“I think, under the circumstances, that that is as well,” replied the old man. And soon after, he concluded his visit and departed. And as the subject was no more mentioned to Margaret, she remained in ignorance of the visit of Mr. Wellworth. And from this time Margaret Helmstedt kept her own apartments, except when forced to join the family at their meals. And upon these occasions, the silence of the ladies, and the half compassionate courtesy of Colonel Houston, wounded her heart more deeply than the most bitter reproaches could have done. A week passed in this dreary manner, and still Major Helmstedt and Captain Houston had not returned, though they were as yet daily expected. Margaret, lonely, desolate, craving companionship and sympathy, one day ordered her carriage and drove up to the parsonage to see Grace Wellworth. She was shown into the little sitting-room where the parson’s daughter sat sewing. Grace arose to meet her friend with a constrained civility that cut Margaret to the heart. She could not associate her coldness with the calumnious reports afloat concerning herself, and therefore could not comprehend it. But Margaret’s heart yearned toward her friend; she could not bear to be at variance with her. “My dearest Grace, what is the matter? have I unconsciously offended you in any way?” she inquired, gently, as she sat down beside the girl and laid her hand on her arm. “Unconsciously! no, I think not! You are doubly a traitor, Margaret Helmstedt! Traitor to your betrothed and to your friend!” replied Miss Wellworth, bitterly. “Grace! this from you!” “Yes, this from me! of all others from me! The deeply injured have a right to complain and reproach.” “Oh, Grace! Grace! my friend!” exclaimed Margaret, wringing her hands. But before another word was said, old Mr. Wellworth entered the room. “Good-afternoon, Miss Helmstedt. Grace, my dear, go down to Dinah’s quarter and give her her medicine, Miss Helmstedt will excuse you. One of our women has malaria fever, Miss Helmstedt.” “Indeed! I am sorry; but I have some skill in nursing: shall I not go with Grace?” inquired Margaret, as her friend arose to leave the room. “No, young lady; I wish to have some conversation with you.” Grace sulkily departed, and Margaret meekly resumed her seat. “Miss Helmstedt, my poor child, it is a very painful duty that I have now to perform. Since the decease of my wife, I have to watch with double vigilance over the welfare of my motherless daughter, and I should feel indebted to you, Margaret, if you would abstain from visiting Grace until some questions in regard to your course are satisfactorily answered.” Margaret’s face grew gray with anguish as she arose to her feet, and clasping her hands, murmured: “My God! my God! You do not think I could do anything that should separate me from the good of my own sex?”