“Oh, Miss Damer! I will love you for ever, for forgiving me so soon.” The bell rang, and she hastened out of the room.
“Should you not have been a little more stern?” said Miss Arden.
“My dear friend, ask yourself whether you could be so to a little girl who has no mother.”
Tears started into Miss Arden’s eyes. “I did not think of that.”
CHAPTER XIII.
One evening after school-hours, Mrs. Adair went into Jane’s apartment, who at this time was chiefly confined to her chamber, and found her busily employed sealing small parcels. One was directed, “For my friend Miss Damer;” another, “For my dear little Isabella Vincent;” and a third, “For my amiable young friend Miss Arden.” Mrs. Adair seated herself with the work in which she was engaged: and as her eyes glanced to the sealed parcels, tears stole down her cheeks.
“My dear mother,” said Jane with tenderness, “I am only making a little preparation before my journey. You must have been aware, some time, that the days of my life were numbered; and they will now be very few. But do not grieve on my account: it is the appointment of One, who is unerring in his ways. Excepting the separation from you and my sister, I feel that I have no regret at leaving this world.
“Death is a subject that I have often contemplated. The grave, and the last perishable garment in which I shall be clothed, have now lost all their terrors. The evening I first arrived at school, when my mind was filled with grief at our separation, I remember being greatly shocked at the slow, solemn, deep tones of the village church-bell. I cannot describe my feelings at the time. Sorrow at leaving home rendered the awful muffled peal more dismal to my ears: but from that night I may date my first serious thoughts of another world. I have never troubled my friends with my reflections, but that bell was as a monitor, to warn me that I was not for this world.”