CHAPTER VII. Poise the cause in justice's equal scales, 2 HENRY VI. JANE hoped for some favourable change in her condition, or some slight alleviation of it, from the visit of David Wilson, who had just arrived from college, to pass a six-weeks' vacation with his family. At first, he seemed to admire his cousin; and partly to gratify a passing fancy, and partly from opposition to his mother and sisters, he treated her with particular attention. Jane was grateful, and returned his kindness with frankness and affection. But she was soon obliged, by the freedom of his manners, to treat him with reserve. His pride was wounded, and he joined the family league against her. He was a headstrong youth of eighteen; his passions had been curbed by the authority of his mother, but never tamed; and now that he was beyond her reach, he was continually falling into some excess; almost always in disgrace at college, and never in favour. Mr. Lloyd was made acquainted with the embarrassments in Jane's condition, by Mary Hull. He would have rejoiced to have offered Jane a home, but he had no right to interfere; he was a stranger, and he well knew that Mrs. Wilson would not consent to any arrangement that would deprive her of Jane's ill-requited services, such services as money could not purchase. It was, too, about this period, that Mr. Lloyd went, for the first time, to visit Philadelphia. Jane had passed a day of unusual exertion, and just at the close of it she obtained. her aunt's reluctant leave to pay a visit to Mary Hull. It was a soft summer evening: the valley reposed in deep shadow; the sun was sinking behind the western mountains, tinging the light clouds with a smiling farewell ray, and his last beams lingering on the summits of the eastern mountain, as if" parting were sweet sorrow." Jane's spirits rose elastic, as she breathed the open air; she felt like one who has just issued from a close, pent-up, sick room, and inspires the fresh pure breath of morning; she was gayly tripping along, sending an involuntary response to the last notes of the birds that were loitering on "bush and brake," when Edward Erskine joined her; she had often seen him at her aunt's, but, regarding him as the companion of her cousins, she had scarcely noticed him, or had been noticed by him. He joined her, saying, "It is almost too late to be abroad without a companion." "I am used," replied Jane, "to be without a companion, and I do not need one." "But, I hope you do not object to one? It would be one of the miseries of human life, to see such a girl as Jane Elton walking alone, and not be permitted to join her." "Sir ?" said Jane, confounded by Edward's unexpected gallantry. Abashed by her simplicity, he replied, " that he was going to walk, and should be very happy to attend her." Jane felt kindness, though she knew not how to receive gallantry. She thanked him, and they walked on together. When Edward parted from her, he wondered he had never noticed before how very interesting she was, "and what a sweet expression she has when she smiles; and, oh !" added he, with a rapture quite excusable in a young man of twenty, "her eye is in itself a soul." "Jane," said Mary Hull to her, as she entered her room, you look as bright as a May morning, and I have that to tell you, that will make you yet brighter. Mr. Evertson has been here, inquiring for Mr. Lloyd. I had my surmises, that it was something about you, and though Mr. Lloyd was gone, I was determined to find out; and so I made bold to break the ice, and say something about the exhibition, and how much Mr. Lloyd was pleased with the school, &c., &c.—and then he said, he was quite disappointed to find Mr. Lloyd gone; he wanted to consult him about a matter of great importance to himself and to you. Mr. Lloyd was so kind, he said, and had shown such an interest in the school, that he did not like to take any important step without consulting him; and then he spoke very handsomely of those elegant globes that Mr. Lloyd presented to the school. He said, his subscription was so much enlarged, that he must engage an assistant; but, as he wished to purchase some maps, he must get one who could furnish, at least, one hundred dollars. His sick wife and large family, he said, consumed nearly all his profits; and last, and best of all, Jane, he said, that you was the person he should prefer of all others for an assistant." "Me !" exclaimed Jane. "Yes, my dear child, you. I told him you was not quite fifteen ; but he said, you knew more than most young wo men of twenty, and almost all the school loved and respected you." "But, Mary, Mary," and the bright flush of pleasure died away as she spoke, "where am I to get a hundred dollars ?" "Mr. Lloyd," answered Mary, "I know would furnish it." "No, Mary," replied Jane, after a few moments' consideration, "I never can consent to that." "But why?" said Mary. money in doing good." "Mr. Lloyd spends all his Jane could not tell why, but she felt that it was not delicate to incur such an obligation. She merely said, "Mr. Lloyd's means are well employed. If any man does, he certainly will, hear those blessed words, I was hungry and ye fed me, naked and ye clothed me, sick and in prison, and ye visited me.' "I do not eat the bread of idleness, Mary; I think I earn all my aunt gives me; and I am not very unhappy there; indeed, I am seldom unhappy. I cannot tell how it it, but I am used to their ways. I am always busy, and have not time to dwell on their unkindness; it passes me like the tempest from which I am sheltered; and when I feel my temper rising, I remember who it is that has placed me in the fiery furnace, and I feel, Mary, strengthened and peaceful as if an angel were really walking beside me." "Surely," said Mary, as if but thinking aloud, “The kingdom is come in this dear child's heart." Both were silent for a few moments. Jane was making a strong mental effort to subdue that longing after liberty, that lurks in every heart. Habitual discipline had rendered it comparatively easy for her to restrain her wishes. After a short struggle, she said, with a smile, "I am sure of one thing, son. my dear, kind Mary, I shall never lose an opportunity of advantage, while I have such a watchful friend as you are, on the look-out for me. Oh! how much have I to be grateful for! I had no reason to expect such favor from Mr. EvertEvery one, out of my aunt's family, is kind to me; I have no right to repine at the trials I have there; they are, no doubt, necessary to me. Mary, I sometimes feel the rising of a pride in my heart, that I am sure needs all these lessons of humility; and sometimes I feel, that I might be easily tempted to do wrong-to indulge an indolent disposi tion, for which you often reproved me; but I am compelled to exertion, by necessity as well as a sense of duty. It is good for me to bear this yoke in my youth." "No doubt, no doubt, my dear child; but then you know if there is a way of escape opened to you, it would be but a tempting of Providence not to avail yourself of it. It is right to endure necessary evils with patience, but I know no rule that forbids your getting rid of them, if you can." Mary Hull was not a woman to leave any stone unturned, when she had a certain benefit in view for her favourite. "Now, "Now, dear Jane," said she, "I have one more plan to propose to you, and though it will cost you some pain, I think you will finally see it in the same light that I do. I always thought it was not for nothing Providence moved the hearts of the creditors to spare you all your dear mother's clothes, seeing she had a good many that could not be called necessary; nor was it a blind chance that raised you up such a friend as Mr. Lloyd in a stranger. Now, if you will consent to it, I will undertake to dispose of the articles Mr. Lloyd sent to you, and your mother's lace and shawls, and all the little nick-nacks she left; it shall go hard but I will raise a hundred dollars." "But, Mary," said Jane, wishing, perhaps, to conceal from |