But as the stranger approached, Marguerite had grown pale, and now, leaning against a pine tree for support, exclaimed in a faint tone:
“My God, has it come at last?”
“I fear, madam, that I have alarmed you by my sudden approach; reassure yourself, dear lady!” said the visitor, politely.
But Marguerite, dropping her hands from before her agonized countenance, exclaimed:
“Braunton! am I so changed, then, that you do not know me? I am Marguerite Helmstedt, whom you seek. But in the name of Heaven, then, what fatality has brought you here?”
“A fatality indeed, madam,” answered the stranger, in a sad tone.
“Come up to the house! by a merciful chance I am alone this evening,” said the lady, struggling to sustain herself against the agony of mind that was written in characters of iron on her corrugated brow. The stranger gave her his arm as an indispensable support, and the two proceeded toward the mansion.
CHAPTER VIII.
LOVE, WAR AND BETROTHAL.
“Her mother smiled upon her bed,
As at its side we knelt to wed,