“I know not, my dear Jane; but cruel and heartless must the man be that could perpetrate a piece of such wanton mischief.  I should rather think it is some idle boy who knows not that it is tame.”

“William, dear William, can you not save it,” she inquired again of her brother; “if it is doomed to die, let it die with me; but, alas! now it must sink, and I will never see it more;” and the affectionate girl continued to weep bitterly.

“Indeed, my dear Jane, I never regretted my ignorance of swimming so much as I do this moment.  The truth is, I cannot swim a stroke, otherwise I would save poor little Ariel for your sake.”

“Don’t take it so much to heart, my dear child,” said her father; “it is certainly a distressing incident, but, at the same time, your grief, girl, is too excessive; it is violent, and you know it ought not to be violent for the death of a favorite bird.”

“Oh, papa, who can look upon its struggles for life, and not feel deeply; remember it was mine, and think of its attachment to me.  It has not only the pain of its wound to suffer, but to struggle with an element against which it feels a natural antipathy, and with which the gentle creature is this moment contending for its life.”

There was, indeed, something very painful and affecting in the situation of the beautiful wounded dove.  Even Mr. Sinclair himself, in witnessing its unavailing struggles, felt as much; nor were the other two girls unaffected any more than Jane herself.  Their eyes became filled with tears, and Maria, the eldest, said, “It is better, Jane, to return home.  Poor mute creature! the view of its sufferings is, indeed, very painful.”

Just then a tall, slender youth, apparently about eighteen, came out of the trees on the other bank of the river but on seeing Mr. Sinclair and his family, he paused, and appeared to feel somewhat embarrassed.  It was evident he had seen the bird wounded, and followed the course of its flight, without suspecting that it was tame, or that there was any person near to claim it.  The distress of the females, however, especially of its mistress, immediately satisfied him that it was theirs, and he was about to withdraw into the wood again, when the situation of poor Ariel caught his eye.  He instantly took off his hat, flung it across the river, and plunging in swam towards the dove, which was now nearly exhausted.  A few strokes brought him to the spot, on reaching which, he caught the bird in one hand, held it above the water, and, with the other, swam down towards a slope in the bank a few yards below the spot where the party stood.  Having gained the bank, he approached them, but was met half way by Jane, whose eyes, now sparkling through her tears, spoke her gratitude in language much more eloquent than any her tongue could utter.

[Illustration:  Page 5—­ Having gained the bank, he approached them]

The youth first examined the bird, with a view to ascertain where it had been wounded, and immediately placed it with much gentleness in the eager hands of its mistress.