Woman As She Should Be Part 3

But the bell has rung once, twice, its warning note, and now, for the third time, it peals out on the clear air. The last clasp of the hand, the hurried embrace, the fervent "G.o.d bless you," is given, and those who are to remain have trodden the plank, regained the wharf, and now turn, before departing to their respective homes, to take a farewell glance at the steamer, as she moves slowly and gracefully away, bearing, it may be, from many their heart's most cherished idols. The pa.s.sengers are a.s.sembled on deck, watching the receding sh.o.r.es, and many handkerchiefs are waving a last response to those eager glances, an adieu which, alas, few there dream shall prove final to so many.

At the farther end of the deck, close by the railing, is seated a lady in travelling costume. She is alone, for her companion, an elderly gentleman, has left her to salute a friend whose face he had just recognized among the crowd of pa.s.sengers.

"A lady accompanies you, I see," was the remark made to Mr. Cameron by his friend, the Rev. Mr. Dunseer, after the first salutations were over.

"Yes, Miss Wiltshire, from B----.

"Miss Wiltshire? I thought I recognized the countenance as one I had seen before."

"Ah, so you have had a previous acquaintance with her."

"Yes; for I am sure it is the same person. She is the niece, is she not, of Mr. Denham, of B----; but I first met her when she was visiting the part of the country in which I was stationed for a year or two."

"I remember perfectly the time," was the reply. "Her relatives had become alarmed at her failing health, and change of air had been ordered by the physician."

"And so she is going to H----."

"Yes, on a visit to her mother's brother, Mr. Edwards. His only daughter is about to be married, and they have sent for her to be bride's maid.

Miss Wiltshire has never seen any of the family as yet, with the exception of Mr. Edwards, who came to B----, on business, and then, for the first time, had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with his niece."

"It is rather singular," was the reply, while a smile lighted up the fine countenance of the speaker, "that I am on a somewhat similar errand. The groom, who for many years has been an intimate friend of mine, insisted on my performing the marriage ceremony. I maintained that it was the lady's privilege to select a clergyman, but, as he said that their wishes were one in that respect, I was compelled to concede, and am on my way thither for that purpose."

"I am heartily glad of it," said Mr. Cameron. "Miss Wiltshire will, I am sure, be pleased to see you again, and she will now have more agreeable company than an old man like me can possibly be; so if you have no objection we will join her, for she appears to be engaged in a converse with solitude."

"I was about proposing to do so, for to renew my acquaintance with one whom I had learned, during her brief sojourn, so highly to esteem, will indeed be an agreeable episode in my journey."

While this conversation was carried on between the two friends, Agnes had risen from her seat, and with one hand on the railing was leaning slightly over the side of the steamer, watching the ebb and flow of the transparent waves, or gazing fondly on the sh.o.r.es fast fading in the distance. She was not apt to be melancholy; indeed, she seldom allowed herself to indulge in a mood so opposed to that cheerfulness which should characterize a Christian; but as she stood there gazing on the mingled beauties of sea and land, more beautiful than ever at this hour, when the golden hues of sunset were reflected in the placid waters, and touched with fresh glory the distant hills, dark and gloomy shadows stole over her spirit.

And, indeed, distressing to youth, so dependent on the kindness and sympathy of others, were the circ.u.mstances under which she was now placed. She had bade adieu to the friends who had watched over her from childhood, not as. .h.i.therto, during her brief visits, with the loving farewell and the earnest injunction to speedily return; but cold looks and colder words had marked that parting, with the very distant intimation, on the part of her uncle, that if, on the expiration of her sojourn among strangers, her fanatical views; as he termed them, remained unchanged, she must expect to find herself banished from the home of her childhood. Poor Agnes! a painful decision awaited her. With all the affection of her warm and unsophisticated spirit, had she repaid the tenderness that had been lavished upon her, and now to find herself charged with having acted a foolish and ungrateful part,--to be thrust forth from a home of luxury,--from the attention and sympathy of friends,--to battle with a world that has but little kindness, in general, to spare for those who need it most; these were painful and hara.s.sing thoughts, and what wonder they weighed down that gentle and timid spirit, and suffused those l.u.s.trous eyes which, until lately, had seldom shed the tear of sorrow, except for other's woes.

But as, lost in these troubled reflections, she glanced at the giant waves beneath her, suddenly a sweet promise of Holy Writ was applied to her agitated mind, "When thou pa.s.sest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the floods, they shall not overflow thee,"--and immediately her spirit grew calmer, while a sense of peace, comfort and security, quelled each rising doubt.

"I have nothing to fear," she murmured.

"His voice commands the tempest forth, And stills the stormy wave,-- And though his arm be strong to smite, 'Tis also strong to save."

Agnes was aroused from her reverie by Mr. Cameron's cheerful voice.

"My dear Miss Wiltshire, allow me to present to you an old friend."

She turned to salute the stranger, but what was her surprise and delight to find in him the clergyman under whose ministrations she had so largely profited. The pleasure, indeed, seemed mutual, for though Mr.

Dunseer, having shortly after Agnes's departure for the city left that part of the country, had consequently heard nothing more of her, he still remembered his young and attentive hearer, and had often since then desired to see her again, and ascertain if indeed the impressions made were lasting, or had been obliterated amid the whirl and gayety of fashionable life.

Still more delighted was Agnes when she learned of his destination; it seemed a link binding her to those with whom, with the exception of Mr.

Edwards, she was totally unacquainted; and from the depth of her heart she silently thanked the kind Providence who had thus directed her steps, and permitted a meeting so fraught with comfort and encouragement at the very time most needed.

Long and pleasant was the converse of friends that evening, and it was not until some time after the sun had set, and dark and heavy clouds, sweeping across the sky like armies gathering to battle, had obscured the light of the rising moon, that Agnes, with a heart peaceful and trusting, retired to her state-room, and in spite of the dash of waves, and the wail of the rising wind, resigned herself to slumbers calm and blest.

But from pleasant dreams of home and friends, she was suddenly aroused by the confusion and hurried tramping of feet above her head, mingled with the shrieks of women and children, and the fearful e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of terrified men. Agnes started up, scarcely realizing that she was indeed "on the wide billows of the raging sea." Drawing aside the curtains from her berth, she glanced out into the cabin. It was not day, for the lights were burning brightly, but the place was a scene of wild dismay; women wringing their hands; children clinging to their mothers; all bespoke such terror and despair, that for a moment Agnes felt bewildered; but quickly recovering herself, and hastily rising, she was soon in the midst of the terrified group, where she was immediately joined by Mr. Cameron and his friend.

"What is the matter?" was her first e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"The steamer is on fire," was the fearful reply. "Quick, my dear girl, secure whatever you find to be most necessary, while they are getting the boats ready."

With that self-possession so invaluable in the time of danger, Agnes hastily, but calmly, equipped herself comfortably, secured about her person a small purse of money, and then aided the other lady pa.s.sengers in their frantic efforts to prepare for this trying emergency. Very soon the Captain's stentorian voice was heard,--"The boats are ready, ladies, there is no time to be lost."

With a face pallid as death, yet serene in its very paleness, Agnes, accompanied by her two friends, and followed by a number of the other pa.s.sengers, ascended the staircase, and, having gained the deck, glanced for an instant at the fearful scene.

There was, indeed, as the Captain had affirmed, no time to be lost. The fire, which had originated in the engine-room, from the carelessness of one of the hands, was now making fearful headway, in spite of the continued efforts of the sailors by deluging it with buckets of water, to mitigate in a measure, its ravages. All the fore-part of the vessel was burning, and awfully sublime was the spectacle as the flames mounted higher and higher, casting their lurid glare over the intensely dark waste of waters, whose turbid and sullen waves, lashed into fury by a fierce north-eastern blast, seemed warning the unhappy sufferers of the fearful fate that awaited them, should they commit themselves more immediately to its mercy.

But the danger of embarkation in those frail boats, on an ocean that every moment grew more tempestuous, was almost lost sight of in contemplation of the nearer and more fearful fate that awaited them should they linger; and quickly, and with scarce a murmur of apprehension, the boat was filled.

While Mr. Cameron was a.s.sisting Agnes into the frail boat, Mr. Dunseer, who had secured a life-preserver, as soon as she was safely seated handed it to her, observing that if the boat should be upset, by clinging to it she might be preserved from a watery grave.

Thanking him for his kind consideration at such a time, Agnes inquired anxiously of the two gentlemen whether they were not to accompany her.

"No;" was the reply of Mr. Cameron. "I fear we must be separated, but only I trust for a time. This boat is not sufficiently large to hold more than the lady pa.s.sengers and the sailors who are to manage it. We are to embark, as soon as you are safely off, in another, but as both will steer for the same sh.o.r.e, and keep near each other as much as possible, I trust, by the mercy of Providence, we shall meet again on =terra firma=.

"Yes," responded the minister, who had been for a moment silent, and his clear voice sounded like the spirit of peace above the roaring flames and raging billows, "we are steering, I trust, for the same sh.o.r.e, and should we never meet again on earth, may it be our happy lot to greet each other in the haven of eternal rest, haven to take the shipwrecked in."

Agnes's heart was for a moment too full to speak, but controlling herself, she said to Mr. Cameron in a hurried whisper, "If anything should happen to me, and you again behold my friends, tell them, oh, tell them, that my last thoughts were for them; tell them not to lament for me, for I shall be at rest, but, oh, I charge, I implore them to meet me in heaven!"

A burst of tears closed the sentence; she could no longer restrain her feelings.

"We must leave you now, my dear child," said Mr. Cameron, after promising compliance with her request. "May heaven bless and help you."

"And may He who holds the winds and the waves in the hollow of his hand, preserve you, and all, through the hours of this terrible night," was the solemn e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of Mr. Dunseer, as pressing for the last time her hand, the final order was given, the boat pushed out from the side of the burning vessel, and she was left in the midst of strangers; strangers personally, yet linked together by the sympathy arising from mutual danger.

CHAPTER VII.

"Letters from home at last," said Arthur Bernard, as he entered the private salon of an hotel, located in a pretty town in the south of France.

"I had begun to think our friends had quite forgotten us," he continued, addressing his sister, who, seated in a recess formed by a large bow-window, had been anxiously watching for his return.

"You have not opened any of them yet," she said, as she came eagerly forward to receive her share.

"No;" was the reply. "I knew how anxiously you were waiting, and hastened that we might read them together."

"Always thoughtful, dear brother, of my comfort, you quite spoil me,"

said Ella, with an affectionate smile, but in a tone, whose subdued sound, proved a striking contrast to her former vivacity.

For the next few moments silence reigned in the apartment, for each were busily engaged in perusing their respective epistles.

It was broken at length by an exclamation from Ella, which arrested her brother's attention, and looking up from the opened sheet he held in his hand, he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed with alarm,--