One day it was announced that a Liverpool packet had arrived with the ship fever on board, and that several of the passengers had been removed to the hospital.

A thrill of fear went through the heart of the anxious wife.  It was soon ascertained that Marvel had been a passenger on board of this vessel; but, from some cause, nothing in regard to him beyond this fact could she learn.  Against all persuasion, she started for the hospital, her heart oppressed with a fearful presentiment that he was either dead or struggling in the grasp of a fatal malady.  On making inquiry at the hospital, she was told the one she sought was not there, and she was about returning to the city, when the truth reached her ears.

“Is he very ill?” she asked, struggling to compose herself.

“Yes, he is extremely ill,” was the reply.  “And it might not be well for you, under the circumstances, to see him at present.”

“Not well for his wife to see him?” returned Agnes.  Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of not being permitted to come near in his extremity.  “Do not say that.  Oh, take me to him!  I will save his life.”

“You must be very calm,” said the nurse; for it was with her she was talking.  “The least excitement may be fatal.”

“Oh, I will be calm and prudent.”  Yet, even while she spoke, her frame quivered with excitement.

But she controlled herself when the moment of meeting came, and, though her unexpected appearance produced a shock, it was salutary rather than injurious.

“My dear, dear Agnes!” said Edward Marvel, a month from this time, as they sat alone in the chamber of a pleasant house in New York, “I owe you my life.  But for your prompt resolution to follow me across the sea, I would, in all probability, now be sleeping the sleep of death.  Oh, what would I not suffer for your sake!”

As Marvel uttered the last sentence, a troubled expression flitted over his countenance.  Agnes gazed tenderly into his face, and asked—­

“Why this look of doubt and anxiety?”

“Need I answer the question?” returned the young man.  “It is, thus far, no better with me than when we left our old home.  Though health is coming back through every fibre, and my heart is filled with an eager desire to relieve these kind friends of the burden of our support, yet no prospect opens.”

No cloud came stealing darkly over the face of the young wife.  The sunshine, so far from being dimmed, was brighter.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” said she, with a beautiful smile.  “All will come out right.”

“Right, Agnes?  It is not right for me thus to depend on strangers.”

“You need depend but a little while longer.  I have already made warm friends here, and, through them, secured for you employment.  A good place awaits you so soon as strength to fill it comes back to your weakened frame.”

“Angel!” exclaimed the young man, overcome with emotion at so unexpected a declaration.