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Page 22
One day, soon after her recovery, she was sitting by the fire, when
Ellen, the fisherman's daughter, to whom we have before alluded, entered
the room, and observing that Agnes looked somewhat downcast, kindly
inquired the cause, for the gratitude she had manifested for every
little act of kindness, had deeply endeared her to those with whom she
was now associated.
"I hope you do not feel any worse, dear lady," she said.
"Oh, no, Ellen," was the reply, while a smile instantly dissipated the
shadow that had obscured for a moment her countenance. "And how deeply
grateful should I feel," she added after a short pause, "first to my
Heavenly Father, and then to you and your kind family, whose unwearied
care and attention have been so instrumental in my recovery; and I trust
yet to have it in my power to show my sense of your kindness."
"Don't, Miss Wiltshire, please don't say anything more. Why, we only did
what any persons, with common feelings, would have done."
"Nevertheless," persisted Agnes, "I feel under very great obligations to
you all. But I will tell you what made me look a little melancholy when
you came in. Your father informed me, this morning, that there would be
no possibility of my communicating with my home until spring, and thus
my relatives and friends, not having any intelligence of me, for so long
a time, will certainly believe that I have found a watery grave."
"But when you return home, what a delightful surprise they will get;
why, it would be worth enduring months of pain for," said Ellen, who
seemed to have the happy faculty of always looking at the bright side.
"Very true, Ellen, but"--and an involuntary sigh followed the
sentence--"you know not, and I trust will never know, from experience,
that 'Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.'"
"I know something about that, too, Miss Agnes, though maybe you think me
too young; but, indeed, there was once a weary while, when I watched the
sea day after day, that is, when the scalding tears would let me see
it, and shuddered to hear the fierce winds moaning round our dwelling,
as though they had a human heart, and sighed and raved for some lost
love. Oh, how I remember the day, when that long-looked for vessel came
back again, for I had got up more down-hearted than ever, and I thought
it no use hoping and waiting, for I shall never see it again,--and then
the salt sea was not salter than the tears I shed, as I sat down on a
rock by the shore, and thought of the stalwart form that would never
meet my eye again, and of the kind voice that should never sound in my
ears,--and as I looked on the sea, its bright waves rippling and smiling
beneath my feet, it seemed to laugh and mock me cruelly, and I almost
wished myself,--I know it was very wicked, Miss Agnes,--far, far beneath
it, where I should forget my troubles, and my heart cease its aching.
And then I laid my head on the rock, and covered my face with my hands,
and cried as though I should never cease, until I felt something touch
my face, and a voice that I knew too well said, 'Ellen, Ellen, what art
thou breaking thy heart for in this manner?'--and I looked up, and saw
two eyes, that, a moment before, I thought death had closed, shining
brightly on me, and--but you have seen him yourself, Miss Agnes, and can
easy guess how happy I was. Oh, it made up for all my weary days, and
wretched, sleepless nights."
Agnes had listened with much interest to the simple narrative, and
while her eyes filled with tears, she murmured, almost unconsciously,
"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin."
We would not like to vouch for it, but, perhaps, while Ellen had been
speaking, with the remembrance of her relatives, another image had
arisen in her mind, and she thought, "And he, too, he will hear of what
they will deem my terrible fate."
There was pleasure, mingled with pain, as her heart suggested, that
eyes, albeit unused to weep, might even now be shedding a tear over her
untimely doom; for Arthur did not, could not, conceal the deep interest
he felt in her welfare; and as she called to mind his kindness, his
sympathy, when all the world seemed dark to her, she felt her heart
thrill with strange emotion, and she asked herself, again and again,
"Shall I ever be so happy as to see him once more?"
"Mr. Elliot is, indeed," said she, in reply to Ellen, after a short
pause, "worthy of you, as far as I have had an opportunity of judging,
and that is saying a good deal, Ellen. But I must tell you what I was
thinking of, this morning, while I sat here alone. You told me, the
other day, that the children of the neighborhood were growing up in
fearful ignorance, destitute, as they are, of a teacher, and I thought,
if it met with the approbation of their parents, that I could not be
more usefully or happily employed, during the time that must intervene
before I have an opportunity of returning to my friends, than
instructing those little ones, a few hours each day. Our evenings, too,
might be pleasantly occupied, for I overheard you, when I was lying ill,
expressing a wish to know how to write, and these long winter evenings
will afford abundant opportunity for your taking lessons, and any of
your young companions, that may wish to join you."
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