"No," said the sweet voice again, that sounded like music to the ear of the unintentional listener; "No," she repeated, "I have felt tolerably contented with my lot, and but for the remembrance of my friends and the sorrow they must have endured on my account, thinking, as they certainly must, that a watery grave has been my portion,—but for such remembrances I should have been comparatively happy. But you will never sleep," she added playfully, "if I go on chattering in this manner, so I will leave you to your much needed repose."
At this moment, the outer door of the cottage opened, and the Captain, accompanied by Mr. Williamson and his daughter, whom he had met as he was returning from the ship, entered the room, and a mutual introduction to Mr. Clifford took place.
The Captain, as he named "Ellen Williamson," looked roguishly at Mr. Clifford, who returned his glance with an equally amused smile, but one that the Captain could not comprehend. Not sorry to find he was in the right, and with a little mischievous pleasure, as he imagined his friend's discomfiture, when the fair stranger,—for such from her conversation she evidently was,—should make her appearance, Ernest's eyes were riveted at the door, which communicated with an inner apartment, and at length his patient watching was rewarded.
The fisherman's wife, overhearing the Captain's somewhat loud though cheerful voice, hastened to meet him again, accompanied by Agnes, who was anxious to resume the employment which astonishment and emotion had caused her to throw aside. Besides, it must be confessed, she felt in no way averse to see again the stranger, whose striking similarity to her friend, had so deeply overcome her. From Mrs. Pierce she had already learned his name, and also a sketch of his history, from the period of her first acquaintance with him, and thrillingly interesting as it was, Agnes could not help feeling attracted towards one who had suffered so much, and who, like herself, had been an unwilling exile from his native land.
Captain Pierce, who was sitting with his face turned from the door, and who, moreover, was engaged in relating to Mr. Williamson the particulars of his voyage, did not, at first, observe the new comer; but as she advanced nearer, he abruptly paused in the conversation, and with a glance—as full of astonishment and perplexity as Ernest, who was now an amused spectator, could desire—intently regarded her.
"I see you wonder, Captain, how this young lady, whose name is Miss Wiltshire," said Mrs. Williamson, "took up her residence in this out of the way place; but Elliot, on his return voyage from H—— in November, happened, fortunately, to rescue her from the waves, into which she was thrown by the upsetting of a boat, and having brought her here, she has remained ever since in this dreary place, at least it must be such to her, for she has had no opportunity of returning to her friends."
With her customary grace, Agnes returned the Captain's and Mr. Clifford's respectful greeting, and resumed again her embroidery, disclaiming, however, as she did so, the epithet of dreary, as being quite inappropriate, in her estimation, to the place which had afforded her so hospitable a shelter.
"It would be impossible for me to find any spot dreary," she said, "inhabited by so many kind friends, and from whom I have received such true tokens of hospitality; and while I confess to an eager desire to behold again my relatives, it will not be without very great pain that I shall part from those whose warmest sympathies and tenderest care were exercised towards a helpless stranger."
"I have heard," said Mr. Pierce, turning to Mrs. Williamson, whose countenance told the emotion she felt at the intimation of Agnes's speedy departure, "I have heard of some entertaining 'angels unawares,' and I should judge you have been thus fortunate, Mrs. W."
"You may, indeed, say so, Sir," said the good woman, wiping away a tear with the corner of her apron; "I cannot tell you what a blessing this young lady has been, not only to my family, but to the whole neighborhood. Indeed, Sir, you would be surprised to see what a change has been effected by her in this place. Miss Wiltshire has established a day school for the children, and a night class for the young people; and our Sabbaths, that some spent in sleep, others in doing nothing, or worse than nothing, now pass in a very different manner, for we have both Church and Sabbath school, and 'come up with those that keep holy day.' What we shall do without her, I cannot imagine, though, to be sure, it would be dreadfully selfish in me to wish her to stay longer, for those to whom she belongs must be breaking their hearts after so lovely a creature."