Agnes was aroused from her reverie by Mr. Cameron's cheerful voice.

"My dear Miss Wiltshire, allow me to present to you an old friend."

She turned to salute the stranger, but what was her surprise and delight
to find in him the clergyman under whose ministrations she had so
largely profited. The pleasure, indeed, seemed mutual, for though Mr.
Dunseer, having shortly after Agnes's departure for the city left that
part of the country, had consequently heard nothing more of her, he
still remembered his young and attentive hearer, and had often since
then desired to see her again, and ascertain if indeed the impressions
made were lasting, or had been obliterated amid the whirl and gayety of
fashionable life.

Still more delighted was Agnes when she learned of his destination; it
seemed a link binding her to those with whom, with the exception of Mr.
Edwards, she was totally unacquainted; and from the depth of her heart
she silently thanked the kind Providence who had thus directed her
steps, and permitted a meeting so fraught with comfort and encouragement
at the very time most needed.

Long and pleasant was the converse of friends that evening, and it was
not until some time after the sun had set, and dark and heavy clouds,
sweeping across the sky like armies gathering to battle, had obscured
the light of the rising moon, that Agnes, with a heart peaceful and
trusting, retired to her state-room, and in spite of the dash of waves,
and the wail of the rising wind, resigned herself to slumbers calm and
blest.