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Jane Sinclair; Or, The Fawn Of Springvale - The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two by William Carleton
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at the expense of what is sacred or solemn; such jests harden the heart
of him who utters them, and sink his character, not only as a Christian,
but as a gentleman."

"I beg your pardon, father---I was wrong--but I spoke heedlessly."

"I know you did, Billy; but in future avoid it. Well, Jane, how is your
bird?"

"I think it is better, papa; but one can form no opinion so soon."

"Go, show it to your mamma--she is the best doctor among us--follow her
advice, and no doubt she will add its cure to the other triumphs of her
skill."

"Jane is fretting too much about it," observed Agnes; "why, Jane, you
are just now as pale as young Osborne himself."

This observation turned the eyes of the family upon her; but scarcely
had her sister uttered the words when the young creature's countenance
became the color of crimson, so deeply, and with such evident confusion
did she blush. Indeed she felt conscious of this, for she rose, with
the wounded dove lying gently between her hands and bosom, and passed,
without speaking, out of the room.

"Don't you think, papa," observed Miss Sinclair, "that there is a
striking resemblance between young Osborne and Jane? I could not help
remarking it."

"There decidedly is, Maria, now that you mentioned it," said William.
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