Indignant and broken-hearted, Marguerite took her son and returned to her native country; put the boy out to nurse, and then sought her home in Virginia, to reflect, amid its quiet scenes, upon her future course. Marguerite’s confidential consultations with various eminent lawyers had resulted in no encouragement for her to seek legal redress; she determined to rear her boy in secrecy; and watch if, perchance, some opportunity for successfully pushing his claims should occur. Further, she resolved to remain unmarried, and to devote herself to the welfare of this unacknowledged son, so that, should all his rights of birth be finally denied, she could at last legally adopt him, and make him her sole heir. Somewhat quieted by this resolution, Marguerite De Lancie became once more the ascendant star of fashion. The greater part of each year she spent in the hamlet in the State of New York where she had placed her son at nurse, accounting for her long absences by the defiant answer, “I’ve been gypsying.” Thus three years slipped away, when at length Marguerite De Lancie met her fate in Philip Helmstedt, the only man whom she ever really loved. The tale she durst not tell her lover, she insanely hoped might be successfully concealed, or safely confided to her husband. Ah, vain hope! Philip Helmstedt, to the last degree jealous and suspicious, was the worst man on the face of the earth to whom to confide her questionable story. They were married; and for a time she was lost in the power that attracted, encircled, and swallowed up her whole fiery nature. From this deep trance of bliss she was electrified by the receipt of a letter, advising her of the sudden and dangerous illness of the unowned child. Here was an exigency for which she was totally unprepared. She prayed Philip Helmstedt to permit her to depart, for a season, unquestioned. This strange petition gave rise to the first misunderstanding between them. With the terrible scenes that followed the reader is already acquainted. She was not suffered to depart. A subsequent letter informed her of the convalescence of her son. A superficial peace, without confidence, ensued between herself and husband. They went to Richmond, where Marguerite, filled with grief, remorse, and terror, so distractedly overacted her part as queen of fashion, that she brought upon herself, from wondering friends, the suspicion of partial insanity. It was at this time that she received a third letter, advising her of the nearly fatal relapse of her child. Knowing from past experience how vain it would be to hope for Philip Helmstedt’s consent to her unexpected absence, she secretly departed, to spend a few weeks with her suffering child. She reached the hamlet, nursed her boy through his illness, and then placed him to be reared and educated in the family of the poor village pastor, to whom, for his services as tutor, she offered a liberal salary.