person to whom they belonged. And Jemima gave her a new subject for
contemplation, by describing the person of a lovely maniac, just brought
into an adjoining chamber. She was singing the pathetic ballad of
old Rob* with the most heart-melting falls and pauses. Jemima had
half-opened the door, when she distinguished her voice, and Maria stood
close to it, scarcely daring to respire, lest a modulation should escape
her, so exquisitely sweet, so passionately wild. She began with sympathy
to pourtray to herself another victim, when the lovely warbler flew, as
it were, from the spray, and a torrent of unconnected exclamations and
questions burst from her, interrupted by fits of laughter, so
horrid, that Maria shut the door, and, turning her eyes up to heaven,
exclaimed--"Gracious God!"

* A blank space about ten characters in length occurs here
in the original edition [Publisher's note].

Several minutes elapsed before Maria could enquire respecting the rumour
of the house (for this poor wretch was obviously not confined without a
cause); and then Jemima could only tell her, that it was said, "she
had been married, against her inclination, to a rich old man, extremely
jealous (no wonder, for she was a charming creature); and that, in
consequence of his treatment, or something which hung on her mind, she
had, during her first lying-in, lost her senses."

What a subject of meditation--even to the very confines of madness.

"Woman, fragile flower! why were you suffered to adorn a world exposed
to the inroad of such stormy elements?" thought Maria, while the poor
maniac's strain was still breathing on her ear, and sinking into her
very soul.