At the open window of the sitting-room, which commanded a view of the road and harbor, Agnes was seated busily engaged in embroidering the muslin dress intended for Ellen’s wedding attire.  The sound of steps near at hand arrested her attention, and looking up, she beheld a stranger, with wonder and admiration depicted on his countenance, standing and gazing fixedly at her.  For a moment her heart seemed to cease its pulsations, and a death-like pallor overspread her cheeks, for so strikingly did the form and face resemble Arthur Bernard, that, in spite of the improbability of the case, Agnes almost believed it to be him.

Ernest, on his part, was equally surprised at seeing, in a fisherman’s dwelling, one whose elegant appearance formed such a striking contrast to the unpretending and rudely fashioned abode in which she dwelt.

The small purse of gold, which Agnes had thoughtfully secured about her person on the night that witnessed the conflagration of the ill-fated steamer, had enabled her to purchase from Mrs. Williamson some plain materials, which had been fashioned, by her own skilful fingers, into neat and becoming attire.  Her nicely-fitting brown stuff dress, relieved by a linen collar of snowy whiteness, displayed to advantage her graceful figure; her soft brown tresses were smoothly parted from her fair forehead; and her fine intelligent countenance, on whose every lineament refinement and sensibility were stamped, wore an expression of sweet and touching resignation, and hope “subdued but cherished still;” what marvel, then, that Ernest Clifford’s steps were arrested, when he beheld so lovely an apparition, and that he gazed upon her as though he expected that the fair vision would soon vanish from his view.  He had watched her for a few moments unobserved, but when their glances met, he marked, with increasing astonishment, her evident emotion, and pleased, yet strangely puzzled, he could not find courage to seek admittance at the cottage, but, retracing his steps, resolved to wait for an introduction from the Captain.

It was with a good deal of surprise that the Captain and his wife beheld Ernest advancing towards them.

“Was no one within,” he inquired, “that you have come back so soon?”

“Really, Captain,” was the reply, “I could not summon courage to knock at the door and ascertain.”

“Courage!” echoed the Captain, wondering as he marked the young man’s heightened color and evident embarrassment,—­“courage to knock at a poor fisherman’s dwelling!  Really, Mr. Clifford, your sojourn among these barbarians must have been productive of no little injury to you, if it has robbed you of that courage with which I am sure, from your appearance, Nature plentifully endowed you.”

“You misunderstand me, my dear Sir, I assure you,” was the reply.  “I feared intruding, and thought I would prefer waiting for an introduction from you.”

The Captain could contain himself no longer, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, in which he was joined by his wife.