e  dread and dangerous regions. I closed t it on table, beside tasted tart.

    Bessie ing and tidying tain little dra for Georgiana’s doll. Meantime she sang: her song was—

    “In t gipsying,

    A long time ago.”

    I en ; for Bessie  voice,—at least, I t so. But noill s, I found in its melody an indescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied ime ago” came out like t cadence of a funeral o anotime a really doleful one.

    “My feet they are weary;

    Long is tains are wild;

    Soon  close moonless and dreary

    Over the poor orphan child.

    hey send me so far and so lonely,

    Up whe moors spread and grey rocks are piled?

    Men are ed, and kind angels only

    atceps of a poor orphan child.

    Yet distant and soft t breeze is blowing,

    Clouds tars beam mild,

    God, in ection is showing,

    Comfort and o the poor orphan child.

    Ev’n she broken bridge passing,

    Or stray in ts beguiled,

    Still h promise and blessing,

    take to he poor orphan child.

    t t for strength should avail me,

    ter and kindred despoiled;

    fail me;

    God is a friend to the poor orphan child.”

    “Come, Miss Jane, don’t cry,” said Bessie as s as  burn!” but o whe morning Mr. Lloyd came again.

    “, already up!” said ered the nursery. “ell, nurse, how is she?”

    Bessie ans I was doing very well.

    “t to look more c not?”

    “Yes, sir, Jane Eyre.”

    “ell, you ell me ? have