Long and anxious months, with one exception, succeeded this bright spot of sunshine in Mary Pratt's solicitude in behalf of the absent Roswell. She knew there was but little chance of hearing from him again until he returned north. The exception was a short letter that the deacon received, dated two weeks later than that written from Rio, in latitude forty-one, or just as far south of the equator as Oyster Pond was north of it, and nearly fourteen hundred miles to the southward of Rio. This letter was written in great haste, to send home by a Pacific trader who was accidentally met nearer the coast than was usual for such vessels to be. It stated that all was well; that the schooner of Daggett was still in company; and that Gardiner intended to get "shut" of her, as the deacon expressed it, on the very first occasion. After the receipt of this letter, the third written by Roswell Gardiner since he left home, a long and blank interval of silence succeeded. Then it was that months passed away in an anxious and dark uncertainty. Spring followed winter, summer succeeded to spring, and autumn came to reap the fruits of all the previous seasons, without bringing any further tidings from the adventurers. Then winter made its second appearance since the Sea Lion had sailed, filling the minds of the mariners' friends with sad forebodings as they listened to the meanings of the gales that accompanied that bleak and stormy quarter of the year. Deep and painful were the anticipations of the deacon, in whom failing health, and a near approach to the "last of earth," came to increase the gloom. As for Mary, youth and health sustained her; but her very soul was heavy, as she pondered on so long and uncertain an absence. Chapter XIII. "Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou calledst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid." _Tempest._