ousing from her reverie, she
gazed on garden, fields, and distant woods, but more lovingly and
lingeringly dwelt her glance on a lake that lay embosomed between the
meadow and the grove, partly skirted by trees that grew even to its
edge, and partly by the rich grass, whose vivid color betrayed the
influence of those placid waters, that now reflected every glowing tint,
and every delicate hue of the peerless sunset sky.

Quiet at all times, the stillness of the scene was now unbroken, save by
the twittering of some belated swallow, the chirp of the cricket, or the
evening hymn of the forest songsters, ere they sank to grateful rest.
All was peace without, but troubled and anxious was the heart of the
solitary occupant of that apartment, who, though for a moment aroused
from deep, and, as it appeared from the expression of her countenance,
painful thought, by the beauty of the landscape, again summoned her
wandering thoughts, and returned to the theme which had so deeply
engrossed her.

A slight tap at the door once more aroused her, and in answer to her
invitation, "Walk in," a lady entered the room, and affectionately
addressed the young girl.

"Forgive my intrusion, my dear Miss Wiltshire, but I feared, from your
remaining so long in your room, that you were not well, and have come
to ascertain whether I am correct or not."

"I am much obliged for your kindness, but I am quite well, in body, at
least," was the reply, while the lips quivered, and the eyes were
suffused with tears.

There was silence for a few moments between them, for Mrs. Gordon was
too delicate to allude to emotions, which her companion evidently strove
to conceal, and with the nature of which she was totally unacquainted.
At length, however, she broke the quiet that had reigned for some
moments in the apartment, by an observation on the service they had both
that day attended.

"Accustomed, as you are, to city churches and city congregations, it
could scarcely be expected that our unpretending house of prayer, with
its humble worshippers, could have found much favor in your eyes, Miss
Wiltshire?"

"And yet, strange to say," exclaimed Agnes, lifting her fine dark eyes
to Mrs. Gordon's sweet, though pensive face, "that unpretending church,
those earnest worshippers, and, above all, that simple, faithful
discourse, affected me far more deeply than any heard from the lips of
the most eloquent divine, in a gorgeous edifice crowded with the =elit