“Margaret, my beloved!” began Ralph Houston, springing to raise her, but before he could effect his purpose, Major Helmstedt had caught up his daughter, and with extended hands, exclaimed:
“Off, sir! How durst you? Touch her not! Address her not at your peril! Dr. Hartley, since you attended this self-willed girl hither, pray do me the favor to lead her from the scene. Gentlemen, seconds, I look to you to restore order, that the business of our meeting may proceed.”
“Father, father!” cried Margaret, clasping his knees in an agony of prayer.
“Degenerate child, release me and begone! Dr. Hartley, will you relieve me of this girl?”
“Major Helmstedt, your daughter and myself came hither in the hope of mediating between yourself and your antagonist.”
“Mediating! Sir, there is no such thing as mediation in a quarrel like this! Since you brought my daughter hither, will you take her off, sir, I ask you?” thundered Major Helmstedt, striving to unrivet the clinging arms of his child.
“Father, father! Hear me, hear me!” she cried.
“Peace, girl, I command you. Fool that you are, not to see that this is a mortal question, that can only be resolved in a death meeting between us. Girl, girl, girl! are you a Helmstedt? Do you know that the family of this man have made dishonoring charges upon you? Charges that, by the Heaven above, can be washed out only in life’s blood? Take her away, Hartley.”
“Father, father! Oh, God! the charges! the charges that they have made! they are true! they are true!” cried Margaret, clinging to his arms, while she hid her face upon his bosom.
Had a bombshell exploded in their midst, it could not have produced a severer or more painful shock.