it requires no further illustration from us. At home, Jane Sinclair
was loved more devotedly in consequence of being the most innocent and
beautiful of her father's children; in addition to this, however, she
was cherished with that peculiar sensibility of attachment by which the
human heart is always swayed towards its youngest and its last.

On witnessing her father's tenderness, she concealed her face in his
bosom, and wept for some time in silence, and by a gentle pressure of
her delicate arms, as they encircled his neck, intimated her sense of
his affectionate indulgence towards her; and perhaps, could it have
been understood, a tacit acknowledgment of her own unworthiness on that
occasion to receive it.

At length, she said, after an effort to suppress her tears, "Papa, I
will go to bed."

"Do, my love; and Jane, forget not to address the Throne of God before
you sleep."

"I did not intend to neglect it, papa. Mamma, come with me." She then
kissed her sisters and bade good-night to William; after which she
withdrew, accompanied by her mother, whilst the eyes of those who
remained were fixed upon her with love and pride and admiration.

"Mamma," said she, when they reached the apartment, "allow me to sleep
alone tonight."

"Jane, your mind appears to be depressed, darling," replied her mother;
"has anything disturbed you, or are you really ill?"