Her youthful lover gazed upon her as she stood with her sparkling eyes
fixed upon vacancy. Never did she appear so beautiful, her features were
kindled into an expression which was new to him--but an expression so
full of high moral feeling, beaming like the very divinity of truth from
her countenance, yet overshadowed by an unsettled gloom, which gave to
her whole appearance the power of creating both awe and admiration in
the spectator.

The boy was deeply affected, and in a voice scarcely firm, said in
soothing and endearing accents, whilst he took her hand in his,

"Jane, my best beloved, and dearest--say, oh say in what manner I can
compose your mind, or relieve you from the necessity of practising the
deceit which troubles you so much."

"Oh," said she, bending her eye on him, "but it is sweet to be beloved
by those that are dear to us. Your sympathy thrills through my whole
frame with a soothing sensation inexpressibly delightful. It is sweet to
me--for you, Charles, are my only confident. Dear, dear Charles, how I
longed to see you, and to hear your voice."

As she made this simple but touching admission of the power of her love,
she laid her head on his bosom and wept. Charles pressed her to his
heart, and strove to speak, but could not--she felt his tears raining
fast upon her face.

At length he said, pressing his beautiful once more to his beating
bosom--"the moment, the moment that I cease to love you, may it, O God,
be my last."