every boat in hopes of meeting a familiar face. Mrs. Willis stood
trembling with hope, excitement, and the strange dread often rushing
in upon the last moment of expectation. She clung to Mary for
support, and once said--

'Oh, Miss Ponsonby, how composed you are!' Mary's feelings were too
deep--too much concentrated for trembling. She calmed and soothed
the wife's sudden fright, lest 'something should have happened to
George;' and she even smiled when the children's scream of ecstacy
infected their mother, when the papa and uncle they had been watching
for with straining eyes proved to be standing on deck close beside
them.

Mary cast her eyes round, and saw nothing of her own. She stood
apart, while the Willis family were in all the rapture of the
meeting; she saw them moving off, too happy and sufficient for
themselves even to remember her. She had a dull, heavy sensation
that she must bear all, and this was the beginning; and she was about
to begin her arrangements for her dreary landing, when Mrs. Willis's
brother, Mr. Ward, turned back. He was a middle-aged merchant, whom
her mother had much liked and esteemed, and there was something
cheering in his frank, hearty greeting, and satisfaction in seeing
her. It was more like a welcome, and it brought the Willises back,
shocked at having forgotten her in the selfishness of their own joy;
but they had made sure that she had been met. Mr. Ward did not think
that she was expected by the Valdivia; Mr. Ponsonby had not mentioned
it as likely. So they were all seated in the boat, with the black
rowers; and while the Willises fondled their children, and exchanged
home-news, Mr. Ward sat by Mary, and spoke to her kindly, not openly
referring to the state of her home, but showing a warmth and