“An old man and a clergyman! God knoweth that shall not save him when I meet him.” “Ralph! Ralph! you are mad.” “And Margaret! How did she bear this? Oh! that I had been at her side. Oh, God, that I had been at her side!” exclaimed the captain, striding in rapid steps up and down the floor. “She felt it, of course, very acutely.” “My dove! my poor, wounded dove! But you all comforted and sustained her, sir!” “Ralph, we thought it best to send her home to the island.” “What!” exclaimed Captain Houston, pausing suddenly in his rapid walk. “Yes, Ralph, we have sent her away home. We thought it best to do so,” replied the colonel, generously suppressing the fact that it was altogether the women’s work, against his own approval. Ralph Houston had gone through all the stages of displeasure, indignation and fury. But he was past all that now! There are some wrongs so deep as to still the stormiest natures into a stern calm more to be feared than fury. “What, do you tell me that in this hour of her bitterest need you have sent my promised bride from the protection of your roof?” he inquired, walking to the bedside, and speaking in a deep, calm, stern tone, from which all emotion seemed banished. “Ralph, we deemed it proper to do so.” “Then hear me! Margaret Helmstedt shall be my wife within twenty-four hours; and, so help me God, at my utmost need, I will never cross the threshold of Buzzard’s Bluff again!” exclaimed Captain Houston, striding from the room and banging the door behind him. “Ralph! Ralph! my son, Ralph!” cried the colonel, starting up from the bed, throwing on his dressing-gown and following him through the passage. But Captain Houston had reached and locked himself in his own chamber, where he remained in obdurate silence. The colonel went back to bed. Ralph Houston, in his room, consulted the timepiece. It was eleven o’clock. He sat down to the table, drew writing materials before him, and wrote the following hasty note to his betrothed: CITY HOTEL, WASHINGTON, October 6, 1815. MARGARET, MY BELOVED ONE:--Only this hour have I heard of your sorrows. Had I known them sooner, I would have come from the uttermost parts of the earth to your side. But be of good cheer, my own best love. Within twenty-four hours I shall be with you to claim your hand, and assume the precious privilege and sacred right of protecting you against the world for life and death and eternity. Yours, RALPH HOUSTON. “‘It is written that for this cause shall a man leave father and mother and cleave to his wife.’ I am glad of it. Let them go. For my poor, storm-beaten dove, she shall be safe in my bosom,” said Ralph Houston, his heart burning with deep resentment against his family, and yearning with unutterable affection toward Margaret, as he sealed and directed the letter, and hastened with it to the office to save the midnight mail. CHAPTER XIV. MARTYRDOM.