Later in the same week, Franky Houston, boy as he was, took a tearful leave of Margaret, turning back many times to assure her that Ralph, when he came, would not leave her to mope in loneliness, but would certainly, to the best of his ability, supply his (Franky’s) place. And so the candid, open-hearted boy left.
And Margaret, who had grown to understand how dear she was to Franky, felt her heart stricken with compunction to know how glad she was that his place would soon be supplied by Ralph.
Grace Wellworth and Clare Hartley had also returned to their city school. And “Island Mag” was left again companionless.
Not for a long time.
With the warm days of early summer came Ralph Houston, as he said, for a short visit home, before he should sail for Europe to make the grand tour.
But this month of June, 1812, was a month big with the fate of nations as well as of individuals. The bitter disputes between the young Republic and the “Mother Country,” like all family quarrels, did not tend toward reconciliation, but on the contrary, month by month, and year by year, had grown more acrid and exasperating, until at length a war could no longer be warded off, and thus, without the least preparation, either military or naval, Congress on the eighteenth of June, 1812, declared war against Great Britain. Never had Young America before, and never since, taken so rash and impetuous a step. Never had an unfortunate country plunged headlong into an unequal and perilous war under more forbidding circumstances; with two formidable antagonists, and without either army or navy in readiness to meet them. Yet no sooner had the tocsin sounded through the land, than “the spirit of ’76” was aroused, and an army arose. Simultaneously, all over the country, volunteer companies were formed and marched toward the principal points of gathering.
Among the first who started into action at the country’s call, was Philip Helmstedt, who set about raising a company of volunteers in his own neighborhood, and at his own expense. This enterprise took him frequently from home, and kept him absent for many days at a time. At last, about the middle of July, he had formed and equipped his troop of one hundred men, and was prepared to march them to obtain his commission from Mr. Madison.
Mrs. Helmstedt had watched his preparations for departure with the mournful resignation of one whom sorrow had accustomed to submission. He was to join his men at Belleview, and take one of the larger packets bound up the Potomac River to the capital.
On the morning of his departure, Mrs. Helmstedt had risen early to superintend the final arrangements for his comfort. And they breakfasted alone at an early hour. Their child had not left her chamber, her father having taken leave of her on the evening previous. When breakfast was over, and the servants had withdrawn from the room by their master’s order, Mr. Helmstedt approached his wife, and seating himself beside her on the sofa, said:
“Marguerite! we are about to part. God knows for how long. It may be years before we meet, if, indeed, we ever meet again, Marguerite!”