She was naturally glad to be again restored to safety, and to revisit that home with its dear ones from which she was so nearly torn away for ever: and she was sorry to leave the schooner, because her heart had already begun to hover about it.
Which of the two feelings was the greater; judge for yourself reader.
Duty, however, and even safety called her away, and she must obey.
“When shall we go from this—when shall we be landed, I mean?” she inquired of the priest.
“I do not know exactly, child, but they told me to be prepared. But you have not, as yet, tasted food to-day; they have brought our morning meal: I have waited for you long,—come in and take some nourishment.”
Agnes briefly excused herself from accepting the kind invitation of the priest.
“She was not absolutely ill,” she said, “but certain thoughts had put her in a melancholy mood, and she felt no desire for food.”
She insisted, at the same time, on his going to take his morning repast.
He hesitated for some time to leave her, but was, at length, prevailed upon to go, by her persisting assurances that she was not ill.