Her sweet calm face had lost its painful expression; years have gone by; time has come with its healing wings; she is nearer the hour when a meeting with the lost ones may be promised her in heaven. One sister is married and gone. The dark-haired sister is as usual employed in making brilliant flowers grow beneath her skilful fingers, like the magic work of the fairies. The pretty face of the other beams with content and sweetness. The door opens, and the grey-headed Father appears with the newspapers.
"My dear," says he, "what can this mean? Here is the Esperanza mentioned on her way home to England with her consort."
The Mother.—"Oh no, that must be a mistake. She has no consort; besides we do not expect our Esperanza home for six months at least."
The Father.—"But you see it is in the ships' news. 'The brig Esperanza, Capt. C., touched at St. Helena with her consort, and brings home Capt. C. of the Royal Engineers.'"
The Mother.—"There really seems no mistake indeed, especially Bertrand's having joined his brother. I suppose Richard must have captured some pirate or slaver's vessel. You know he took out a license to do so."
The Father.—"Very likely; but still I think we should have seen some account of the exploit in the papers if he had done so."
Emily.—"Especially the Esperanza being a private vessel. I really think, Mama, it must be a mistake."
The door opens, and the best and kindest aunt in the world appears, who, having no children of her own, opens her large heart, and takes in those of her only sister's.
The Aunt.—"Don't be surprised to see me, but my husband has seen in to-day's paper that the Esperanza is coming home. I thought, sister, they were to have been absent a year?"
The Mother.—"So I expected, and we are quite puzzled about it, having seen the news as well as yourself. I am almost inclined to agree with Emily that it is a mistake."