t of a whole hour to spend as she pleased. She had
chosen to spend it in hearing the latter half of a sermon preached at
Paul's Cross. For, despite Mistress Winter's disdainful incredulity,
the assertion was the simple truth; though that lady, being one of the
numerous persons who cannot imagine the possibility of anything
unpleasant to themselves being delightful to others, had been unable to
give credence to the statement. As to the charge of dancing in Finsbury
Fields, poor Agnes had never in her life been guilty of such a piece of
dissipation. But she knew what to expect when she came in sight of the
clock of Saint Paul's Cathedral, and became mournfully conscious that
she would have to confess where she had been: for Mistress Winter had
peculiar ideas about religion, and a particular horror of being
righteous overmuch, which usually besets people who have no tendency in
that direction. Anything in the shape of a sermon was her special
abhorrence. Every Sunday morning Agnes was required to wait upon her
liege lady to matins--that piece of piety lasting for the week: and
three times in the year, without the faintest consideration of her
feelings--always terribly outraged thereby--poor Agnes was dragged
before the tribunal of the family confessor, and required to give a list
of her sins since the last occasion. But anything beyond this, and
sermons in particular, found no favour in the eyes of Mistress Winter.

Generally speaking, Agnes shrank from the mere _thought_ of a lecture
from this terrible dame. But this time, beyond the unpleasant sensation
of the moment, it produced no effect upon her. Her whole mind was full
of something else; something which she had never heard before, and could
never forget again; something which made this hard, dreary, practical
world seem entirely changed to her, as though suddenly bathed in a flood
of golden light.

God loved her. This was what Agnes had heard. God, who could do
everything, who had all the universe at His command, loved her, the poor
orphan, the unlettered drudge; penniless, despised, unattractive--God
loved her, just as she was. She drank in the glad tidings, as a parched
soil drinks the rain.

But this was not all. God wanted her to love Him. He sought for her
love, He cared for it. Amid all the hearts laid at His feet, He would
miss hers if she did not give it. The thought came upon her like a new
revelation from Heaven, direct to herself.

The