The new tenant of Plover’s Point was Dr. Hartley, with his wife, son and daughter. They were a great accession to the neighborhood, for, though fifteen miles up the river, they were, in that spacious district, considered neighbors. The Houstons, Comptons and Wellworths called upon them, as also did Mr. Helmstedt, who apologized for the non-appearance of his wife, saying that Mrs. Helmstedt suffered in health and spirits and never left her home, and expressed a hope that they would dispense with form and visit her there. And this, at last, Dr. and Mrs. Hartley decided to do, and, after having once made the acquaintance of Marguerite, they felt powerfully attracted to pursue it. About this time, five years from the birth of her daughter, Marguerite became the mother of an infant son, who merely opened his eyes upon this world to close them immediately in death. The loss of the babe was a severe disappointment to Mr. Helmstedt, and, for that reason, a heavier sorrow to Marguerite. Her health was now so enfeebled that her physician, Dr. Hartley, earnestly advised a change of air and scene, and his advice was warmly seconded by her friends at Buzzard’s Bluff. This consultation took place in the presence of Marguerite, who smiled proudly and mournfully. Her husband answered: “It shall be just as Mrs. Helmstedt decides; but as she has confined herself exclusively to her home, against the wishes and advice of all her friends, for more than five years, I greatly fear that she will not be induced, by anybody, to leave it.” Mrs. Houston replied: “Think of it, Dr. Hartley. Mrs. Helmstedt has not set foot off this island for nearly six years! Enough in itself to ruin her health and spirits.” “Quite enough, indeed,” said the kind-hearted physician, adding, “I hope, Mr. Helmstedt, that you will be able to persuade your wife to leave here for a time.” “I shall endeavor to do so,” gravely answered that gentleman. And when the visitors had all departed, and Mr. Helmstedt was alone with his wife, he took her white, transparent hand, and gazing mournfully into her emaciated, but still brilliantly beautiful face, said: “Marguerite, will you have mercy on yourself? Will you save your life? Will you, in a word, make the revelation I require as your only possible ransom, so that I may take you where you may recover your health? Will you, Marguerite?” She shook her head in sorrowful pride. “Have you so mistaken me after all these years, Philip? And do you think that the revelation I could not make for your dear sake six years ago I can make now for my own? No, Philip, no.” And again, for a time, the harassing subject was dropped. Mrs. Helmstedt had one dear consolation; a lone angel was ever at her side, her little daughter “Margaret,” as her Anglo-Saxon father preferred to write the name. As the lady’s health temporarily rallied, her sweetest employment was that of educating this child.