This page needs to be proofread.
she arose in the morning, pale, and unrefreshed.
The sun beamed bright through the casements, and on the stately trees that waved before them, unnumbered birds poured forth their matin lay, intermingled with the simple carol of the woodman: but neither the bright beams of the sun, the melodious notes of soaring birds, nor the wild song of the peasant, could now, as heretofore, delight the mind of Madeline. Saddened beyond expression by obtrusive ideas, she strove to banish that sadness by banishing thought—but, ah! how vain the effort! the "vital spark of heavenly flame" within us must be extinguished, ere we can cease to think.
end of vol. iii.
