“Dear mother and fair wife, the matter rests with you at last; but for myself, I prefer that the girl should remain under our protection until the arrival of her father. I would place her nowhere, except in Major Helmstedt’s own hands.”
The ladies, however, decided that Margaret Helmstedt should, the next morning, be sent off to the isle. And the colonel reluctantly acquiesced. As for old Colonel Compton, from first to last he had not interfered, or even commented, except by a groan or a sigh.
Upon arriving at home, they were astonished to find Clare Hartley with Margaret. And when they were told that Forrest had been dispatched to Plover’s Point, with a note from Clare to inform her father of her whereabouts, Nellie prophesied that the messenger would bring back orders for Clare to return immediately. And she decided to say nothing to Margaret about the approaching exodus until after Clare’s departure.
Mrs. Houston’s prediction was verified. Forrest returned about sunset with a note from Dr. Hartley to his daughter, expressing surprise that she should have made this visit without consulting him, and commanding her, as it was too late for her to cross the bay that evening, to return, without fail, early the next morning.
Margaret gazed anxiously at Clare while the latter read her note.
“Well, Clare! well?” she asked, eagerly, as her friend folded the paper.
“Well, dear, as I left home without settling up some matters, I must run back for a few hours to-morrow morning; but I will be sure to come back and redeem my pledge of remaining near you until your father’s arrival, dear Margaret; for every minute I see more clearly that you need some faithful friend at your side,” replied Clare, who felt confident of being able to persuade her father to permit her return.
Clare slept with Margaret in her arms that night. And early the next morning—very early, to deprecate her father’s displeasure, she entered Margaret’s little Pearl Shell, and was taken by Forrest across the bay and up the river to Plover’s Point.
She had scarcely disappeared from the house, before Mrs. Houston entered Miss Helmstedt’s room.
Margaret was seated in her low sewing-chair with her elbow leaning on the little workstand beside her, her pale forehead bowed upon her open palm, and a small piece of needlework held laxly in the other hand lying idly upon her lap. Her eyes were hollow, her eyelashes drooping until they overshadowed cheeks that wore the extreme pallor of illness. Her whole aspect was one of mute despair.