"She must have been round the Cape long ago. Hanson and his people
should by this time have landed, so that you would get letters from the
Cape, or perhaps even from Zanzibar, in the course of a week or two.
You will write to me and say what news you receive in case Charley's
letters should miscarry." Miss Sally promised, without fail, to write
as Mr Meadows requested, and he gave her his address. When he was
gone, Miss Sally and Mary had no one to talk to on the subject nearest
their hearts. They discussed it over and over again by themselves, in
spite of Aunt Sally's declaration that it was of no use, and that they
had better not speak about the matter; yet she was generally the first
to begin, and Mary would bring out the map, and they both would pore
over it, the elder lady through 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 right to claim you than we have, and
should he prove his claim, we should be unable to hold you from him."
"But how can any one have a claim upon me? I don't understand, aunt,"
said Mary, completely puzzled. "Pray tell me what Mr Farrance does
say."
"You shall hear his letter, and then judge for yourself, my dear child,"
said Miss Sally, and again holding the letter before her spectacles, she
read--
"My Dear Miss Pack,--I lose no time in informing you during your good
brother's absence of a circumstance which may possibly greatly affect
your young charge Mary. I must tell you that I had a brother who, at an
early age, having married imprudently, left England, and that I and the
rest of his family long supposed him dead. Two days ago a gentleman,
who said that he had just returned to this country after having resided
for many years in one of the Dutch East India settlements, called upon
me. After some conversation he inquired whether I suspected who he was,
and, greatly to my astonishment, he announced himself as my long-lost
brother. He was so changed by time and a pestiferous climate, and
sorrow and trials of all sorts, that I had a great difficulty in
recognising him, though I was at length satisfied that he was my
brother, and as such welcomed him home. While he was yesterday evening
narrating the events of his life, he mentioned having sent his wife,
whose health required a change of climate, and their only child, a
little girl, on board a ship bound for the Cape of Good Hope, where a
correspondent of his house had promised to receive them, but that the
ship was lost and that all on board, it was believed, had perished. On
hearing this it at once struck me as possible, and remember I say barely
possible, that the child picked up by Lieutenant Pack might be my
brother's daughter. On comparing dates I found, as nearly as I can
calculate, that they agree. Of course I do not forget that there might
have been several children of the same ago on board the ship. Even
should the wreck Mr Pack fell in with have been a portion of the
ill-fated ship, yet some other child instead of my brother's might have
been saved. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to identify her.
My brother is more sanguine than I am on the subject, and is anxious to
come down with me as soon as his health will allow, if you will give us
permission, to see your young charge. You may possibly have preserved
the clothes she had on and any ornaments about her which might assist in
her identification. Although my brother might not be able to recognise
them, he tells me that a black girl, who was a nurse in his family and
much attached to the child, is still alive, and he proposes to send for
her immediately. He has married again and has a large family. Though
Mary may be pleased to find that she has a number of brothers and
sisters, her position as to fortune will not be greatly altered; however
on that point she will not concern herself as much as you and others,
her elders, may possibly do, and we will take care that she is not the
loser should the hopes we entertain be realised.
"I have written this, my dear madam, as you ought to receive the
earliest information on the subject, and because you may think fit to
prepare your young charge for what may otherwise prove so startling to
her; but I leave that to your judgment, and hoping in the course of a
few days to see you,
"I remain,
"Yours faithfully,
"J. Farrance."
Mary sat for some minutes, her hands clasped and apparently lost in
thought, then she burst into tears, exclaiming, "My poor, poor mother!
I cannot help picturing her on the deck of the sinking ship, while the
fierce waves were foaming around her until she was carried away and
lost."
It was strange she did not think so much of her supposed father and the
new brothers and sisters she might find. Miss Sally endeavoured to calm
her.
"My dear, dear Mary, I ought not to have read this letter to you," she
exclaimed, "you must try to forget it; but I am afraid that you will not
do that, and we must endeavour to wait patiently until Mr Farrance and
his brother appear. They may find that they are mistaken, and then you
will still be my little niece, and as much loved as ever."
Mary soon grew calm, and tried to follow Miss Sally's advice by waiting
patiently for the appearance of their expected visitors. We, in the
meantime, must go to a far off part of the world.