But it was not only that her mind was roused to a keen appreciation of the beauties around her during her residence in Mauritius.  The higher part of her nature, chiefly through the faithful teaching of one of the French pastors on the island, was also touched, and in the young heart there arose the longing to be safely folded in the arms of the Good Shepherd.  A sentence in one of his sermons haunted her night and day:—­“And now, brethren, if you cannot answer me, how will you at the last day answer the Great Searcher of hearts?” An arrow shot at a venture, it pierced her heart, and although she did not yet yield herself fully to God, she never entirely lost the desire to be His, even when apparently outwardly indifferent.  We may well thank God for His servant’s earnest ministry, for had he been less faithful, the whole course of that life, which was to prove so valuable in the service of the Lord, might have been changed.

From Madagascar, five hundred and fifty miles from Mauritius, yet its next-door neighbour westwards in the silver sea, there came, when Agnes was yet but seven years old, the tidings of a fearful persecution of the Christians.  The letters received at that time told of indescribably dreadful sufferings for Christ’s sake, and the sight of the Malagasy refugees who fled to Mauritius, fired her young soul with the desire to become a missionary.  This desire, however, in her exceeding reserve, she kept to herself.  God had other purposes for her, and it was amongst her own country people, and not in the foreign field, that He called her to labour.

After the return of her parents from Mauritius, the greater part of four years was spent in a beautiful spot at the foot of the hills of the Donegal Highlands on the banks of Lough Swilly, one of the loveliest of the Irish lakes.  This period is spoken of by her sister as one in which she appeared utterly indifferent to spiritual things, yet some entries in her journal indicate an intense longing after a higher life.  They certainly show that she knew the sinfulness of her own heart and the weakness of her resolutions, and that, in common with so many reserved natures, while hiding the true state of her feelings from others, she was much given to introspection and inclined to magnify her faults.  Such reserved natures do not “wear their heart on their sleeve,” and it should be a comfort to parents and teachers who are anxiously watching children to know that “things are not always what they seem,” and that many a child who seems altogether careless is in reality not far from the kingdom.

In January, 1848, when a little over fifteen, she was sent to school at Stratford-on-Avon, and remained there until her father’s death in 1850.  The good discipline of this school and the wise guidance of her teachers had a most wholesome effect on the development of her character, and the steady, indomitable perseverance in the face of difficulties which so marked her after-life distinguished her then.  By her painstaking and close attention she made up for her want of quickness in learning.  Hence she never forgot what she had once learned.