“Ralph, we thought it best to send her home to the island.”
“What!” exclaimed Captain Houston, pausing suddenly in his rapid walk.
“Yes, Ralph, we have sent her away home. We thought it best to do so,” replied the colonel, generously suppressing the fact that it was altogether the women’s work, against his own approval.
Ralph Houston had gone through all the stages of displeasure, indignation and fury. But he was past all that now! There are some wrongs so deep as to still the stormiest natures into a stern calm more to be feared than fury.
“What, do you tell me that in this hour of her bitterest need you have sent my promised bride from the protection of your roof?” he inquired, walking to the bedside, and speaking in a deep, calm, stern tone, from which all emotion seemed banished.
“Ralph, we deemed it proper to do so.”
“Then hear me! Margaret Helmstedt shall be my wife within twenty-four hours; and, so help me God, at my utmost need, I will never cross the threshold of Buzzard’s Bluff again!” exclaimed Captain Houston, striding from the room and banging the door behind him.
“Ralph! Ralph! my son, Ralph!” cried the colonel, starting up from the bed, throwing on his dressing-gown and following him through the passage. But Captain Houston had reached and locked himself in his own chamber, where he remained in obdurate silence.
The colonel went back to bed.
Ralph Houston, in his room, consulted the timepiece. It was eleven o’clock. He sat down to the table, drew writing materials before him, and wrote the following hasty note to his betrothed: