him but fully trusted to hearing from him soon with all particulars; and to having it in her power then to write all the thousand things, which, when she had somewhat recovered from her bewilderment and distress, she longed to say to him while he was yet within her reach. The possibility too of seeing him once again, before the deep seas really separated them; and the conviction that, if she expressed a decided wish to that effect, she could indubitably secure it; kept her calmer and easier in mind, than she could have thought possible under circumstances so trying.

As days and days went by, and at last the time approached which he had mentioned as the limit of his stay, she concluded delays had occurred; and, though restless and anxious of course, looked con

fidently, hour after hour, to seeing him arrive near her again, to bid her his final Good Bye. The receipt, therefore, at last, of a letter from him, dated "On board 'the Nautilus," "-conveyed to shore by the pilot, and announcing a fair wind and spreading sails,-was a blow almost as startling and overpowering as the former one, and left her far less able to bear up against it. As long as she knew he was near, and believed she could see him if she chose, nay, felt convinced she would do so; the spring of that thought kept up her strength, and more or less her spirits: But when she knew he was really gone, and that years perhaps would elapse before she should see his face again; it seemed to her as if every channel of happiness, or pleasure of any kind, was quite closed up; and life was no longer worth the keeping.

For awhile, she gave way to these desponding, despairing feelings-she could not help it. But, with time, reason and firm principle enabled her to overcome them. She began, as she reflected, to blame herself for allowing her mind to be so engrossed, even with one who had once been to her as her own child: and though, alas!-there where she should have been able to turn for sympathy and support, and have found, in the gratified consciousness of duties fulfilled, her natural and proper comfort, she could not, she was not suffered, to appeal,-she soon made, nevertheless, for herself, as pure and wellregulated minds will always do, other sources of distraction and other duties, which if not so sacred or so consoling, were worthy and holy and effective still: and she reaped-as all who bear resignedly

and struggle honestly, will reap-she

reaped her reward.

But in the reaping, she had discovered some tares, in that crop of feelings and thoughts she had hitherto been garnering in her breast. She recognised themshrinkingly, blushingly, alarmedly-in her first utter despair at his loss; in the unwonted, overwhelming emotion, the multifarious, hitherto-inexperienced sensations, of that sudden, painful, tender parting. She recognised them-or feared she did, for she scarcely knew-and she plucked them out! She loved him, thought of him, still and ever; and prayed daily for his weal but she loved him and thought of him, now, with calmness, and with cheerfulness of mind. She was his steady, faithful, tender friend always; so to remain while she had life: but angels could

have found no morbid or doubtful spot, now if ever-in her schooled and chas

tened heart.

Scarce was this work well done; and ere Walter could quite have reached the distant shore to which he was bound when Mr. Landor was killed, out hunting, and Agnes became a widow.

Agnes lamented for her husband, and sincerely; spite of all. He had been no companion or friend to her; he had been -we will not say what-more and worse. Still, she had lived near him now so long; his face, his voice were so familiar to her; her own disposition was so forgiving, so clinging, so affectionate: She had so yearned often and often to find, or to make, in him, what she had fondly thought to find when she married,—to be able to love, to trust, to respect, to look up to him, as it is