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,