“I received one from my husband last night; he spoke of one mailed at the same time to Colonel Houston; he consents to the betrothal of Margaret to Ralph, or rather, he refers the matter to me, which amounts to the same thing. Nellie, I have but a few hours to live; before I die I wish to place the hand of my child in that of Ralph in solemn betrothal; and, when I rest in the grave, you will take my orphan child as your daughter home, and comfort her until her father, to whom Dr. Hartley has written, arrives. Oh, Nellie, be kind to my dove!”
“Indeed I will! Oh, indeed I will, though I was disappointed for Franky! I will love her as tenderly as if she were my own. Don’t doubt me. You know I have always been a good stepmother?”
“An excellent one, dear Nellie.”
“And don’t you know, then, how tenderly I should cherish your orphan child? I have two sons; but no daughter; I should take Margaret to my heart as a much-desired daughter,” said Nellie, earnestly, and at that moment, in that mood, she sincerely meant all she said.
“Thank you, dear Nellie. Margaret will, at the age of eighteen, inherit the greater portion of my patrimony, including Plover’s Point, which has been secured to her. This will make her independent. Upon the demise of her father—long and happily may he yet live—she will come into the possession of one of the largest fortunes in the South. Ralph’s expectations, I know, are nearly equal; therefore, deny her no indulgence, no wish of her heart that wealth can satisfy; for Margaret is not selfish or exacting, and will make no unreasonable demands. But how I twaddle. Have the soul of kindness toward my orphan girl, and that will teach you what to do.”
“Don’t doubt me, Marguerite. I will swear to you if you require it,” said Nellie, who believed herself to be as constant as she was fervent.
“It is enough! Is Ralph here?”
“Yes, dearest Marguerite.”
“Let him be called at once.”
Nellie flew to do her friend’s bidding, and swiftly returned with Mr. Houston.