As yet, her head lay quiescent on her mother's bosom, that first pillow, common alike to rich and poor, at the threshold of life.
The%signs of returning animation gradually became more and more evident; at length, the patient gently raised her head, and glanced vacantly from one object to another; then, her eyes were turned upon herself, and finally rested upon Fritz and Willis, who still bore obvious traces of their recent struggle with the waves.

Here she seemed to become conscious, for her body trembled, as if some terrible thought had crossed her mind.

After this paroxysm had passed, she feebly inclined her head, as if to say--"I understand--you have saved my life--I thank you." Then, like those jets of flame that are no sooner alight than they are extinguished, she again became insensible.
As soon as they reached the shore, Fritz hastened to Rockhouse, and made up a sort of palanquin of such materials as were at hand, into which Mary was placed, and thus was conveyed, with all possible care and speed, on the shoulders of the men to Falcon's Nest.

A few hours afterwards she returned to consciousness and found herself in a warm bed, surrounded with all the comforts that maternal anxiety and Becker's intelligent mind could suggest.
Fritz was unceasing in his exertions; no amount of fatigue seemed to wear him out.

As soon as he saw that everything had been done for the invalid that their united skill could accomplish, he bridled an untrained ostrich, and rode or rather flew off in search of the land portion of the expedition.
"Mary is saved," he cried, as he came up with them.
"From what ?" inquired Wolston, anxiously.
"From the sea, that was about to swallow her up." "And by whom ?" "By Willis, myself, and us all." The same evening, the two families were again assembled at Falcon's Nest, and thus, for a second time, the long talked-of expedition was brought to an abrupt conclusion.
"Ah," said Willis, "we must cast anchor for a bit; yesterday it was the sky, to-day it was the sea, to-morrow it will be the land, perhaps--the wind is clearly against us." How often does it not happen, in our pilgrimage through life, that we have the wind against us?
We make a resolute determination, we set out on our journey, but the object we seek recedes as we advance; it is no use going any farther--the wind is against us.