noon
Then she was full of hope and eager ardour to arrive , longing for the parental presence of which she had so long been deprived , hailing every novel scene as a proof that she was nearer home , and without the anticipation of one cloud , only expecting to be loved , to love , and to be useful . And now , all fond illusions as to her father had been snatched away , her very love for him rendering the perception doubly cruel ; her mother , her precious mother , far away in Ormersfield churchyard -- her life probably shortened by his harshness -- her place occupied by a young girl , differing in language , in Church , in everything -- Mary 's own pardon uncertain , after all her sacrifices -- A sense of having deeply offended , hung upon her ; and her heart was so entirely in England , that had her home been perfect , her voyage must still have been a cruel effort . That one anticipation of being set at rest by her father 's forgiveness , and the forlorn despairing hope of his relenting towards Louis , were all she dared to dwell on ; and when Mrs. Willis counted the days till she could arrive and meet her husband , poor Mary felt as if , but for these two chances of comfort , she could gladly have prolonged the voyage for the rest of her life . But one burning tropical noon , the Valdivia was entering Callao harbour , and Mary , sick and faint at heart , was arraying herself in a coloured dress , lest her mourning should seem to upbraid her father . The voyage was over , the ship was anchored , boats were coming offshore , the luggage was being hoisted out of the hold , the passengers were congregated on deck , eager to land , some gazing with curious and enterprising eyes on the new country , others scanning every boat in hopes of meeting a familiar face . Mrs. Willis stood trembling with hope , excitement , and the strange dread often rushing in upon the last moment of expectation . She clung to Mary for support , and once said -- ` Oh , Miss Ponsonby , how composed you are ! '