Summary

Portrait of E. Werner E. Werner A Hero of the Pen

Jane did not know that weeping which so often is the woman's only and supremest consolation; she had forgotten it in her childhood. That sobbing into which she had once broke out at the death-bed of her father, when for the moment her strength had utterly given way, had come over her, wild and passionate, like a convulsion, but tearless. Her rigid, iron nature knew not even the outward signs of weakness; she bore all sorrow as she had seen her father bear it; like a man.
Atkins allowed her no time to utter the question that trembled on her lips. "It is about a danger," he said hastily.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of E. Werner E. Werner A Hero of the Pen

Jane Forest was not woman enough to remain long under such an infatuation, without exerting all her strength to break from it. Her whole inner being rose in arms; the whole pride and obstinacy of her nature arrayed themselves against this power, which for some moments had held her in willess control, against this influence that had so oppressed her. She must break the spell, cost what it would, and with quick determination, she grasped after the first weapon that stood at her command--remorseless irony.
"I did not know you were a poet, Professor Fernow!"
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of E. Werner E. Werner A Hero of the Pen

From our mountains, from our castles, the mighty forms of the past descend; in our cities, the old races rise again in their pristine might and splendor; our cathedrals, memorials of imperishable magnificence and power, tower heavenward; the Loreley entices and beckons us down beneath its green waves, in whose deepest depths, sparkles and glitters the Niebelungen horde,--all this lives, and enchants us in and around our Rhine, Miss Forest, and this certainly, no--stranger can understand."
Jane had listened, first in surprise, then in wonder, but at last in utter consternation.
Source: Gutenberg

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