Nellie, accustomed to such abrupt dismissions, kissed her friend and retired.
“Honor, honor, honor,” repeated Marguerite, when left alone. “Oh, Moloch of civilization, when will you be surfeited?”
The next morning Philip Helmstedt called, sent up his card to Miss De Lancie, and was not denied her presence.
“Show the gentleman into the music-room, and say that I will see him there, John,” was the direction given by Miss De Lancie, who soon descended thither.
Mr. Helmstedt arose to meet her, and wondered at her pale, worn look.
“I hope you are in good health this morning, dear Marguerite,” he said, offering to salute her. But she waved him off, saying:
“No! I am ill! And I come to you, this morning, Philip Helmstedt, to implore you to restore the promise wrenched from me yesterday,” she said, and sunk, pallid and exhausted, upon the nearest chair.
A start and an attitude of astounded amazement was his only reply. A pause of a moment ensued, and Marguerite repeated:
“Will you be so generous as to give me back my plighted faith, Philip Helmstedt?”
“Marguerite! has nature balanced her glorious gift to you with a measure of insanity?” he inquired, at length, but without abatement of his astonishment.