Arkwright had lost all that appearance of joy which had cheered up
her sweet face during the last few months. Terror at that terrible
journey obliterated in her mind all the happiness which had arisen
from the hope of being soon at home. She was thoroughly cowed by
the danger to be encountered, and would gladly have gone down to
Punt' Arenas, had it been now possible that she could so arrange it.
It rained, and rained, and still rained, when there was now only a
week from the time they started. Oh! if they could only wait for
another month! But this she said to no one. After what had passed
between her and her husband, she had not the heart to say such words
to him. Arkwright himself was a man not given to much talking, a
silent thoughtful man, stern withal in his outward bearing, but
tender-hearted and loving in his nature. The sweet young wife who
had left all, and come with him out to that dull distant place, was
very dear to him,--dearer than she herself was aware, and in these
days he was thinking much of her coming troubles. Why had he given
way to her foolish prayers? Ah, why indeed? And thus the last few
days of their sojourn in San Jose passed away from them. Once or
twice during these days she did speak out, expressing her fears.
Her feelings were too much for her, and she could not restrain
herself. "Poor mamma," she said, "I shall never see her!" And then
again, "Harry, I know I shall never reach home alive."

"Fanny, my darling, that is nonsense." But in order that his spoken
word might not sound stern to her, he took her in his arms and
kissed her.

"You must behave well, Fanny," he said to her the day before they
started. Though her heart was then very low within her, she
promised him that she would do her best, and then she made a great