“Quite!” responded Margaret, sinking upon a bench as if greatly exhausted.
“Where have you been?” asked Mrs. Houston sharply.
“Beyond the wa——” Her voice died away in silence; she had fainted.
“It is fatigue, and fright, and want of food,” said old Mrs. Compton, going to the poor girl, raising her head, and supporting it on her lap.
“And those wretches have not left so much as a drop of wine to revive her, or even a candle to see her face by,” exclaimed Nellie, who, whatever her cause of displeasure might be, was always moved by the sight of physical suffering, with which she could the more readily sympathize. But Dr. Hartley caused Margaret’s head to be laid down again, and water to be dashed in her face; and by these simple means her recovery was soon effected.
As the moon was now rising, the company prepared themselves, and went down to the beach to get into their boats, which, they thanked Heaven, had not been carried off by the marauders. The trip back was decidedly the pleasantest part of the whole expedition. An hour’s row over the moonlit waters brought them to the Bluff, where Nellie ordered supper to be immediately prepared for the whole famished party, who remained her guests that night, and only separated after breakfast the next morning.
When her last guest had departed, Mrs. Houston entered the private sitting-room of Margaret Helmstedt, whom she found quietly sitting beside her workstand, engaged in sewing.
Taking a seat close beside her, Mrs. Houston said:
“Margaret, I have come to request an explanation of your strange conduct of yesterday, which, let me assure you, has given your friends great pain, and even revived all the old gossip of which you were the subject. Margaret, I await your answer.”
She looked up from her work, and fixing her dark eyes full upon the face of her catechiser, answered firmly though gently: