her spectacles, as if they could there
discover by some magical power where Ned was, and the point the "Hope"
had reached. They were cheerful and happy, though nothing occurred to
vary the monotony of their everyday life, until the post one morning
brought a letter addressed to Miss Sarah Pack.

"Whom can it be from?" she exclaimed, adjusting her spectacles. "It is
not from my brother; it bears only the English post mark. Give me my
scissors, Mary." And she deliberately cut it open, though not the less
eager to know its contents.

Mary watched her as she read, holding the letter up to the light, and
murmuring, "Astonishing!"

"Very strange!"

"I cannot understand it!"

"And yet not impossible!"

"I don't know whether I ought to tell you the contents of this," she
said, after she had read it twice over; "it may agitate you, my dear
Mary, and raise expectations only to be disappointed. It is from Mr
Farrance, and a very singular story he gives me."

These remarks could not fail to arouse Mary's curiosity.

"Is it about Ned? Has he been found? Is he coming back?" she
exclaimed, her hand trembling in an unusual manner as she was about to
pour out a cup of tea for her aunt.

"No, he does not give us any news of Ned. The letter has reference to
you. I ought not to wish that anything to your advantage should not
happen, but yet I almost dread lest Mr Farrance's expectations should
be realised."

"Oh, do tell me, aunt, what Mr Farrance says!" exclaimed Mary. "I will
nerve myself for whatever it may be; but I cannot even guess."

"Have you no suspicion on the subject?" asked Miss Sally, after a few
moments' silence.

"None whatever," answered Mary.

Miss Sally looked at her earnestly with eyes full of affection, and then
said, speaking very slowly--

"You know, my dear Mary, how my brother found you and Tom Baraka
floating on a piece of wreck in the Indian Ocean, and how neither you
nor Tom were able to give any account of yourselves--he not
understanding English, and you being too young to remember what had
occurred. From the day my brother brought you home we have ever loved
you dearly, and supposing that your parents perished, we believed that
no one would appear to take you away from us."

"Yes, indeed, dear aunt, and I have never wished to leave you," said
Mary, in a gentle tone. "If Mr Farrance wishes me to do so, pray tell
him that it is impossible."

"There may be one who has a greater r