Long might she have continued thus, still pursuing the phantom of
pleasure, seeking ever for happiness, but never seeking aright, had she
not been suddenly startled, in the midst of worldly pursuits, by the
unexpected death of a gay and favorite companion, who, surrounded by all
of earthly happiness, was torn from her embrace. In the agony of
delirium, Agnes had beheld her, gliding, unconsciously, down the dark
valley and the shadow of death, and she trembled, when she felt how
totally unprepared she was to meet the King of Terrors, and yet how soon
she might be called to do so. In the midst of the gay dance, at the
festive board, where mirth ruled the hour, and honeyed flatteries were
poured into her ear, she was still haunted by that pallid, agonized
countenance, and by the voice, whose heart-rending accents she still
seemed to hear, as distinctly as when it cried, in imploring tones,
"Save me, oh save me, from the deep, dark waters. They surround me on
every side; have pity on me, for I sink, I sink, I sink.
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