When I had made my adieus to the father, I went, with a sorrowful heart, in quest of the daughter.

She was still in the little breakfast-parlor--that parlor so loved! I found her pale, timid, sensitive, bland, but serene.

Little could ever disturb that heavenly quality in the dear girl; if she laughed, it was with a restrained and moderated joy; if she wept, it was like rain falling from a sky that still shone with the lustre of the sun.

It was only when feeling and nature were unutterably big within her, that some irresistible impulse of her sex betrayed her into emotions like those I had twice witnessed so lately.
"You are about to leave us, Jack," she said, holding out her hand kindly and without the affectation of an indifference she did not feel; "you will see many strange faces, but you will see none who--" I waited for the completion of the sentence, but, although she struggled hard for self-possession, it was never finished.
"At my age, Anna, and with my means, it would be unbecoming to remain at home, when, if I may so express it, 'human nature is abroad.' I go to quicken my sympathies, to open my heart to my kind, and to avoid the cruel regrets that tortured the death-bed of my father." "Well--well," interrupted the sobbing girl, "we will talk of it no more.
It is best that you should travel; and so adieu, with a thousand--nay, millions of good wishes for your happiness and safe return.

You will come back to us, Jack, when tired of other scenes." This was said with gentle earnestness and a sincerity so winning that it came near upsetting all my philosophy; but I could not marry the whole sex, and to bind down my affections in one would have been giving the death-blow to the development of that sublime principle on which I was bent, and which I had already decided was to make me worthy of my fortune and the ornament of my species.