Agnes Wiltshire was an orphan. Her father had died during her infancy,
her mother during her childhood; but a happy home had been thrown open
to her, by a kind uncle and aunt, who gladly adopted her as their own,
and lavished on her every tenderness. Mr. and Mrs. Denham were generous
and warm-hearted people; their dwelling was elegant and commodious; the
society in which they mingled, as far as wealth and fashion is
concerned, unexceptionable. What more was wanting? Alas, they were
thoroughly worldly; their standard was the fashionable world; their
maxims were derived from the same source; and while regularly attending
the stated ordinances of the church, and esteeming themselves very
devout,--for were not their lives strictly moral?--they, in reality,
knew as little of heart religion, as the dwellers in a heathen land.
Such was the character of the people among whom Agnes Wiltshire had
attained the age of eighteen; and, surrounded by such influences, what
wonder, that she, too, partook of the same spirit, and was content to
sail down the sunny stream of life, without one thought of its
responsibilities, without one glance at the future that awaited her.
Long might she have continued thus, still pursuing the phantom of
pleasure, seeking ever for happiness, but never seeking aright, had she
not been suddenly startled, in the midst of worldly pursuits, by the
unexpected death of a gay and favorite companion, who, surrounded by all
of earthly happiness, was torn from her embrace. In the agony of
delirium, Agnes had beheld her, gliding, unconsciously, down the dark
valley and the shadow of death, and she trembled, when she felt how
totally unprepared she was to meet the King of Terrors, and yet how soon
she might be called to do so. In the midst of the gay dance, at the
festive board, where mirth ruled the hour, and honeyed flatteries were
poured into her ear, she was still haunted by that pallid, agonized
countenance, and by the voice, whose heart-rending accents she still
seemed to hear, as distinctly as when it cried, in imploring tones,
"Save me, oh save me, from the deep, dark waters. They surround me on
every side; have pity on me, for I sink, I sink, I sink."
So deep an effect had the loss of her young companion, and the
remembrance of her last hours, produced on Agnes, that she fell into a
dejection, from which nothing could rouse her, and her physical powers
soon gave unmistakable evidences of their sympathy with the mind, by
alarming prostration of strength. The physician, on being applied to,
recommended the usual restorative, change of air and scene; and a
pleasant summer's retreat was selected as Agnes's residence, for a few
weeks. Mrs. Denham would fain have accompanied her niece, but a violent
attack of the gout, to which Mr. Denham was subject, rendered it
impossible for her to leave him, and with many tender charges and
injunctions, Agnes was consigned to the care of a friend, travelling in
that direction.
Great was the change to Agnes, yet not the less beneficial on that
account. The absence of the glitter and show of fashionable life, the
quiet that reigned around, the beauty of the scenery, the kindness and
simplicity of the scattered inhabitants,--all delighted her; and the
group of admirers, who were wont to surround her, would scarcely have
recognized, in the warm-hearted, enthusiastic girl, who, in simple
attire, might daily be seen rambling through the fields, or, with a book
in hand, seated beneath a favorite oak, the accomplished and fashionable
Miss Wiltshire.
The lady with whom she resided was a clergyman's widow, who, deprived by
an untimely death of her natural protector and provider, sought to
augment her scanty means, by opening her house during the summer months
to casual visitors. She had been beautiful once, and she was young
still; but the glow and the freshness of life's youth had vanished, not
so much before time as sorrow, for peculiarly distressing circumstances
had attended the loss of her dearest friend, and now, disease had
almost, unsuspected, commenced its insidious ravages on a naturally
delicate constitution.
A mutual friendship was speedily formed between these two, so strangely
thrown together by circumstances. Agnes was charmed with Mrs. Goodwin's
sweet, pensive face, and gentle manners, while her character, so
beautifully exemplifying the power of religion to give support and
happiness, under all circumstances, won her deepest regard. On the other
hand, the genuine warmth, the unsophisticated manners, still uncorrupted
by daily flatteries and blandishments, the lofty and gifted mind, all
delighted Mrs. Goodwin, who had never before formed an acquaintance with
a female possessing so many attractions, and she gazed at her with
wonder and admiration, not unmixed with a sentiment of tenderness and
pity, as she thought of life's slippery paths, and of the injurious
influences of worldly pursuits and worldly gayeties.
But to the city Agnes must again return, for the roses have come back to
her cheeks, her previous dejection has vanished under the kind and
salutary ministrations of her friend, and she has no reasonable excuse
for remaining longer; besides, her friends have become impatient at her
stay,--the light and life of their dwelling,--how can they consent to
her tarrying longer; so the long and interesting conversations on high
and holy themes, which she had scarcely ever before heard alluded to but
in church, must be relinquished, and the quiet scenes of Nature
exchanged for the bustle and show of city life.