“Know it! No; I do not! Do you suppose that I sit still and listen to any one slandering you? Do you imagine that any one would dare to slander you in my presence? I tell you, Margaret, that I should take the responsibility of expelling man or woman from my father’s house who should dare to breathe a word against you.”
“Oh, Clare! the circumstantial evidence against me is overwhelming!”
“What is circumstantial evidence, however strong, against your whole good and beautiful life?”
“You would never believe ill of me.”
“Margaret—barring original sin, which I am required to believe in—I think I have a pure heart, a clear head, and strong eyes. I do not find so much evil in my own soul, as to be obliged to impute a part of it to another. I never confuse probabilities; and, lastly, I can tell an Agnes from a Calista at sight.”
By this time the rapid drive had brought them home. Clare scribbled a hasty note, which Forrest conveyed to her father.
The Comptons and the Houstons were all communicants, and did not leave the church until all the services were over. They had been bitterly galled and humiliated by the repulse that Margaret Helmstedt, a member of their family, had received. On their way home, they discussed the propriety of immediately sending her off, with her servants, to Helmstedt’s Island.
“Her father does not come; her conduct grows worse and worse; she has certainly forfeited all claims to our protection, and she compromises us every day,” urged Nellie.
“I am not sure but that the isle would be the best and most secure retreat for her until the coming of her father; the servants there are faithful and reliable, and the place is not so very accessible to interlopers, now that the British have retired,” said old Mrs. Compton.
Such being the opinion of the ladies of the family, upon a case immediately within their own province, Colonel Houston could say but little.