With her customary grace, Agnes returned the Captain's and Mr. Clifford's respectful greeting, and resumed again her embroidery, disclaiming, however, as she did so, the epithet of dreary, as being quite inappropriate, in her estimation, to the place which had afforded her so hospitable a shelter. "It would be impossible for me to find any spot dreary," she said, "inhabited by so many kind friends, and from whom I have received such true tokens of hospitality; and while I confess to an eager desire to behold again my relatives, it will not be without very great pain that I shall part from those whose warmest sympathies and tenderest care were exercised towards a helpless stranger." "I have heard," said Mr. Pierce, turning to Mrs. Williamson, whose countenance told the emotion she felt at the intimation of Agnes's speedy departure, "I have heard of =some= entertaining 'angels unawares,' and I should judge you have been thus fortunate, Mrs. W." "You may, indeed, say so, Sir," said the good woman, wiping away a tear with the corner of her apron; "I cannot tell you what a blessing this young lady has been, not only to my family, but to the whole neighborhood. Indeed, Sir, you would be surprised to see what a change has been effected by her in this place. Miss Wiltshire has established a day school for the children, and a night class for the young people; and our Sabbaths, that some spent in sleep, others in doing nothing, or worse than nothing, now pass in a very different manner, for we have both Church and Sabbath school, and 'come up with those that keep holy day.' What we shall do without her, I cannot imagine, though, to be sure, it would be dreadfully selfish in me to wish her to stay longer, for those to whom she belongs must be breaking their hearts after so lovely a creature." The above conversation, which was addressed particularly to the Captain, was delivered in an under-tone, and was therefore unheard by Agnes, who was an attentive listener to Mr. Clifford, as he called up all the varied powers of his fine intellect for the purpose of describing the scenes through which he had passed; and he was well rewarded for his efforts by the sweet smile, and breathless interest, with which Agnes heard the narration. CHAPTER XII. "What a lovely evening," exclaimed Arthur Bernard, as rising from his seat, by the invalid's couch, he drew aside the thick folds of the crimson damask curtains, allowing the glorious rays of the full-orbed moon to illuminate the apartment.