evenings the desolate coast
had been her constant haunt, after the necessary labors of the day were
completed. It had been with much reluctance that she had consented to
her husband's wish of taking Henrich on the hazardous expedition; and
his being of the party had greatly increased the anxiety and uneasiness
which Rodolph's absence always caused her. As the days passed on, this
anxiety became greater; and visions of fatal encounters with the
savages beset her naturally timid mind. Daily therefore she left her
hut, and wrapped in the mantle of fur with which her husband had
provided her before he brought her to brave a North American winter,
she paced backwards and forwards on the beach, looking out over the
dark waters, and lifting her heart in prayer for the safe and speedy
return of the wanderers. Edith and Ludovico accompanied her but they
could not share her anxiety. They looked, indeed, with eagerness for
the expected boat which was to bring back their much-loved father and
brother; but they soon forgot the object of their search, and amused
themselves by climbing the rocks, and gathering the shells which the
wintry waves now cast up in abundance.

They were thus engaged when Edith happened to glance to the south and
saw the long desired coming round a little promontory that concealed it
from her mother as she walked below. In an instant the treasure of
shells and seaweed was forgotten, and little Edith was bounding down to
the beach, followed by Ludovico.

'The boat mother, the boat!' she eagerly exclaimed, as she pointed in
the direction in which it was approaching; and in another moment she
and her little brother were at Helen's side, and all hastening to the
landing-place--that very granite rock on which they had first
disembarked on the American shore. The boat came rear; and as soon as
the crew perceived Helen and the children on the rock, they raised a
hearty cheer to tell her that all was well. She saw her husband
standing on the prow, and her heart bounded with joy; but she looked
for Henrich, and she did not see him, and fear mingled with her joy. A
few more strokes of the oars, and the boat glided up to the rock, and
Rodolph leaped on shore, and embraced his wife and children.

'Heaven be praised! you are safe, my Rodolph,' exclaimed Helen. 'But
where is Henrich?--where is my boy?'

'He also is safe, Helen. His life is preserved; but he is wounded, and
unable to come from the boat to meet you.