“Then, Miss Helmstedt, you had better order your servants to pack up and prepare the boat. We wish you to leave this morning; for Colonel Houston, who intends to see you safe to the island, and charge the people there concerning you, has only this day at his disposal. To-morrow he goes to Washington, to meet Ralph and Frank, who, we learn by a letter received this morning, are on their way home.”
This latter clause was an additional piece of cruelty, whether intentional or only thoughtless on the part of the speaker. Ralph so near home, and she dismissed in dishonor! Margaret felt it keenly; but she only inquired in a low and tremulous voice:
“And my father?”
“Your father, it appears, is still detained by business in New York. And now I will leave you to prepare for your removal.”
Margaret rang for her servants, directed Hildreth to pack up her clothing, and Forrest to make ready the boat, for they were going back to the island.
Her faithful attendants heard in sorrowful dismay. They had acutely felt and deeply resented the indignities inflicted upon their young mistress.
An hour served for all necessary preparations, and then Margaret sent and reported herself ready to depart.
The family assembled in the hall to bid her good-by. When she took leave of them they all looked grave and troubled. Old Mrs. Compton kissed her on the cheek and prayed God to bless her. And the tears rushed to Colonel Houston’s eyes when he offered his arm to the suffering girl, whose pale face looked so much paler in contrast with the mourning dress she still wore.
They left the house, entered the boat, and in due time reached Helmstedt’s Island. Colonel Houston took her to the mansion, called the servants together, informed them that their master would be at home in a few days; and that their young mistress had come to prepare for his arrival, and to welcome him back to his house. That of course they would obey her in all things. This explanation of Margaret’s presence was so probable and satisfactory, that her people had nothing to do but to express the great pleasure they felt in again receiving their young lady. In taking leave of Margaret, Colonel Houston was very deeply shaken. He could not say to her, “This act, Margaret, was the act of the women of my family, who, you know, hold of right the disposal of all such nice questions as these. I think they are wrong, but I cannot with propriety interfere.” No, he could not denounce the doings of his own wife and mother, but he took the hand of the maiden and said:
“My dearest Margaret—my daughter, as I hoped once proudly to call you—if ever you should need a friend, in any strait, for any purpose, call on me. Will you, my dear girl?”