For an answer Marguerite kissed her tenderly, when Nellie said:
“Well, well! I shall visit you frequently, Marguerite, whether you come to see me or not, for no change has come over your little Nellie, whom you know you can treat as you please—slight her, flout her, affront her, and she is still your little Nellie. Now, please to lend me a shawl, for the air on the bay is too cool at night to make my black silk scarf comfortable, and I’ll go.”
Mr. and Mrs. Helmstedt walked down to the beach with Nellie and her boys, saw them enter the boat, which quickly left the beach, and, with the dipping oars raising sparkles of light in its course, glided buoyantly over the moonlit water toward the distant point of Buzzard’s Bluff.
Philip Helmstedt and Marguerite were left alone on the beach.
Philip stood with folded arms and moody brow, gloomily watching the vanishing boat.
But Marguerite was watching him.
He turned and looked at her, saying, in a troubled voice:
“Marguerite, you are the warden of your own liberty. You can speak, if you choose, the words that will free you from restraint. Why will you not do it? You punish me even more than yourself by the obstinate silence that makes you a prisoner.”
“Philip, it is not as you think. I cannot speak those words to which you allude; but, Philip, beloved, I can and do accept your fiat. Let it rest so, dearest, until, perhaps, a day may come when I may be clear before you.”
“The air is too chill for you; come to the house,” said Mr. Helmstedt, and, without making any comment upon her words, he gave Marguerite his arm and led her home.