Her eyes sank, and she fell into a reverie; her lips moved, and she faintly smiled. I continued to watch her, but within me there had suddenly begun a dreadful conflict. I pronounced the word ‘God,’ but I could not understand it, and the struggle of my spirit rapidly became a horror, which, even as my companion sat with her eyes sunk, faintly smiling and her lips moving, caused me to shriek aloud and bury my face in my hands. In a moment I felt her arm round my neck; I felt the pressure of her cheek to mine; and I heard her voice murmuring in my ear. ‘It is my loneliness,’ I cried; ‘it is my heart-breaking loneliness! I walk with blinded eyes in utter darkness. Oh, if I could but know all, if I could but know all _now_, I would be content to die in the next instant.’ She continued to fondle me with her arm round my neck, and to soothe me with words which I understood only in part. Presently she removed her arm, on which I arose and went to the porthole, and looked at the white sea swelling into the sky as the ship rolled; then, turning, I saw that Alice had resumed her seat and was wistfully watching me with a face of grief. I went to her side, and, kneeling down, hid my face on her lap. ‘You will teach me to feel that I am not alone,’ I exclaimed. ‘Speak to me about God. Make me know Him and understand Him, that, if my memory should never return to me, if my life should be the horrible blank it now is, I may not be alone.’ I felt her fingers toying with my hair. ‘I have seen the steward,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, opening the door; and then, pausing, she cried out, ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Do not ask, mother.’ ‘But, my darling, I fear that anything that affects you may prove harmful.’ I returned to my chair and dropped my veil. I felt the truth of the mother’s words, and could not bear to meet her gaze. ‘Will the steward find a place at my side for Agnes?’ asked Alice. Mrs. Lee replied yes, looking from her daughter to me as though she sought, but was unwilling to ask for, an explanation for my kneeling at the girl’s side and hiding my face in her lap. ‘That is the Church of St. Nicholas, at Newcastle-on-Tyne,’ said Alice, pointing to a photograph upon the cabin wall; ‘and that,’ said she, pointing to another photograph, ‘is our home at Jesmond.’ I arose to look at them, and whilst I looked, Alice talked of Newcastle-on-Tyne, and of the scenery of Jesmond Dene, and of Gosforth and the Town Moor. Her pleasant gentle speech brought her mother into the subject, and some while before the luncheon bell was rung in the saloon I had recovered my composure.