“Yes, I have got an ague,” said Marguerite, shuddering, “but I will not be coddled! There.”
In vain, Nellie, with a great show of solicitude, urged her services. Marguerite would receive none of them, and ended, as usual, by ordering Nellie out of the room.
In a few days the engagement between Mr. Helmstedt and Miss De Lancie was made known to the intimate friends of the parties. The marriage was appointed to take place early in the ensuing winter. Then the Richmond party dispersed—Colonel and Mrs. Houston went down to their plantation in Northumberland County; Philip Helmstedt proceeded to his island estates on the coast, to prepare his long-deserted home for the reception of his bride. And, lastly, Marguerite, after a hurried visit of inspection to Plover’s Point, went “gypsying,” as she called it, for the whole summer and autumn. Upon this occasion, her mysterious absence was longer than usual. And when at last she rejoined her friends, her beautiful face betrayed the ravages of some strange, deep bitter sorrow.
Upon the following Christmas, once more, and for the last time, a merry party was assembled at Compton Hall. Among the guests were Nellie and her husband, on a visit to their parents. Marguerite De Lancie and Philip were also present. And there, under the auspices of Colonel and Mrs. Compton, they were united in marriage. By Marguerite’s expressed will, the wedding was very quiet, and almost private. And immediately afterward the Christmas party broke up.
And Philip Helmstedt, instead of accompanying the Comptons and Houstons to Richmond, or starting upon a bridal tour, took his idolized wife to himself alone, and conveyed her to his bleak and lonely sea-girt home, where the wild waters lashed the shores both day and night, and the roar of the waves was ever heard.
CHAPTER V.
THE EXCESS OF GLORY OBSCURED.
“Muse, Grace, and Woman—in herself
All moods of mind contrasting—
The tenderest wail of human woe,
The scorn like lightning blasting;