Mrs. Houston’s prediction was verified. Forrest returned about sunset with a note from Dr. Hartley to his daughter, expressing surprise that she should have made this visit without consulting him, and commanding her, as it was too late for her to cross the bay that evening, to return, without fail, early the next morning. Margaret gazed anxiously at Clare while the latter read her note. “Well, Clare! well?” she asked, eagerly, as her friend folded the paper. “Well, dear, as I left home without settling up some matters, I must run back for a few hours to-morrow morning; but I will be sure to come back and redeem my pledge of remaining near you until your father’s arrival, dear Margaret; for every minute I see more clearly that you need some faithful friend at your side,” replied Clare, who felt confident of being able to persuade her father to permit her return. Clare slept with Margaret in her arms that night. And early the next morning--very early, to deprecate her father’s displeasure, she entered Margaret’s little _Pearl Shell_, and was taken by Forrest across the bay and up the river to Plover’s Point. She had scarcely disappeared from the house, before Mrs. Houston entered Miss Helmstedt’s room. Margaret was seated in her low sewing-chair with her elbow leaning on the little workstand beside her, her pale forehead bowed upon her open palm, and a small piece of needlework held laxly in the other hand lying idly upon her lap. Her eyes were hollow, her eyelashes drooping until they overshadowed cheeks that wore the extreme pallor of illness. Her whole aspect was one of mute despair. The bustling entrance of Mrs. Houston was not perceived until the lady addressed her sharply: “Miss Helmstedt, I have something to say to you.” Margaret started ever so slightly, and then quietly arose, handed her visitor a chair, and resumed her own seat, and after a little while her former attitude, her elbow resting on the stand, her head bowed upon her hand. “Miss Helmstedt,” said the lady, taking the offered seat with an air of importance, “we have decided that under present circumstances, it is better that you should leave the house at once with your servants, and retire to the isle. Your effects can be sent after you.” A little lower sank the bowed head--a little farther down slid the relaxed hand, that was the only external evidence of the new blow she had received. To have had her good name smirched with foul calumny; to have suffered the desertion of all her friends save one; to have been publicly turned from the communion table; all this had been bitter as the water of Marah! Still she had said to herself: “Though all in this house wound me with their frowns and none vouchsafe me a kind word or look, yet will I be patient and endure it until they come. My father and Ralph shall find me where they left me.”