ocked 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 consideration which evinced much delicate
sympathy.

They all drove together in the Willises' carriage up the sloping road
from Callao to Lima, and Mary heard astonishment, such as she had once
felt, breaking out in screams from the children at the sight of
omnibuses filled with gaily-dressed negroes, and brown horsewomen in
Panama hats and lace-edged trousers careering down the road. But then,
her father had come and fetched her from on board, and that dear mamma
was waiting in the carriage! They entered the old walled town when
twilight had already closed in, and Mrs. Willis was anxious to take her
tired little ones home at once. They were set down at their own door;
but Mr. Ward, with protecting anxious kindness, insisted on seeing Miss
Ponsonby safely home before he would join them. As they drove through
the dark streets, Mary heard a little restless movement, betraying some
embarrassment; and at last, with an evident desire of reassuring her,
he said, 'Senora Rosita is thought very pleasing and engaging;' and
then, as if willing to change the subject, he hastily added, 'I suppose
you did not speak the Pizarro?'

'No.'

'She has sailed about three weeks. She takes home your cousin, Mr.
Dynevor.'

Mary cried out with surprise.

'I thought him a complete fixture, but he is gone home for a year. It
seems his family property was in the market, and he was anxious to
secure it.'

'How glad his mother will be!' was all Mary could say, as there rushed
over her the thought of the wonderful changes this would make in
Dynevor Terrace. Her first feeling was that she must tell Louis; her
second, that two oceans were between them; and then she thought of Aunt
Catharine having lived, after all, to see her son.

She had forgotten to expect the turn when the carriage wheeled under
the arched entry of her father's house. All was gloom and stillness,
except where a little light shone in a sort of porter's lodge upon the
eager negro features of two blacks