words! and her looks had been more cruel than they.

I was still weeping when Sister Agnes came into the room. She had but
just returned from Eastbury. She knelt beside me, and took me in her
arms and kissed me, and wiped away my tears. "Why was I crying?" she
asked. I told her of all that Lady Chillington had said.

"Oh! cruel, cruel of her to treat you thus!" she said. "Can nothing move
her--nothing melt that heart of adamant? But, Janet, dear, you must not
let her sharp words wound you so deeply. Would that my love could shield
you from such trials in future. But that cannot always be. You must
strive to regard such things as part of that stern discipline of life
which is designed to tutor our wayward hearts and rebellious spirits,
and bring them into harmony with a will superior to our own. And now you
must tell me all about your voyage down the Adair, and your rescue by
that brave George Strickland. Ah! how grieved I was, when the news was
brought to Deepley Walls, that I could not hasten to you, and see with
my own eyes that you had come to no harm! But I was chained to my post,
and could not stir."

Scarcely had Sister Agnes done speaking when the air was filled with a
strain of music that seemed to be more sweet and solemn than anything I
had ever heard before. All the soreness melted out of my heart as I
listened; all my troubles seemed to take to themselves wings, and life
to put on an altogether different aspect from any it had ever worn to me
before. I saw clearly that I had not been so good a girl in many ways as
I might have been. I would try my best not to be so inattentive at
church in future, and I would never, no, not even on the coldest night
in winter, neglect to say my prayers before getting into bed.