“I may seem strange,” remarked Miss Weston to her new friend, Miss Vernon, the next morning, as they sat looking at the sea, so changed in its aspect from that of the evening before, “that I should in the company of comparative strangers, feel so little reserve.  I know my aunt would chide me severely, but I have not felt so happy for many years.  It may be that the influence of the ocean is so hallowed and peaceful that our souls live their truer lives, but I have never before opened my heart so fully to strangers.  I wonder if I have overstepped any of the lines of propriety?”

“I might have thought so once, but I see and feel differently now.  I think the soul knows its kin, and that it is not a matter of years but of states which causes it to unfold.”

“I am glad you feel so.  I seemed so strange to myself, ever conservative, now so open and free.  I do not feel towards any of the others here as I do towards you and your friends.  I regret that I have not a few days more to enjoy you all,” she said quite sadly, “as my aunt has written for me to come to her the last of this week.”

Miss Vernon could not help thinking how much more this fair being had to impart to her aunt, for this season of rest and enjoyment.  “I wonder if the time will ever come,” she often asked herself, “when we can go when and where we gravitate, and not be forced mechanically.”

“I wish people could follow their natural attractions once in a while, at least,” said Miss Edith, and she fixed her fair blue eyes on the sea.

Florence started; for it seemed as though she had read her thoughts.

“I suppose these limitations and restrictions are for our good, else they would not be,” replied Miss Vernon.

“And the desire to shake them off is natural, if not right; is it not?”

“Natural, no doubt, and pleasant, if we could have the desire granted; but duty is greater than desire, and circumstances may at times impel us to the performance of the one rather than favor us with the gratification of the other.  What I mean is, that it is our duty sometimes to take a part in scenes in which our hearts cannot fully sympathize.”

“And yet you say you are attracted heart and mind to Mr. Wyman and his daughter.  Is it not possible that, notwithstanding this, your duty calls you elsewhere,—­that some other soul may be in need of your presence?”

“You have questioned me very close, Miss Weston, but I will answer you promptly:  I know of no one who needs me, else I should certainly go.  Remember this,—­in following our attractions we should never lose sight of our duties.  They should go hand in hand.”

“Very true.  I feel that my aunt needs me, and I will go at once; this very day.  I have lost a part of my restless self, and gained the repose I so much needed, since I have been here; and I am indebted to you and your friends for the exchange.  Now I will go where duty calls.”