exalted or disturbed his heart.  If he felt joy his eye became irradiated with benignant lustre, that spoke at once of happiness; and, when depressed by care or sorrow, it was easy to see by the serious composure of his face, that something troubled or disturbed him.  Indeed, this candor of countenance is peculiar to those only who have not schooled their faces into hypocrisy.  After his return from the last interview with Mr. Osborne, his family perceived at a glance that something more than usually painful lay upon his mind; and such was the affectionate sympathy by which they caught each other’s feelings, that every countenance, save! one, became partially overshadowed.  Jane, although her eye was the first and quickest! to notice this anxiety of her father, exhibited no visible proof of a penetration so acute and lively.  The serene light that beamed so mournfully from her placid but melancholy brow, was not darkened by what she saw; on the contrary, that brow became, if possible, more serene; for in truth, the gentle enthusiast had already formed a settled plan of exalted resignation that was designed to sustain her under an apprehension far different from that which Osborne’s ambitious speculations in life would have occasioned her to feel had she known them.

“I see,” said she with a smile, “that my papa has no good news to tell.  A letter has come to his father, but none to me; but you need not fear for my firmness, papa.  I know from whence to expect support; indeed, from the beginning I knew that I would require it.  You often affectionately chid me for entertaining apprehensions too gloomy; but now they are not gloomy, because, if what I surmise be true, Charles and I will not be so long separated as you imagine.  The hope of this, papa, is my consolation.”

“Why, what do you surmise, my love, asked her father.