“You love me so; you say your life lives within mine, and I believe it does, for you inhabit me, you possess me, nor can I unhouse you, incendiary as you are—and yet you will not give me your confidence—will not justify yourself before me—while I, on my part, may not abate one jot or tittle of your restraint until you do.”
“I do not arraign you even in my thoughts, love; so far from that, I accept you for my judge; I submit to your sentence. There is this dark cloud settled on my bowed head, love (would it rested only on my own), and some day it may be lifted. In the meantime, since you do not exile me, do your royal will unquestioned with your own, my king. Ah, Philip! we are not angels, you and I; and we may never find heaven in this world or the next; but, such as we are, even with this cloud between us, we love each other; on this earth we cannot part; and even in the next we must be saved or lost—together.”
“Marguerite, tell me, is there a hope that, one day, this mystery may be cleared up?”
“Philip, dearest, yes; a faint hope that I scarcely dare to entertain.”
During all this time she had been standing within his circling arm, with her face upon his shoulder, and her soft, fragrant ringlets flowing past his cheek. Now, as she lifted her head, her wild, mournful eyes fell upon a distant sail skimming rapidly over the surface of the sparkling water, from the direction of Buzzard’s Bluff.
“Nellie is coming, dear husband,” she said, “but she shall know that it is my own pleasure to stay home, as it truly is since you will it.”
“No concealment for my sake, Marguerite. I tell you, I will answer for what I do. Kiss me now, thou cleaving madness, before that boat comes.”
On bounded the little sailboat over the flashing water, and presently drew so near that Nellie, in her green hood, could be recognized. And in a few more minutes the little boat touched the beach, and Nellie, with her two boys, as she called her stepsons, jumped ashore and ran to greet Marguerite and Mr. Helmstedt.
“And here are my boys, whom you have never seen before, Marguerite. Ralph, speak to Mrs. Helmstedt. Franky, that’s not the way to make a bow, sir, pulling a lock of your hair; you must have learned that from Black Lem. Ralph does not do so; he’s a gentleman,” said the young stepmother.
Marguerite, who had embraced Nellie with great affection, received her stepsons with kindness. And Mr. Helmstedt, who had welcomed the party with much cordiality, now led the way up to the house.