on the part of her uncle, that if, on the expiration of her sojourn among strangers, her fanatical views; as he termed them, remained unchanged, she must expect to find herself banished from the home of her childhood.  Poor Agnes! a painful decision awaited her.  With all the affection of her warm and unsophisticated spirit, had she repaid the tenderness that had been lavished upon her, and now to find herself charged with having acted a foolish and ungrateful part,—­to be thrust forth from a home of luxury,—­from the attention and sympathy of friends,—­to battle with a world that has but little kindness, in general, to spare for those who need it most; these were painful and harassing thoughts, and what wonder they weighed down that gentle and timid spirit, and suffused those lustrous eyes which, until lately, had seldom shed the tear of sorrow, except for other’s woes.

But as, lost in these troubled reflections, she glanced at the giant waves beneath her, suddenly a sweet promise of Holy Writ was applied to her agitated mind, “When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the floods, they shall not overflow thee,”—­and immediately her spirit grew calmer, while a sense of peace, comfort and security, quelled each rising doubt.

“I have nothing to fear,” she murmured.

    “His voice commands the tempest forth,
        And stills the stormy wave,—­
    And though his arm be strong to smite,
        ’Tis also strong to save.”

Agnes was aroused from her reverie by Mr. Cameron’s cheerful voice.

“My dear Miss Wiltshire, allow me to present to you an old friend.”

She turned to salute the stranger, but what was her surprise and delight to find in him the clergyman under whose ministrations she had so largely profited.  The pleasure, indeed, seemed mutual, for though Mr. Dunseer, having shortly after Agnes’s departure for the city left that part of the country, had consequently heard nothing more of her, he still remembered his young and attentive hearer, and had often since then desired to see her again, and ascertain if indeed the impressions made were lasting, or had been obliterated amid the whirl and gayety of fashionable life.

Still more delighted was Agnes when she learned of his destination; it seemed a link binding her to those with whom, with the exception of Mr. Edwards, she was totally unacquainted; and from the depth of her heart she silently thanked the kind Providence who had thus directed her steps, and permitted a meeting so fraught with comfort and encouragement at the very time most needed.

Long and pleasant was the converse of friends that evening, and it was not until some time after the sun had set, and dark and heavy clouds, sweeping across the sky like armies gathering to battle, had obscured the light of the rising moon, that Agnes, with a heart peaceful and trusting, retired to her state-room, and in spite of the dash of waves, and the wail of the rising wind, resigned herself to slumbers calm and blest.