“Very odd,” said Captain Littlestone, sweeping the horizon with his glass “I can see nothing of them either.”

A horrible apprehension here glided into the hearts of the young men.  They knew well that, had their mother been able, she would have been the first to welcome them home.  Perhaps, under the inspiration of despair, their lips were opening to deny the mercy of that Providence which had hitherto so remarkably befriended them, when at a great distance, and scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, they descried three figures advancing slowly towards the shore.

One of these forms was Mrs. Becker, who was leaning upon the arms of Mary and Sophia Wolston.

“God be thanked, we are still in time,” cried Fritz and Jack.

A loud cheer, led by Willis, then rent the air.  Half an hour after, the two young men leaped on shore; they did not stay to shake hands with their father and brothers, but ran on to where their mother stood.  It was a long time before they could utter a syllable; the greeting of the mother and her children was too affectionate to be expressed in words.

Next morning, at daybreak, preparations for a serious operation were made in Mrs. Becker’s room.  The entire colony was in a state of intense excitement, and an air of anxiety was imprinted on every countenance.  In the room itself the wing of a fly could have been heard, so breathless was the silence that prevailed.  The patient’s eyes had been bandaged, under pretext of concealing from her sight the surgical instruments and preparations for the operation.  The real design, however, was to hide the operator, whom Mrs. Becker supposed to be an expert practitioner from Europe; for it was not thought advisable that a mother’s anxieties should be superadded to the patient’s sufferings.

At the moment of trial the few persons present had sunk on their knees; Jack alone remained standing at the bedside of his mother.  The Jack of the past had entirely disappeared; he was somewhat pale, very grave, but collected, firm, and resolute.  It was, perhaps, the first instance on record of a son being called upon to lacerate the body of his mother.  But the moment that God imposed such a task upon one of His creatures, it is God himself that becomes the operator.

When, some days after, Mrs. Becker—­calm, radiant, and saved—­requested to see and thank her deliverer, it was Jack who presented himself.  If she had known this sooner, it would, most undoubtedly, have augmented her terror, and increased the fever.  As it was, it redoubled her thankfulness, and hastened her recovery.

Frank and Ernest embarked on board the Nelson when she returned to New Switzerland on her way to Europe.  Two years afterwards, the former returned in the capacity of a minister of the Church of England, bringing with him a sufficient number of men, women, and children to furnish a respectable congregation; and it was rumored, though with what degree of truth I will not venture to say, that one of the young lady passengers in the ship was his destined bride.  Ernest remained some years in Europe, partly to consolidate relations between the colony and the mother country, and partly with a view to realize his pet project of establishing an observatory in New Switzerland.