"But you know not, my kind friend, what mental struggles I have passed through this afternoon, nor how conflicting feelings are yet agitating my soul. I hear the voice of duty, but it calls me to tread a rugged path. Could I always remain with you, secluded from the gay world, far removed from its temptations and allurements, then, indeed, would I gladly make my choice, and say, 'This people shall be my people, and their God my God;' but in a few days I must depart, and, again, in the haunts of the busy city, and surrounded by the gayeties of fashionable life, I fear I shall feel no more those sweet and sacred influences, which have been as the breath of heaven to my soul." "'My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest!' Is not that a sufficiently encouraging promise, dear Agnes? Had you nought but your own strength to rely on, you might well fear; but forget not Him who has declared, 'If any lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given.'" CHAPTER II. Agnes Wiltshire was an orphan. Her father had died during her infancy, her mother during her childhood; but a happy home had been thrown open to her, by a kind uncle and aunt, who gladly adopted her as their own, and lavished on her every tenderness. Mr. and Mrs. Denham were generous and warm-hearted people; their dwelling was elegant and commodious; the society in which they mingled, as far as wealth and fashion is concerned, unexceptionable. What more was wanting? Alas, they were thoroughly worldly; their standard was the fashionable world; their maxims were derived from the same source; and while regularly attending the stated ordinances of the church, and esteeming themselves very devout,--for were not their lives strictly moral?--they, in reality, knew as little of heart religion, as the dwellers in a heathen land.