“Because I do not will to do so, my dear; there, go and enjoy yourself, love. See, your father and Forrest are already in the other boat, and Franky is waiting to put my pearl in his shell. Good-night, sweet!” said Mrs. Helmstedt, kissing her daughter, with a smile so bright that it cheered the maiden, and sent her tripping to join her companion.
The Nereide, containing Mr. Helmstedt and his man, had already left the shore. Franky handed Margaret into the dainty boat, that was so perfectly clean as not to endanger the spotless purity of her gala dress. When she was seated, and Franky had taken his place at the oars and pushed a little way from the shore, he said:
“This boat is yours, you know, dear Margaret; my parting gift; I had it built on purpose, and painted it myself, and named it for you. ‘Margaret,’ you know, means ‘pearl,’ and this boat that carries you is a pearl shell; I colored it as near like one as I could. I should like to have the pleasure of rowing you about in it, but”—with a deep sigh—“I can’t! However, you will not want attention, Margaret, for my brother Ralph will be home, where I am sure he will stay; for they say that we are on the eve of war with England, in which case it will not be expedient for him to go to Europe—so, of course, he will stay home, and equally, of course, if he is a great Don, he will supply my place to you, Margaret! You have not answered one word that I have said to you—why, what is the matter?”
Margaret, with her thoughts and affections still lingering with her mother left behind, had turned to give her a last look, and in doing so had started and grown pale to see her still standing there, her black dress strongly marked against the drear, white beach, alone, desolate, in an attitude and with an expression of utter despair. Margaret had never before surprised that look of heartbroken hopelessness upon her mother’s well-guarded countenance, and now having seen it, she never afterward in life forgot it.
“You do not speak, Margaret; you do not like my boat?”
“Oh, indeed I do, Franky! And you are very kind; but I am thinking of mamma; I am afraid she will be lonesome to-night, and, indeed, I wish to return to her.”
“Nonsense, my dear Margaret. She would send you off again; besides, what would your father say?”
“But do, then, look at her, Franky, where she stands alone.”
The youth turned around; but Mrs. Helmstedt saw them watching her, smiled her bright, delusive smile, waved them adieu, and turned away.
Margaret sighed.