er steps, that yet seemed all too slow for his impatient
spirit, he hastened to greet the long-mourned wanderer.

He paused a moment at the door of the library, to calm the tumult of his
soul, and then slowly opening it, entered the room.

Agnes,--for it was indeed her own dear self,--had thrown off her cloak
and hood, and sank back on a sofa, almost overcome with emotion, at
finding herself once more at home,--and, perhaps, a little troubled to
learn what reception she was likely to expect, from those who had parted
with her so coldly.

She started up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Miss Wiltshire, this is, indeed, one of the happiest moments of my
life," said Arthur, as clasping her hand, he raised it, involuntarily,
to his lips, and with a voice, tremulous with emotion, continued:

"We have mourned you as one long since departed, but a gracious
Providence has surely miraculously restored you again to your home, and
your deeply sorrowing friends."

"Mine has, indeed, been a miraculous preservation, and one which
demands the most grateful acknowledgment of my heart."

"I trust to have the pleasure of listening to its details, by and bye,
and in joining with you in praising Him, who has so graciously given you
back to us all. But I must not forget that you are, I am sure, very
anxious to see your uncle."

"I am, indeed," was the reply. "Is he dangerously ill?" she earnestly
inquired. "The man told me, he believed my aunt was out, but would go
and ascertain."

"Mrs. Denham went out two hours ago, to visit a sick neighbor, and has
not yet returned. Your uncle has, indeed, been very ill, and is still
quite an invalid; but it has all originated in sorrow for your loss, and
remorse at having been the chief instrument in sending you away. You
will find him wonderfully changed," added Arthur, with kind
consideration; for, fully aware of the circumstances under which she had
left home, he knew she must feel anxiety respecting the terms on which,
it was probable, she would be permitted to remain with her relatives.

"It was only this evening, he was lamenting his loss, and declaiming, in
bitterest terms, against his former conduct, declaring, that, unless the
sea restored his darling to him, his gray hairs would go down with
sorrow to the grave."

Agnes wept tears of joy at this intelligence, but recovering herself,
and recollecting Mr. Clifford, who had accompanied her from the vessel,
and who, seated at t