Virgie's Inheritance

By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

Author of "Nora, " "Trixy, ""Earle Wayne's Nobility, ""Helen's Victory, ""A True Aristocrat, " Etc. 

Copyright, 1887, 1888, 1891By Street & Smith

Virgie's Inheritance. 

Chapter I. 

Virgie and the Benighted Traveler. 

"Virgie, I shall have to give up the race. "

"Papa!"

"My strength is failing rapidly. It was all that I could do to creep hometo-night. My trembling limbs, my labored breathing, and this dreadfulcough, all warn me that I must set my house in order, and make provisionfor your future. "

It was an apparently old man who spoke thus, and yet the years of his lifenumbered but a little over fifty. 

His hair was silvery white; his face was colorless and haggard, his eyesdim and sunken, and his form was much attenuated and bowed by the diseasewhich was fast consuming him. 

He was sitting by a blazing fire, in an ordinary easy-chair over which aheavy coverlid had been thrown to make it more comfortable; but heshivered, and hovered over the blaze, as if he were chilled to the verymarrow, while the hands which he held extended to catch the warmth werelivid, and trembling from weakness. 

The room was small, but cozy and home-like. A cheap, coarse carpet, thoughof a bright and tasteful pattern, lay upon the floor. An oval table, covered with a daintily embroidered cloth, stood in the center. There wasa pretty lamp, with a bright Japanese shade upon it. There were also a fewbooks in choice bindings, and a dainty work-basket filled with implementsfor sewing. A few pictures--some done with pen and ink, others in crayon, but all showing great talent and nicety of execution--hung, in simpleframes, upon the walls. The two windows of the apartment were screened bypretty curtains of spotless muslin over heavier hangings of crimson, whilea lounge and two or three chairs completed the furnishing of the room. 

Beside the table, in a low rocker, several paces from the invalid by thefire, yet where she could catch every expression of his pale, sad face, there sat a young girl, with a piece of fancy work in her hands, uponwhich she had been busily engaged before her father spoke. 

She was perhaps twenty years of age, with a straight, perfect form, and aface that would have better graced a a palace than the humble mountainhome where she now abode. It was a pure, oval, with delicate, beautifulbrows; soft, round cheeks, in which a lovely pink came and went with everyemotion. Her eyes were of a deep violet color, shaded by dark silkenlashes, though their expression was saddened somewhat just now by a lookof care and anxiety. Her white forehead was surmounted by richchestnut-brown hair, which was gathered into a graceful knot at the backof her finely shaped head. A straight, patrician nose; a small, but ratherresolute mouth, and a rounded chin, in which there was a bewitchingdimple; small, lady-like hands and feet, completed the <i>tout ensemble</i> ofVirginia Abbot, the daughter and only child of a whilom honored andwealthy bank president of San Francisco. 

When addressed, as recorded above, the beautiful girl had started andgrown suddenly pale, and a look of keenest pain shot into her violet eyes. 

Then her sweet mouth straightened itself into a stern, resolute line. There was a moment of solemn silence, which she broke, by saying, in arepressed but gentle tone:

"I am sorry that you are feeling worse than usual to-night, papa. I knowyou must be weary. You are always that after being all day in the mine, and the storm, of course, aggravates your cough; but if you will rest afew days you will surely be better. "

"No, Virgie, it is useless to build upon false hopes. I shall never be anybetter. My work is done. I shall go no more to my claim, and I havedecided to dispose of it to the first one who will offer me a fair pricefor it. But, dear child, if it were not for you I believe I should be gladto know that my saddened life is almost at an end. I----"

The weary voice quivered and failed here, and the man sank back in hischair with a bitter sigh. 

The young girl, her own face now blanched to the hue of death, laid downher work, arose, and moved swiftly to her father's side, where she kneltby his chair. 

"Papa, do not talk so. You must not leave me, " she cried, in a voice ofagony. "I cannot spare you. There must be something to help you--to buildup your strength. Let us go back home, where you can have the best medicaladvice. "

The man sat up in his chair, stopping her with a gesture almost ofdespair. 

"Home!" he cried, hoarsely. "Virgie, we have no home but this. You knowthat I am already the same as dead to every one but you; that even ourreal name is sunk in oblivion. "

"But, papa, you must try to live for my sake, " Virgie cried, clasping hertrembling hands about his emaciated arm, and shuddering as she felt howfrail it was. "If you will not go back, let me at least send for Dr. Truel. He is skillful. He was always our friend. He will cheer you andgive you something to build you up, and he will keep our secret, too. Oh, you ought to have had advice long ago. What shall I do in this drearyplace if you leave me alone?"

The sick man unclasped her clinging hands from his arm, and drew herslight form to him in a tender embrace. 

"My darling, " he said, fondly, "that is just what I wish to talk with youabout; so calm yourself and listen to me. Neither Dr. Truel, nor any otherdoctor, can help me now; if I had called him a year ago he might haveprolonged my life; but my pride would not let me face any one whom I hadever known. But I will not speak of the past; it is too familiar andpainful to both of us. It is useless, however, for me to think for amoment of going back, even to die, in the home where we were once sohappy, for only disgrace is connected with our name--disgrace and wrong, all the more keenly felt because unmerited. "

"Hush, Virgie!" he continued, as a shuddering sob burst from the breastpressed so closely to his, "you must not give way so. I did not mean toalarm you unnecessarily by what I have said; I may not leave you for sometime yet. I may be spared for a few months, perhaps until autumn, but Ifeel that the time has come to arrange some definite plan for your future. I must, however, give up my work, for I have no longer strength to carryit on; but if there was only some one whom I could trust to take chargeof my claim. I might even yet reap something of benefit from it to add tothe hoard that I have been saving for you against this emergency. "

"But, papa, I would much rather that you should spend every dollar thatyou have, if it would prolong your life; if I lose you, I have not afriend in the world. "

The man heaved a heavy sigh, for too well he realized the truth of herwords. 

"My dear, " he returned, with tender pathos, "if it were possible for me toregain my health, at any sacrifice, I would gladly make it for your sake. But I know that it cannot be, and my care now must be to make the bestprovision that I can for you. "

"I have been very successful since coming here, " he went on, speaking morecheerfully, "more so than I ever dared to hope, and the claim promisesmuch for the future and ought to bring a good price if sold; so you willhave quite a snug little fortune, my Virgie, and I trust that your lot inlife will yet be happy, in spite of the dark cloud that has so shadowed itin the beginning. What say you to writing to my old friend, LaurenceBancroft, of New York, confiding you to his care after----"

"Oh, my father, you make me utterly wretched, " cried the young girl, reaching up her arms and clasping them convulsively about his neck, whileshe lifted her tear-stained face appealingly to him. 

He bent forward and kissed her white forehead softly with his tremblinglips. 

"Bear with me a little longer, my daughter, and then we will never mentionthis again while I live, " he returned, huskily. "Laurence Bancroft, as youknow, was a dear friend of my early life. He has a cultivated wife, andtwo daughters about your own age; he will believe me when I tell him thetruth regarding our misfortunes, and will, no doubt, give you a home inhis own family, and care for your interests until--woman's best gift--thelove of some true man comes to you, and you have a home of your own. NewYork is almost on the other side of the world, and no evil breath of thepast will be likely to touch you there. What do you say, Virgie?--may Iwrite to my friend, giving you to his care?"

"Yes, papa, " Virgie said, wearily assenting to his project, more to put anend to the painful conversation than because she had any choice in thematter, "you may do whatever your judgment tells you is best, and I willbe guided entirely by your wishes. "

Mr. Abbot looked intensely relieved. 

This question had troubled him for many months, and he had always shrunkfrom speaking of it, because of the pain which he knew it would inflict. With this vital matter settled, he felt that he could give up all care, and spend the few remaining days of his life in peace with his idolizedchild, and calmly await the end, which he knew was so near. 

"That is right, dear, " he said, with a contented smile. "I am greatlycomforted. I will write a full account of everything, together with mywishes for your future, and it will be ready to be sent to Mr. Bancroft ata moment's warning. I do not care to have him know anything about us justyet; hark! what was that?" he broke off abruptly, and started into alistening attitude. 

"Only the wind and the storm beating against the house, I think, " answeredVirgie, lifting her head, and calmed for the moment as she, too, listenedto what had seemed an unusual noise. 

"It is a wild night, my child. I hope no one is homeless in this storm, "said Mr. Abbot. "I am thankful for this peaceful, though humble refuge, after the turmoil and wrong of a few years ago, only it is hard for you tobe so shut away and isolated from those of your own age. But surely thatwas a knock, Virgie. "

The young girl started to her feet as a loud and imperative rap echoedthrough the small entry outside the parlor. 

It was seldom that they were disturbed at that hour of the evening, foramong the hard working people of the mining district in which they lived, there were few who were not early wrapped in slumber after the labors ofthe day. 

Virgie passed quickly out of the cheerful parlor into the tiny hall, andopened the outer door, though the heavy burglar chain was fastened andwould admit of its being opened but a little ways. 

"Who is there?" she asked, in her clear, sweet tones. 

"A stranger who has lost his way and seeks direction to the nearest publicinn, " answered a rich, mellow voice from without. 

Mr. Abbot now came out, a heavy shawl wrapped about his shoulders toshield him from the dampness. 

"It is more than a mile from here, and a very poor place at that, " hesaid. 

The stranger outside gave a low whistle of dismay at this information, andmuttered something about being in "a very uncomfortable fix. "

Mr. Abbot unfastened the chain, threw wide the door, and invited theunknown to come in out of the storm. 

"Thanks, " was the courteous response; "but I will not trespass upon yourhospitality if you will kindly direct me to the inn of which you speak. The darkness came on so suddenly that I lost my way. I left Oreana atnoon to go to Humboldt, but my horse sprained his foot on the roughmountain road, and I have had to come at a snail's pace ever since. "

"You are sadly out of your way, indeed, if you are going to Humboldt, forit is a good ten miles from here. Come in--come in out of the pouringrain, and we will discuss what will be best for you to do, " returned hishost, in a hearty tone, for he was won by the man's frankness andcourtesy. 

The stranger stepped, dripping, into the hall, a tall, straight figure, booted and spurred, and enveloped in waterproof jacket, trousers, andhavelock. 

"Thanks, " he said, "you are very kind; but allow me to introduce myself;my name is Heath--William Heath, at your service. "

"Then, Mr. Heath, come to my fireside and dry and warm yourself; my nameis Abbot and this is my daughter, " replied Mr. Abbot, leading the way intothe cheerful parlor whither Virgie had retired when her father opened thedoor to the benighted wayfarer. 

Mr. Heath bowed with all the polish that could have been expected of himhad he been in a royal drawing-room instead of a rude cottage in a rudermining district of the mountains of Nevada, while his dark eyes flashedwith a look of admiration over the perfect figure and into the lovely faceof his host's daughter. 

He removed his hat and havelock, revealing a grand head covered withwaving brown hair, and a handsome face all aglow with intelligence. Hiseyes were a dark, wine-brown, his glance as keen and straight as aneagle's, his manner and bearing betraying that he was accustomed to minglewith people of culture and refinement. 

Chapter II. 

The Stranger Welcomed. 

Virginia Abbot simply inclined her regal head in returning the stranger'sgreeting; then taking up her work again, she sat down by the table, withher back toward the fire and the newcomer. She had not failed to noticehis look of surprised admiration when introduced to her, and it hadaffected her strangely. 

Five years previous Mr. Abbot and his young daughter had come to that wildregion entire strangers--the former, a man of gentlemanly bearing, somewhat past his prime; the latter a wondrously beautiful girl offifteen, just budding into womanhood, and with a dignity of mien andrefinement of speech which, together with her beauty, caused the uncouthinhabitants of the place to regard her with something of awe, and as ifthey thought she belonged to an entirely different sphere from them. 

Mr. Abbot owned a claim in the gold and silver region there, which heasserted that he was going to work himself, much to the surprise of therough miners, for he was a frail looking man. 

He built a small but very convenient house, containing five rooms, which, with the few elegancies he had brought with him, for his child's sake, andwhich proclaimed that the strangers had been accustomed to the luxuries oflife heretofore, became the pride and wonder of the settlement. 

The house was painted inside and out; there were carpets upon the floors, draperies at the windows, vases and ornaments on the mantels, pictures onthe walls. But though all the furnishings were of the simplest andcheapest, yet, to the rude and unaccustomed people about them, their homeseemed a veritable palace. 

Another mystery and evidence of superiority was the grave andself-contained Chinaman who came with them, and was installed as cook andservant in general in the small kitchen, and who waited upon the younglady of the house with so much respect and deference. 

Here the father and daughter lived in the utmost seclusion. Virgie neverwas seen outside her home unless accompanied by her father or servant, andMr. Abbot, when not in the mine, devoted himself wholly to his child. 

They made no friends, and did not mingle at all with those about them, although they were always kind and courteous to every one, and thus wonthe respect of every man, woman and child in the hamlet. Mr. Abbot had theappearance of being much broken in spirit; his countenance wore a look ofhabitual sadness, and his abundant hair, so prematurely whitened, plainlytold that some heavy trouble had overtaken him in the past. Nothing couldbe learned of their antecedents, where they had lived, or why they werethere, though Chi Lu, the servant, was often plied with questions by thecurious, and thus they were regarded as a trio of very mysteriouspersonages. 

After a year or so, it began to be whispered about that "the governor, " asMr. Abbot was called, because of the respect in which he was held, had"struck it rich, " in other words, that his claim was proving an unusuallyfruitful one, and he was making money rapidly. How this came to be knownit would be hard to say, for he was very uncommunicative, going and comingto and from his work quietly and unostentatiously, and living in thesimplest manner. 

As time passed, Virginia Abbot grew even more beautiful than she was whenshe had first come to her mountain home. The bracing air agreed with her, her health was perfect, while her simple manner of living and her regularhabits were calculated to develop to the utmost every charm, and keep herstrong, and fresh, and beautiful. 

Her mind was not allowed to lie dormant, however, for her father attendedmost carefully and faithfully to her education, and not only insisted upona regular and thorough course of study, but kept her well provided withthe literature of the times, embracing many new books and various papersand periodicals. 

But for more than a year past, Mr. Abbot's health had been failing. Thechange, however, was so gradual that Virgie did not observe it until thedisease had fastened itself so firmly upon him that he was beyond allhuman aid. The man himself fought against it for months, striving toprolong his life for the sake of his idolized daughter, although, personally, the world had no longer any charms for him; but it neverrelaxed its fatal hold, and at last, at the time of the opening of ourstory, he felt that the time had come for him to give up labor and laydown all burdens, for he knew that his days were numbered. 

The question of providing a home and protection for Virgie had longagitated his mind. 

They had no relations or friends to whom he could confide her. There werereasons why he was unwilling to appoint a guardian and send her back totheir former home, and so, at last, he resolved to commit her to the careof his early friend and college mate, Laurence Bancroft, a wealthymerchant of New York city. 

But the matter was to be taken entirely out of his hands, and thebeautiful girl's destiny settled in a way wholly unexpected by eitherfather or daughter. 

 * * * * *

When Mr. Heath, the benighted and storm-delayed traveler, threw back hisdripping coat, and seated himself at the invitation of his host, beforethe blazing fire, Mr. Abbot thought that he had seldom seen a moreattractive young man. 

He was apparently about twenty-five years of age. His dark eyer were fullof intelligence, and fringed with long silken lashes. His features wereclear cut, as if they had been chiseled in marble. A dark brown moustacheshaded, but did not conceal, a sensitive mouth, from which there flashedthe gleam of brilliant teeth whenever he spoke or smiled; his nose waswell formed, and his smooth, rather massive chin betrayed strength ofpurpose and decision of character. 

His address was very courteous, even fascinating, and his voice possesseda rich, mellow tone, with a sympathetic ring in it, to which it was adelight to listen, and which won at once upon the hearts and confidence ofhis entertainers. 

"You are unfortunate to be obliged to traverse our rough mountain roads onsuch a night as this, " Mr. Abbot observed, with a shiver, as he drewnearer the fire, and laid another heavy oaken stick across the glowingblaze. 

"That is true, sir, " responded his guest, yet the glance, which heinvoluntarily shot at Virgie, bending gracefully over her work, did notbetray an overwhelming sense of his misfortune. 

"I Am On My Way To Join A Party Of Sportsmen At Humboldt, " He Continued. "IWas Detained At Virginia City Upon A Matter Of Business, And They Went OnBefore, Promising To Wait There For Me Until To-Morrow Evening. "

"Are you traveling on horseback?" Mr. Abbot asked, with some surprise. 

"No, sir; but the train on which I started met with an accident thismorning, which was liable to detain it several hours, and being impatientof the delay, I procured a horse at Oreana, thinking I could easily reachHumboldt by evening, when I could return it by rail. But the unfortunatebeast sprained his foot on a rolling stone, as I have already told you;the storm and darkness overtook me, I lost my way, and my courage was justabout failing, when I espied the friendly lights of this settlement, and Iresolved to stop at the first house I came to and ask where I could findshelter for the night. "

Mr. Abbot had been studying the young man's face attentively during thisexplanation. 

He liked his appearance exceedingly; his countenance was honest and true, his story straightforward and well told, and some unaccountable impulseprompted him to take measures to become better acquainted with him. 

"If you are going to Humboldt, you should have taken the turn to your leftfive miles back on the mountain, " he said. "It would be impossible for youto reach it to-night, even if you could be set right, for you would besure to lose your way again in the darkness. The only public house--if youcan call it such--in this region, is at least a mile from here, and farfrom inviting or comfortable at that; so allow me, Mr. Heath, to offeryou the hospitality of our home for the night, and to-morrow you can startafresh and refreshed upon your way. "

The young man looked up with a glance of surprise, while a quick flushmounted to his brow, at this unexpected and rather extraordinary offer, for he well knew that in a mining district all strangers are regarded withsuspicion if not with positive dislike. 

"Sir, you are very kind, " he began, casting another glance toward thelovely maiden by the table, for he had seen her give a quick start at herfather's invitation, "but I fear I should trespass beyond all bounds wereI to accept your offer. "

"No, indeed, " returned Mr. Abbot, with more of eagerness in his mannerthan he was in the habit of betraying over anything. "I could not think ofallowing you to go on in this driving storm, and we can arrange it verycomfortably can we not, Virgie?" turning toward her. 

"Yes, sir, " was the low though unhesitating reply. 

"But I am an entire stranger to you. How dare you take me into yourhousehold? How do you know but that I am a robber or a brigand indisguise?" queried Mr. Heath, with a twinkle in his fine eyes. But stillhe was strongly tempted to accept the friendly offer, not only on accountof the comfort surrounding him, but because he was attracted by thecultivated gentleman and his charming daughter, both of whom were a greatsurprise to him, finding them as he had in that wild region. 

"Nay, " responded Mr. Abbot, smiling, yet meeting the frank eyes of hisguest steadily, "I think I can vouch for your character as a gentlemaneven though you are an utter stranger. Remove your wet garments, I pray, and make yourself comfortable for the night. "

"But my horse, " began Mr. Heath, suddenly bethinking himself of thedripping and suffering animal. 

"True. Pardon my thoughtlessness, " returned his host, adding, "There is asmall shed attached to our dwelling where he can at least be sheltered. Virgie, please go and send Chi Lu to assist Mr. Heath. "

Virgie immediately arose and left the room, and soon after a diminutiveChinaman appeared in the doorway, bearing a lighted lantern, andsignifying his readiness to "puttee up te hossee. "

Mr. Heath left the house with him, and both were gone some time, attendingto the animal's injured leg and trying to make him as comfortable ascircumstances would allow. 

During their absence Virgie, at the suggestion of her father, busiedherself in arranging a supper for the storm-beaten traveler, who upon hisreturn was greeted by the fumes of steaming coffee, while an appetizingarray of cold meats and other viands was spread upon the table, which hadbeen drawn up before the fire. 

"I fear Miss Abbot is making herself trouble on my account, " Mr. Heathremarked, with a swift and grateful glance at the graceful form andflushed face that was bending over the glowing coals, where the young girlwas toasting to a delicate brown a slice from a wheaten loaf. 

"No, indeed; it is no trouble; and a meal after your long ride in the rainwill not come amiss, " Virgie answered, looking up and meeting his fineeyes for an instant. 

She deposited the bread upon a plate, and inviting the young man to beseated, poured with her own hands a cup of fragrant coffee, which sheplaced before him. 

She continued to wait upon him with exquisite ease and grace until hishunger was appeased, which was not soon, for it was a rare pleasure forhim to watch her beautiful and expressive face while he chatted with herfather, sipped his coffee, and ate his toast. 

But he finished at length, and then Chi Lu was summoned the table cleared, and the room restored to its usual order. 

Mr. Abbot seldom had met a real gentleman since coming among themountains; he had lived chiefly within himself and for his child. But nowhe found that he had not lost all interest in the outside world, and heenjoyed immensely Mr. Heath's account of his travels, and his descriptionsof men and things. 

Virgie had not seen her father so bright and animated in all the fiveyears of their secluded life, and she began to hope that his fearsregarding his failing health were groundless after all. She, too, enjoyedthe young stranger's conversation, although she did not join in it. Shesat by, with her dainty embroidery in her hands, listening, and showing byher expressive face and shining eyes how rare a pleasure such congenialsociety was to her. 

But by and by she stole away to her own room, where she lay far into thenight thinking of the handsome stranger--of his eager yet respectfulglances when he looked at her; of the low, rich cadence of his voice whenhe spoke to her, and feeling that she should miss him more than she hadever yet missed anyone during the last five years, when he should go awayon the morrow. 

The two men talked some time longer after Virgie left; the Chi Lu wascalled again, the pretty lounge was converted into a comfortable bed, andMr. Heath was told that the parlor was at his service for the night. 

The young man was very thankful for the hearty hospitality of which he hadbeen the recipient, and felt that he had been extremely fortunate infinding such a pleasant abiding-place; but, although he was very wearyfrom his rough and tedious ride over the mountain, he found that slumberwas hard to woo, and he, too, lay awake for long hours, wondering over thestrange experience of the evening, and what hard fate--for hard he feltsure it must have been--could have driven a cultivated gentleman like Mr. Abbot, and his peerless daughter, who was so well fitted to shine in themost brilliant circles of the world, away from the haunts of civilizationinto that wilderness, and among the rude, uncultured, uncongenial peopleof a mining region. 

Chapter III. 

Mr. Heath Talks of Becoming a Miner. 

The next morning broke fair and beautiful. 

Every trace of the storm had passed away, save that the dust was laid andall nature looked fresher and brighter for the copious bath it hadreceived. 

Virgie Abbot, despite her sleeplessness during the first half of thenight, was up at an early hour, superintending breakfast for her fatherand their guest. 

If she had been lovely the previous evening she was doubly so now in herpretty flannel wrapper--for the mornings were chilly in that region, evenin the summer The wrapper was of a light blue tint, wonderfully becomingto her delicate complexion, and harmonized well with her eyes and thedainty pink in her cheeks. 

Her face wore a brighter, more eager look, than was its wont, thismorning, and she was full of life and energy that was born of her youthand sunny, hopeful temperament. 

The incidents of the previous evening had been a pleasant break in herhitherto monotonous life, and she was now looking forward, with no smalldegree of interest, to meeting by daylight the handsome stranger who hadtaken refuge with them. 

During all the years that she had been in that rude place she had not seenone real gentleman, excepting her father; they had never beforeentertained a visitor, and there had been nothing but her reading andstudies, her drawing and fancy work, to vary the quiet, almost dulluniformity of her existence. 

Mr. Abbot himself looked brighter and better as he came out from hischamber and gave Virgie his usual morning greeting and caress. 

This visit had evidently done him good also, and Virgie took "heart ofgrace" from the fact, and put aside, for the time at least, the anxiousfears that had so burdened her the night before. 

Breakfast was served in the simple but clean and cheerful kitchen whichled from the parlor, while the small table, laid for three, had almost anair of elegance, with its spotless cloth, its few pieces of silver, china, and cut glass, relics of former glory, and the tiny vase of flowers, withthe dew and rain still on them, which Virgie had gathered from the edge ofthe cliff near by. 

Mr. Heath's glance expressed something of surprise as it swiftly took inthese appointments; but to him the fairest sight of all was the slim butperfect figure of the young girl who sat at the head of the table, andpoured his coffee, and waited upon him with all the ease andself-possession of one who had been long accustomed to the formalities andetiquette of high life. 

The young man wondered at it. There was no other woman in the house, norhad been since they came there, for Mr. Abbot had mentioned that he losthis wife more than six years ago; but this girl was a perfect littlehostess, and dainty, to the last degree, in her person. Her hands werewhite and delicate, the pretty pink nails without a blemish; her hairsoft and silken, showing a careful wielding of the brush; her linen collarand cuffs were immaculate, her handkerchief white as snow, and fine andsheer, while everything about her bespoke lady-like refinement and a highregard for nicety of toilet. 

He could hardly keep his eyes off her, she was so fair a picture; but onceor twice she had looked up and caught his glance, flushed, and fearing toembarrass her, he turned resolutely to his host and opened a subject uponwhich he had been thinking quite, seriously. 

"I understood you to say last evening, I believe, sir, that you weredesirous of disposing of your claim, " he remarked. 

"Yes; my health is too poor to admit of my working it any longer, and Ishould be glad to dispose of it to the right person, " Mr. Abbot replied. 

"I think I know of some one who would like it, if it is still a promisingone, " the young man said, but a conscious color flushed his cheek slightlyas he felt Virgie's eyes turned upon him. 

"I honestly believe that it is richer to-day than when I began to workit, " Mr. Abbot asserted confidently. "However, " he added, "I do not askyou to take my word for it. If you know a party who would like topurchase, tell him to bring an expert and examine for himself; and eventhen if he is not satisfied to buy outright, he may work it upon sharesuntil he is convinced of its value. "

"That is fair, I am sure, " said Mr. Heath. 

"Perhaps you would like to take a look at it before you go?" suggestedhis host, who was eager to dispose of his property. 

"I would, I assure you, " was the reply; "but there is hardly time thismorning, for I feel that I must join my party immediately, else they willbe anxious regarding my safety. We are bound upon an excursion through thenorthern portion of the State, and intend to be absent a week or more; butafter that, if you will permit me, I will return here and investigatematters--that is, if you will give me the refusal of the claim untilthen. "

As the young man said this, his glance involuntarily wandered again to thebeautiful face of Virgie. 

There must have been something magnetic in his gaze, for she raised herwhite lids just then, and met the earnest, wistful look bent upon her. 

A flush leaped to her cheek, and her violet eyes dropped instantly uponher plate again, while her heart fluttered like a caged wild bird. 

"I will gladly wait your time, Mr. Heath, " Mr. Abbot responded, in asatisfied tone. "I begin to think that your losing your way and falling toour care last evening was providential. "

"I have no doubt of it, sir, " was the grave and reverent reply. "I believethat all our ways are ordered for us; that everything is arranged for usby an All-wise Power. "

Something very like a sneer curled the almost colorless lips of his hostat this unexpected assertion. 

Mr. Abbot was no believer in the individuality of God, and had spoken bothlightly and at random when he had referred to the young man's visit asbeing providential. 

"What do you mean by an All-wise Power?" he asked, skeptically. 

"I mean God, sir. "

"You believe there is a God, then?"

"Certainly; do you not?" and Mr. Heath's kind, grave eyes looked pityinglyinto the haggard, sunken face before him. 

They seemed almost to say, "If you have not this belief to comfort you, with the hand of death laid upon your very heart, I grieve inexpressiblyfor you. "

"If there is, I imagine He must allow Satan to have the control of some ofour lives, " was the evasive and bitter retort. "Virgie, Mr. Heath's cup isempty. "

But his face flushed and his hands trembled as he thus abruptly turned thetopic, showing how deeply the subject moved him; notwithstanding hispretended unbelief. 

"Thanks; no more coffee for me, " Mr. Heath said, with a smile and a bow tohis young hostess, as she offered to replenish his cup; but he noticedthat there was a troubled, anxious look in her eyes as they rested uponher father. 

He made no reply to Mr. Abbot's remark, although he looked a trifle hurt. 

He simply said, as he folded his napkin and pushed back his plate:

"I must ask you to excuse me and my lack of ceremony if I bid you goodmorning, and take French leave. I feel that I ought to get on my way assoon as possible; and believe me I am very grateful for your hospitalityand courtesy. "

Virgie arose as he spoke, and like the true little lady that she was, assured him that it had been a delight to entertain him, and she shouldlook forward with pleasure to his return. 

He thanked her, shook hands warmly with her, and then left the house, followed by Mr. Abbot, who watched him depart with a feeling of regretsuch as he had not experienced over any one during all the years of hisexile. 

Still he pleasantly anticipated his coming again, when he meant to makehim remain several days. 

He had been strangely attracted toward him from the moment when he hadfirst heard his mellow, sympathetic tones, asking to be directed to aplace of shelter. He knew that he possessed a grand character, for hecarried the stamp of true nobility upon his frank, handsome face. 

"That is a promising young man, Virgie, " he said, as he returned to theparlor after watching the horse and its rider disappear down the mountain. "I should like to know where he came from, and more about him. "

Virgie did not reply, but she turned away from the window where she, too, had been watching the receding horseman, with a shy, sweet smile on herred lips. William Heath's last glance had been for her, as he doffed hishat and bowed low in his saddle when he turned down the road. 

During all the week that followed her step was lighter and her facebrighter than its wont, and she went singing about the house to thedelight of her father, who was now at home all the day long, as he hadgiven up going to the mine. 

Mr. Abbot had appeared very thoughtful after the departure of his youngguest, often falling into a profound reverie, in which he would sit forhours. 

Virgie often wondered what he could be thinking about, but she did notfeel like questioning him, lest he should refer again to the painful topicof his leaving her. 

One day, however, coming into the room suddenly, she saw her mother'sbible in his hands, and she was sure there were tears in his eyes. Sheappeared not to notice either his employment or his emotion, but soonstole softly away again, and went weeping up to her own room. 

After that he busied himself with writing a great deal, and she felt surethat he was making arrangements for her of which he had spoken on thatstormy evening. A great dread came over her at the thought of being leftalone in the world; and yet, in spite of all, she looked forward to thereturn of Mr. Heath with more of pleasure and anticipation than she hadknown for many a year. 

Thus more than a week went by, and one afternoon Virgie, her father beingasleep and the house oppressively still, took her book and went out to alittle nook back of her cottage, where she was in the habit of going tostudy, and where Chi Lu had built a rustic seat for her beneath a greatpine tree that grew out of a cleft in the mountain. 

But she could not concentrate her thoughts upon the page before her; theywent roving after a coal black steed and its handsome rider, until finallyher book dropped from her hands, her eyes fixed themselves dreamily uponthe lofty, far-off peaks of the Humboldt Mountains, and she was lost totime and place--everything save her own delightful musings. 

So absorbed was she that she was not aware of the approach of any oneuntil a small but exquisitely arranged bouquet of mountain flowers werelaid upon the seat beside her, and a rich but well remembered voice said:

"Pardon me, Miss Abbot, for intruding upon your solitude, but Chi Lu toldme that Mr. Abbot was resting and could not be disturbed at present, andthat I should find you here. "

Virginia sprang to her feet, the tint of the wild rose in her cheeks, herviolet eyes grown black with repressed excitement. 

"Mr. Heath?" she cried, her scarlet lips parting in a bewildering smile. 

"Yes; forgive me for having startled you so, " he said, gently, then addingwith a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You were surely in a very brownstudy. "

"I am afraid I was, " she returned, laughing. "But what lovely flowers!"she continued, taking them up and bending to inhale their fragrance. "Howkind of you to gather them for me. "

The young man's eyes lingered about her in a delighted gaze, for she madethe fairest picture imaginable standing there in her soft gray dress withits collar and cuffs of black velvet, a knot of scarlet ribbon at herthroat, the brilliant flowers in her hands, and a fleecy white shawlwrapped about her shoulders. Her shining hair was gathered into a satinybrown coil at the back of her head and pinned with a silver arrow, while afew naturally curling locks lay lightly on her forehead. The dark, moss-grown rock was behind her; the softly waving plumy boughs of thepine tree above her, a carpet of tender green beneath her feet. 

"You are still trembling from the shock that I have given you, " he said ina tone of self-reproach, and noticing how the flowers quivered in hergrasp, "pray, pardon me and give me a handshake of welcome, or I shallalmost regret that I came. "

She looked up frankly into his dark eyes, and laid her small handunhesitatingly in his. 

"You are very welcome, Mr. Heath, " she said, "and I am sure that papa willbe very glad to see you. "

William Heath smiled at her words. 

He felt sure that she, too, was glad to see him--that his coming was apleasant break in the monotony of her life; her varying color, the bright, happy gleam of her eyes told him this. 

Her wonderful beauty, so out of place in that wild region, thrilled himstrangely. Her queenly manner, her delicacy and refinement astonished him, and he wondered more and more what mysterious circumstances could havecombined to drive two such cultivated people so far from civilization tohide themselves in the rugged fastnesses of those dreary mountains. 

Chapter IV. 

A Mountain Ramble. 

"You were reading, " he remarked, stooping to pick up the book that hadfallen to the ground as she arose. "Tacitus!" he added, in a tone ofastonishment, as his eye fell upon the title page. 

"Yes, I am reviewing; papa likes me to study a little every day, still, "Virgie returned, quietly, while she examined her flowers with a criticaleye, and wondered that a gentleman could have arranged them so well. 

He must be an artist, she thought, for no one save an artist, or a loverof art, could have taken such pains to harmonize colors like that. 

"I should suppose you would labor under serious difficulties in trying topursue your studies in such a place as this, " Mr. Heath remarked. 

"Oh, no, papa is a fine scholar, and he makes a most delightful teacher. "

"And have you pursued a regular course under him?"

"Yes, partly. I left school when I was fifteen, but I have kept right onthe same as I should have done if I had remained, and I graduated twoyears ago, " she concluded, smiling archly at the idea of graduating inthat wild country. 

"And with high honors, of course, " said her companion in the same vein. 

"Certainly; with all the honors, since there was no one to compete withme or to bear away the palm from me. But, Mr. Heath, you must be bothweary and hungry after your ride over the mountains; come in, and let meget you a lunch, " Virgie concluded, on hospitable thoughts intent. 

"No, indeed, thank you; I will eat nothing until tea time, when, if youwill permit me, I will gladly join you. I should much prefer to sit hereand enjoy this magnificent view with you to going indoors. "

He seated himself, as he spoke, upon the rustic seat, and Virgie, following his example, they fell into a pleasant chat, which lasted morethan an hour. 

Virgie never forgot that delicious hour, neither did her companion, whowas every moment growing more deeply interested in the beautiful mountainmaiden. 

He talked upon many themes, and was surprised to find how fluently shecould converse with him, showing how much and how thoroughly she had read, and how wisely and carefully her father had superintended her education. She was far above the average woman in point of intellect and culture, hetold himself and it was a pity that her life should be wasted in thatwretched place. 

But they were at length interrupted by Chi Lu, who came to tell them thatMr. Abbot was awake, and had asked for them. 

They immediately arose to go to him, and found him sitting upon the tinyporch in front of the cottage. 

He was looking thinner and more worn, Mr. Heath thought, than when he hadlast seen him, and his cough was far from troublesome, even though theweather was milder. It was evident, to him, at least, that the man was inthe last stages of consumption, and could not live many months, if weeks, although, as the weather grew warmer, he might rally somewhat. 

He greeted the young man warmly, and made many inquiries regarding histrip and the success which he and his party had met with in their sport. 

"Very good, " Mr. Heath told him, adding, "And now my friends have gone toSalt Lake City, while I have retraced my steps hither to talk with youabout that claim of yours. "

Virgie looked up quickly at this, a lovely flush rising to her cheek. Ifonly he would become its purchaser. 

The eyes of the two young people met, and held each other in a glance thatsent the blood coursing more rapidly than usual through their veins. 

Mr. Abbot's face, brightened. 

"Then you still think that you know some one who will purchase it?" hesaid, eagerly. 

"Yes, sir--if--if it proves all that you have described it, I think I maylike to buy it myself, " Mr. Heath answered quietly, but with rising color. 

"You! you don't look like a person who would care to take to mining for aliving, " returned his host, in a surprised tone. 

"I might say the same of you, sir, " said the young man, smiling. 

Mr. Abbot flushed, and for a moment appeared considerably agitated andunable to speak. 

Then he said, with something of hauteur in his manner:

"Sometimes a person is compelled by circumstances, over which he has nocontrol, to adopt a pursuit, which under other conditions he would shun asboth unfitting and obnoxious. "

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Abbot, " Mr. Heath hastened to say, in adeprecatory tone. "I had no intention of calling to mind anything of anunpleasant nature; my reply was lightly and thoughtlessly given. However, I have always had a desire to see something of mining, and although I maynot attempt to work at it myself, I think I should like to own a claim. "

"Very well; then to-morrow I will show you over the premises; and explainall that you may wish to know; perhaps, though you may not be quite somuch in favor of a miner's life when you come to realize the difficultiesattending it. "

Chi Lu now interrupted with the information that tea was ready, and Mr. Abbot repeated the invitation that Virgie had already given to their newfriend, insisting further, that he should remain their guest until heshould decide regarding the purchase of the claim. 

Upon being assured that it would inconvenience the household in no way, heconsented, nothing loath at the prospect of being allowed to bask inVirgie's presence, and to have an opportunity to study her character morefully. 

After tea, which was really a dainty meal, far better and more acceptablyserved than any the young traveler had eaten since leaving San Franciscothree weeks previous, Mr. Heath, seeing that Mr. Abbot was weary and moreinclined to rest upon the lounge than to converse, asked Virgie if shewould allow him to be her escort and go out for a ramble. 

The young girl flushed with pleasure at the request, and cordiallyassented. 

She wrapped her fleecy shawl once more about her shoulders, and tying adainty hat--which Chi Lu's skillful fingers had woven from mountaingrasses, and her own fair hands had trimmed--upon her pretty brown head, they sauntered forth. 

The sun had gone down, but the western sky was all ablaze with crimson andorange, which gradually faded into soft purple and deeper blue in theupper sky. There were mountains all about them, some darkly green withfir, spruce, and pine, others of brighter and tenderer tints in theirdress of oak, maple, and birch, while here and there arose one bald andgray, all of solid rock, with now and then a patch of moss clinging to itstime worn sides, but giving variety to the scene and enhancing by contrastthe whole picture. 

"Where would you like to go?" Virgie asked, as they passed out of thelittle gate into the rough road. 

"Wherever you will take me, " Mr. Heath replied, as he looked smilinglydown into the beautiful face upraised to his. 

"Then I will take you up to the Bare Ledge; the finest view can beobtained from there, " the girl replied as she moved on to hide the blushwhich his look had called to her face. 

It moved her strangely whenever she met the gaze of the grand man, forgrand her soul told her he was, with that magnificent head, thatintelligent face, and that quiet, yet high-bred dignity of manner whichshe had never seen in any other save her father. 

"The Bear Ledge?" repeated Mr. Heath. "Why is it called that? Is ithaunted by wild beasts? If it is, I shall certainly object to your goingthere. "

"Oh, no; it is not that kind of a bear at all, " laughed Virgie, thesilver ripple of amusement breaking like music upon the evening air. "Itis called so because it is a mass of rock entirely barren; nothing willgrow upon it; it seems to be the one spot in all this region that isabsolutely desolate, and yet from it you may view a world of beauty. "

On they went up the mountain, conversing now upon one topic, now uponanother, yet both conscious of but one prominent fact--that they weretogether, and supremely happy in each other's society. 

At last, however, their climb was over, and following a rough path thatled along the side of the mountain for some distance, they at length cameout upon a broad ledge or table rock, which was indeed barren todesolation. 

But the vista that opened out before them was beautiful beyonddescription. 

Mountains everywhere--above, below, and on either hand; but between themwere fertile little valleys, with here and there glittering lakes withtiny streamlets trickling into them, that seemed like silver brooches andchains garnishing nature's emerald vestments. 

The youthful couple stood wrapt in silence for several minutes, viewingthe varied landscape. To Virgie the scene was familiar as an oft-repeatedtale, and yet she was never weary of it. To her companion it was one ofthe loveliest views that he had ever gazed upon, even though he hadvisited many lands and climbed many a mountain. 

"It is grand!" said Mr. Heath, at last. 

"It is grand!" echoed Virgie, drawing in a deep breath of pure air, andsweeping a delighted glance over all the fair scene. 

"I thank you very much for bringing me here, " her companion continued. "Iwould hardly have believed there could be such an exquisite view in thisregion; my disagreeable ride, when I came here before, rather prejudicedme against the locality. Do you come here often?"

"I used to, before papa's health failed him, " Virgie answered, with aregretful sigh, as she remembered how little her father had been able togo about of late. "We used to come here almost every Sabbath in fineweather, with our books and papers, and spend half the day--it is all thechurch we have had--and I shall always love the spot. "

"No doubt you do, and yet----"

Virgie looked up inquiringly as he paused abruptly. 

"I was thinking, " he continued, in reply to her glance, "that thismountain must be a wild and lonely place for one like you to spend yourlife in. "

"Yes, it is lonely, " the young girl responded, with a wistful gleam in herviolent eyes. 

"Have you lived here long, Miss Abbot?"

"Five years--a little more. "

"So long? Surely you cannot have had much congenial society, " Mr. Heathremarked, as he contemplated with no favoring eye the rude hamlet farbelow them on their right. 

"None, save my father. "

"And have you never been lonely, and yearned for youthful companionship?"

"Oh, yes, often, " and the bright tears sprang quickly into Virgie's blueeyes, as she thought of the nights she had wept herself to sleep fromsheer homesickness and a feeling of utter desolation. "But, " she continuedmore brightly, and winking rapidly to keep the tell-tale drops fromfalling. "I can bear loneliness, or almost anything else, for my father'ssake. "

"Poor child! brave little woman!" thought the man by her side, "it musthave been very much like being buried alive, and she has borne it like aheroine; but she will not have to endure it much longer 'for her father. 'I wonder what will become of her when he is gone. "

"Mr. Abbot seems very feeble, " he said aloud, "do you not think a changewould be beneficial to him?"

"I--do not know, " Virgie began wistfully; then added, more to herself thanto him, "Where could we go?"

"I would advise the sea-shore. I should think the salt air would do himgood. Santa Cruz, Monterey, or any of those places on the Californiacoast, would be both pleasant and healthful. "

A startled look came into Virgie's eyes, and her face grew pale. 

She had often been to Santa Cruz and Monterey, in the old delightful dayswhen her mother was living, where she had reigned like a little queen, andthey had all been so happy, with no suspicion of the black shadow that wascreeping upon them so surely. 

"No, no, we could not go there; I--I do not believe that papa could bepersuaded to leave home, " she faltered with evident nervousness andembarrassment. 

"There is a sad history and a secret here, " said Mr. Heath to himself, andhe wondered more than ever what cruel misfortune could have driven thesepeople thus into exile. 

"Has Mr. Abbot ever consulted a physician?" he asked. 

"No; there is no physician near us. But papa understands something ofmedicine himself, " Virgie answered, sighing, for her heart was very heavywhenever she thought of her father's condition, and it was evident to herthat Mr. Heath considered him to be in a very critical state. 

He saw that it troubled her to talk about it, and resolved that he wouldnot refer to the subject again. 

As they stood there the gorgeous tints faded out of the western sky, apurplish haze settled over mountain and valley, like a gauzy vailsoftening all their outlines, and a mist was beginning to rise from thedepths below. 

"The dew is falling, Miss Abbot. I fear you will take cold in thisdampness. Shall I take you back now?" Mr. Heath asked. 

"Yes. I think it will be hardly safe for us to linger longer, " shereplied. "But, Mr. Heath, be careful as you go down; the path is notaltogether safe. "

The young man laughed lightly. 

"I have scaled greater heights, climbed steeper and more rugged paths thanthese, Miss Abbot, " he said. "The Alps, the Pyrenees, the Caucasus, areall familiar ground, and this is but child's play compared with them. "

"Oh, then you have been in Europe?" Virgie cried, with animation. 

"Yes, in almost every portion of it, " he answered, watching her kindlyface with admiration. 

"How favored you are, " she sighed wistfully. "I have longed with a mightylonging to visit foreign lands. "

"Have you? Perhaps some time your wish may be gratified. I hope it maybe, " he returned, in an earnest tone. "Now give me your hand, and let meassist you down this slippery path. "

"No, no. Please care for yourself, Mr. Heath, and let me follow you, " theyoung girl pleaded. "I know every step of the way, and it is all strangeto you. "

But he stood still in the way, with his hand outstretched to her, resoluteyet smiling. He would not yield his point, and without another word shelaid her own within his, and together they went down the mountain path, heguiding her steps as carefully as if she had never been over the groundbefore, and she finding it very pleasant to be so shielded and attended. 

When they reached more level ground he drew the hand he held within hisarm, and they slowly wended their way back in the gloaming to the cottage, Virgie feeling strangely light-hearted and happy, and almost as if a newand beautiful life was about opening before her, while William Heath, witha twinkle of amusement in his fine eyes, wondered what his aristocraticmother and sister would say; what another brilliantly beautiful womanwould think to see him thus playing the devoted cavalier to this simpleand unpretending mountain maiden whom he thought so lovely. 

He had at that moment in his pocket, letters from two of them, begging himto "quit his wanderings, " to "come home and settle down to the realbusiness of life. The property needed his care, and--Sadie had not beenlike herself since his departure. "

These words came to him now, but they did not change in the least thepurposes that were taking root in his mind--the determination to remain inthat isolated hamlet as long as <i>Virginia Abbot's father should live</i>. 

Chapter V. 

"Who Is He, and Why Is He Here?"

The next morning Mr. Abbot and his young guest visited the mine, and, after a thorough examination of the former's claim, and instituting someinquiries, more for form's sake than anything else, regarding the wealthof the mine generally, Mr. Heath became the purchaser of Mr. Abbot'sproperty, and at once set about hiring competent miners to work it forhim. 

"It may prove but a foolish, quixotic undertaking after all, " he toldhimself, when his negotiations were completed, "but I must have someexcuse for remaining here. That girl is the most beautiful being I evermet. She has power to move me as I was never moved before. I simply<i>cannot</i> go away and leave her. I am sure her father can live but a littlewhile, and then--"

What was to happen after Mr. Abbot should be taken away remained unsaid, and Mr. Heath walked on for a while with bent head and thoughtful brow. 

He was looking about him a little to find a place in which to live whilehe should remain on the mountain, for he was resolved that he wouldtrespass upon Mr. Abbot's hospitality no longer than he was obliged to, although every hour in Virgie's presence was perfect delight to him. 

"I would give a good deal to know their history, " he resumed, after alittle. "It is the greatest mystery--their being here. The man showsculture and familiarity with men and things; he is unusually keen andshrewd in business matters, while the way he has managed his daughter'seducation betrays the scholar and a mind of no ordinary power and ability;and to be <i>here</i>, working with the common herd in a <i>mine!</i> I do notunderstand it!"

While he was speculating thus regarding his new friends, Mr. Abbot andVirgie were engaged in the same manner with reference to him. 

"Well, Virgie, I have sold my claim, and for a generous sum, too. Mr. Heath is no haggler, and gave me my price without a demur; but I thinkthat it is very queer that a young man of his stamp should care to engagein any such business. "

"It is rather strange, " Virgie admitted, absently. 

"He is far above the people with whom he will come in contact, " continuedher father. "He has evidently been accustomed to the very best of society, is well educated and fine appearing, and seems to have an abundance ofmeans. What do you make of him, dear?"

"I should say that he is very much of a gentleman, papa, " replied theyoung girl, flushing, as she remembered their walk of the previousevening, the care and attention which he had bestowed upon her, and thedelight which she had experienced in his presence. 

"Yes, that goes without saying; but, does he seem like an American toyou?"

"I had not given a thought to his nationality, " Virgie answered, lookingup curiously. 

"Well, it strikes me that he may be English, although there is nothing inhis speech or manner to betray it. He is built like an Englishman, andsomehow the idea has taken possession of me that he belongs over thewater, and so, his desire to settle here seems all the moreincomprehensible. "

"It may be a whim--a romantic desire to learn something of a miner'slife, " observed Virgie; "or, " with more animation, "he may be an author, papa, and is taking this way to study certain phases of character withreference to writing a book. "

"Well, Virgie, " said Mr. Abbot, smiling, "I must confess that is the mostreasonable explanation that could suggest itself, and possibly, with yourwoman's intuition, you have hit upon the right solution of the mystery. Yes, " after a thoughtful pause, "I shouldn't wonder if you were right. Hissaying that he did not intend to work the mine himself goes to show thatit is a secondary object, and he does not care particularly about theprofit of it. He is very pleasant company. I believe his coming has doneme good. "

"I am sure it has, " Virgie answered, brightly; "and papa, now that yourmind is relieved of all pecuniary care, don't you think you will continueto improve?"

"No, Virgie, " her father returned, gravely; "do not allow my temporaryimprovement to deceive you. A fatal disease has fastened itself upon me, and I know that I have not long to live. "

"Oh, papa!" exclaimed the lovely girl, sharply. "I will not believe it. Pray, <i>pray</i> try what medical advice will do for you. "

"Hush, my child, " Mr. Abbot returned, deeply moved. "I did not mean torefer to this again, but you force me to do so; nothing short of a miraclecould give me a sound pair of lungs again. "

"Then let us try change of air--anything so that I may keep you with me, "Virgie pleaded, yet knowing, as she did so, that there was no place onearth that held so much attraction for her now as the humble home whichheretofore had seemed so lonely and isolated. 

A subtle charm seemed suddenly to have fallen upon it; everything lookedbrighter; all things surrounding it had become dearer. 

"No, dear; no air will be so good for me as this pure, bracing mountainatmosphere, " her father replied, gently. "I would shrink from going to anyplace where we should be likely to find familiar faces--nothing wouldbreak me down so quickly. Be patient, Virgie for a little longer, and then<i>you</i> shall go back to the world, where you ought long ago to have beenwith people of your own age. "

"Oh, papa! I care nothing for the world nor for society without you, " shesobbed, realizing more fully than she ever had done, that she would soonbe fatherless. 

"But it is not right that you should spend your life in such a place asthis, " responded Mr. Abbot. "I have written to Mr. Bancroft, and ifanything happens to me suddenly you will find the letter in my desk, andmust send it to him immediately. I would mail it now, only--I cannot feelreconciled to having any one learn of our hiding-place while I live. Onething more I must speak of. I should have done so the other night if wehad not been interrupted. When I am gone I want you to lay my body here, under the shadow of the old pine tree. "

"Papa, papa! you will break my heart! Surely you would wish to lie besidemy mother!" Virgie cried, the tears raining over her cheeks. 

Mr. Abbot's face was almost convulsed with pain for a moment. 

"Yes, if that were possible, " he said, at length, "but no one must everknow the fate of Abbot Al--Ha! Virgie, I had nearly uttered the dishonoredname!" he panted. 

"Papa, you shall not talk so, " the girl cried, wiping her tears andturning on him almost indignantly. 

"I would not pain you, my darling, " he answered, gently; "but if therewere no cloud hanging over us, I should be only too glad to go back to ourold home to die and be laid beside my loved ones. It cannot be, however, "he concluded, sighing wearily. 

"But, dear papa, the dreadful past was caused by no fault of your own, andit is not right that you should suffer as if it had been, " Virgie said, passionately. 

A cynical smile curled the lips of the sick man. 

"The world would tell a far different story if it should ferret out mygrave and see my name blazoned above it; and as long as its poisonoustongues continue to speak slightingly of me, it must never know aughtabout me. So do as I bid you; promise that you will obey me, Virgie. "

And the almost broken-hearted girl promised, but feeling as if it would bealmost more than she could bear, to go back to the gay world, where shewould be kindly cared for and sheltered, and leave her dear father lyingin his lonely grave upon that desolate mountain. 

William Heath entered with great apparent interest upon his miningoperations, and although he frankly acknowledged his entire ignorance ofthe business, exhibited a goodly amount of judgment and common sense whichwarned the workmen whom he had hired that it would not be well for them toattempt to take advantage of him. 

He was unable to find any place in which he was willing to live, so hecaused a small cabin to be erected just opposite Mr. Abbot's dwelling, furnished it simply but comfortably from the nearest supply station, andwith Mr. Abbot's permission, contracted with Chi Lu to keep his tablesupplied with all needful provisions. 

No one would have supposed from his humble surroundings from theindustrious and energetic life which he led, and the total absence ofanything like arrogance or assumption, that he belonged to an almost royalfamily, and had been for years the petted darling of fashionable circlesand drawing rooms, the catch of many seasons, and the prize for which fondmammas and beautiful, aspiring maidens had long angled in vain. 

But such was the fact, and William Heath had thus isolated himself fromhis home and all that he held most dear simply because, while on apleasure trip, he had accidentally met a beautiful girl who had chanced totouch a chord in his heart that had never vibrated before. 

These two young people were now thrown almost daily into each other'ssociety. 

Mr. Heath was quite literary in his tastes, and after the duties of theday were over he invariably sought the companionship of Virgie, sometimesreading to her while she worked, and often with her as she stillpersisted in reviewing certain studies and authors which she loved. 

The failing invalid, too, received much of his care and attention, whilemany delicacies, which he had never taken pains to procure for himself, found their way to his table to help sustain his waning strength. 

It is easy to see whither all this tended. 

Virgie soon learned to look for Heath's coming, to listen for hisfootsteps and the sound of his voice, as she had never looked for orlistened to anything else in the world before. She began to rely upon him, to experience a sense of restfulness and content in his care thatsometimes made her wonder how she had ever been able to live without him. 

There came new beauty, and light, and earnestness into her face, atenderer smile to her red lips, a more musical cadence into her voice. Thehours dragged heavily without him, and they took to themselves wings whenhe came. 

Before she realized the fact she had learned to love him with all thestrength of her nature, and her destiny was sealed. 

Thus weeks and months went by. 

For a time the warm, genial summer weather seemed to hold Mr. Abbot'sdisease somewhat in check, and, as he was cheerful, and enjoyed thenovelty of having two young and charming people about him, there was alittle season during which that small household was very happy. 

He studied the young stranger attentively, and was more and moreprepossessed in his favor. They conversed frequently upon topics which Mr. Abbot had long been in the habit of scoffing at, but there was an elementof reverence in Mr. Heath's nature that commanded his respect in spite ofpreconceived ideas and a tendency to skepticism. His arguments were alwaysreasonable and convincing. He could not fail to feel this influence; andit was not long before Virgie could see that a great change had takenplace in her father's feelings regarding his relations to an overrulingpower and the future, which hitherto had seemed so vague and uncertain. 

Yet, notwithstanding all this, he often experienced a feeling ofuneasiness. 

He could not fail to perceive that Virgie was learning to care a greatdeal for their new friend, and that Mr. Heath was deeply interested in hisdaughter. 

This was all well enough if Mr. Heath was what he appeared to be, and hisintentions were honorable. 

But he could never quite divest himself of the feeling that there wassomething rather mysterious in his desire to remain in that remote region, and it would be terrible if any harm should result from it to his one ewelamb. 

He had always guarded her so tenderly and carefully no breath of evil, scarce a sorrow, save their one great sorrow, had ever touched her. Onceor twice the thought had come to him, prompted, no doubt, by thecircumstances which had driven him to that place, that the man might havebecome entangled in some wrong or crime, and was hiding, like himself, from the world and justice; and yet it was difficult to fancy that he wasnot all that was honorable and upright, for his life and conduct from dayto day were beyond reproach. 

"If they love each other, and he is all he seems, I could give her tohim, and feel more content than I ever thought to be, " he said to himself, while brooding upon the subject one afternoon while Virgie and her loverwere out on a ramble. "She would be far better off under the care andprotection of a kind husband, than she would be to send her to New York. Her future would be settled, and there would be no fear on account of thesnares and temptations of society in the gay city. 

"Still I really know nothing about him. He says nothing about himself, hishome, or his family. If it should turn out that he has a suspicion thatshe will have money, and he is seeking her for that, it would be a fearfulblow. I could not bear that her young life should be ruined. "

He sat in troubled thought for a long time, considering the subject fromevery point, sometimes reproaching himself for not having foreseen thedanger of allowing the two young people to come together, and refused tosell his claim to Mr. Heath; then again feeling a sense of shame for hisunworthy suspicions of one who bore the stamp of true nobility upon hisvery face. 

At length he was aroused from his reverie by the sound of the voice heknew and loved so well; and, sitting suddenly erect and speaking withresolution, he said:

"I am her father. I have a right to know. He shall tell me who he is, andwhy he is here. "

Chapter VI. 

"Will You Give Me Your Daughter?"

"Papa, " said Virgie, putting a flushed, beautiful face inside the roomwhere her father was sitting, and all unconscious of the very seriousconsiderations that were agitating his mind: "I have invited Mr. Heath totake tea with us. A basket of the loveliest peaches came to us thisafternoon from some mysterious source, which, however, I am inclined tothink, he could tell us something about if he chose. So, if you entertainhim for a little while, I will go and prepare a dish of them for him toshare with us. "

"Yes, yes. Come in, Mr. Heath. I was waiting to see you. Run away, Virgie, and attend to your peaches, and I will see that our friend is properlyentertained until tea is ready, " the invalid responded, with unusualanimation. 

Virgie tripped lightly up to her chamber, where she removed her hat, andstopped a moment before her glass to rearrange the locks that lay lightlyupon her forehead, and blushed a conscious rosy red as she looked into hereyes and read the strangely happy expression that lay in their cleardepths. Then she tied a long white apron around her slim waist, and wentdown to pare her peaches, never suspecting the vital questions that werebeing discussed in the little parlor so near her. 

"Mr. Heath, " Mr. Abbot began, as the young man had seated himself, "I wasthinking of you just as you entered, and had resolved to ask you a coupleof very plain, and to me, important questions. "

"Which, no doubt, I shall be very glad to answer if I can do so, " hiscompanion responded, smiling, yet flushing lightly as he began to suspectwhat the nature of the invalid's inquiries might be. 

"Thank you, " responded Mr. Abbot, courteously, and then added, gravely: "Ido not need to remind you, I am sure, that as a father I am often anxiousregarding my daughter's future, and for this reason I feel compelled toask you that which, under other circumstances I should not feel at libertyto ask. Will you tell me who you are?"

"My name, Mr. Abbot, is--William Heath, " the young man began, lookingthoughtful; then seemed to hesitate to go on. 

"Is that all that you have to tell me about yourself?" the invalidinquired, with some dignity, and attentively studying the face oppositehim. "I knew that before, " he went on, a suspicion of sarcasm in his tone, "but I have long felt that there was something of mystery connected withthe circumstances of your being here. It is rather extraordinary that ayoung man of your talent and culture should desire to locate in a roughplace like this. It has been evident to me for some time that your miningoperations were of secondary importance to you, for you cannot reap muchif any profit. It must take nearly all you realize to pay the two men youhire to work your claim, while you lead, comparatively, a life of leisure. My second question was regarding this--why are you here?"

William Heath lifted his frank, dark eyes, and looked straight into theface of his host, and said, in a low tone, but with an earnestness whichbetrayed that he felt he had much at stake:

"Mr. Abbot, I will answer your last question first, as frankly as you haveasked it, though, no doubt, you will be greatly surprised, and perhapsstartled, by my reply. I am here simply and solely to try and win VirginiaAbbot for my wife. "

Mr. Abbot sat erect, looking astonished indeed at this astoundingstatement, and a spot of deep red settled in each hollow cheek. 

"What can you mean? You never saw her until three months ago!" he said, excitedly. 

"True, I never saw her until that wild, stormy night when I came to you aweary, dripping traveler and you so kindly extended to me yourhospitality. But I began to love your daughter that very evening. I do notneed to tell you that she is beautiful, for you know it; but to me sheseemed the fairest woman that I had ever seen; her presence moved me as Ihad never been moved before, and I felt as if I could hardly go on to joinmy friends and leave her. But I suddenly found a pretext for returningwhen you mentioned that you desired to dispose of your claim. I resolvedthat I would become the purchaser. I would come here and remain to studythe character of your daughter, and if she proved all that I fancied her, I would strive to win her for my wife. This, my dear sir, is why I amhere; and now--will you give her to me?"

"Have you said anything to Virgie about this?" Mr. Abbot asked, lookingvery grave. 

"No, sir; I have not breathed a word of my intentions to her; but Iaccepted her invitation to tea this evening with the determination to tellyou this, if I could make the opportunity, and ask your sanction to mysuit before speaking to her. "

Mr. Abbot looked gratified. 

"That was honorable of you, " he said. "It meets my estimate of yourcharacter. "

"Thank you, sir, " Mr. Heath returned, flushing slightly, then continued:"I am not given much to rhapsody or extravagances of language, but I knowthat I can never be a happy man unless I win Virgie, and if you will giveher to me, I promise most solemnly to devote my life to her happiness. "

"Is William Heath your true name?" Mr. Abbot questioned, determined toknow all about him before committing himself. 

"Yes, sir. I hope you do not think I have been masquerading under a falsename, " returned the young man, a quick flush mantling his cheek. 

"Pardon me; but you must remember that I could not account for your beinghere, and--and I was a little suspicious, I own, that you were not quitewhat you pretended to be, " said the invalid, apologetically, and yetregarding him keenly. 

The flush on William Heath's face deepened. He looked very thoughtful fora moment, then said:

"Mr. Abbot, you have read between the lines better than I thought. I wouldhave preferred to remain plain William Heath to every one until after Ihad won my love; but perhaps I had better be perfectly frank with you. Iam not an American. "

"I thought so, " returned his companion, quietly. 

"Did you?" asked the young man, looking surprised. "I compliment you uponyour penetration then, for I have passed for one of your countrymen almosteverywhere since coming to this country. "

"I think you are an Englishman, " said Mr. Abbot. 

"I am, sir. I have an estate called Heathdale in the county of Hampshire, England. I own another in Surrey. Mr. Abbot, I am an English baronet, andI have simply been a visitor and traveler in this country during the lastyear. "

"You, an English baronet!" exclaimed Mr. Abbot, excitedly, a vivid flushsuffusing his face, then quickly receding, leaving him deadly pale. 

"Yes, sir; but, pray believe me, I had no intention of boasting of eithermy wealth or title, " observed the young man modestly. 

"Oh!" sighed the sick man. "I am afraid then that you can never marryVirgie. "

"Sir! Why not? What is there in what I have told you to debar me frommaking your daughter my wife? I should suppose you would feel that I haveit in my power to make her all the happier on account of it. "

"But you do not know, you cannot understand, you English are so proud, sotenacious of honor and caste. Ah, my poor child!" Mr. Abbot cried, incoherently, and appearing greatly agitated and distressed. 

"I am sure, my friend, I cannot comprehend this excessive emotion, " SirWilliam--as we shall call him henceforth--remarked. 

"Would you be willing to marry a woman whose name is irretrievably linkedwith disgrace?" Mr. Abbot asked, while cold perspiration started out uponhis forehead, and his face was almost convulsed with his anguish of mind. 

He knew that Virgie had grown to love this man. He was conscious of thepride and prejudices of the English aristocracy, and he believed that whenhe should tell the story of his life, as he knew it was only right heshould do, Sir William Heath would no longer care to make his daughter hiswife, and her heart would be broken. 

Sir William looked up, startled at this question, his own face palingsuddenly. 

"Surely, Mr. Abbot, you cannot mean anything so bad as that, " he replied, in a low, pained tone. 

"I will tell you all about it, " said the sick man, "and then you mustdecide for yourself whether you are still willing to wed the daughter of adishonored man. Of course you have seen from the beginning of youracquaintance with us that no pleasure or profit that might accrue to usfrom this kind of a life could ever reconcile us to it; that only someterrible misfortune could have driven me and my beautiful darling intosuch a wild and desolate region as this. "

"Yes; I have felt that there was something mysterious in your beinghere--some secret reason why you should have shut yourselves away from allcomfort and civilization, " Sir William admitted, as his companion pausedfor strength to go on. "But I have never attributed it to any willfulwrong on your part. "

"Thank you for your faith in me, " returned Mr. Abbot, gratefully. "I onlywish the world at large was as charitable; if it had been, I need not havebeen here now, on the verge of the grave, nor been obliged to doom mylonely child to a life of exile, when everything should be at thebrightest for her; neither should we have been obliged to disown a namewhich, until recently had always been an honored and respected one". 

"Then your name is not Abbot, " said Sir William. 

"Yes, but that is not the whole of it; I will, however, confide that toyou later. But of course I tell you this in strictest confidence; whateveryour decision may be after you hear my story, I charge you not to betrayme to any one. "

"You may trust me, " said the young man, quietly. 

"Then draw your chair closer, for not even Virgie knows the very worst, and I would not make her burden any heavier when there is no need. "

The young baronet did as he was requested, but he looked both troubled andpale, for he knew not how this story might affect his future prospects. Hewas not different from his kind in some points; he belonged to an old andhonored family; no shadow had ever tarnished their fair fame; he was proudand tenacious of honor, and his heart was heavy with apprehension as hethought that he might be about to hear some story of crime or wrong thatwould forever separate him from the woman whom he had learned to idolize. 

Mr. Abbot leaned nearer his companion, and in a low voice gave him a briefand rapid account of his life and the adverse fate that had served tobanish him to the sparsely populated mountains of Nevada. It was astrange, sad story of sin, and wrong, and shame, in which a complicationof evidence and circumstances had permitted the real offender to escapejustice and another to suffer the consequences of his crime. 

Sir William Heath never once moved or spoke during its recital, but hisfine face expressed pain, and sorrow, and sympathy throughout, and when atlength it was finished he still sat for several minutes in his chair, exhausted and panting from weariness and excitement. 

At last the young man turned to his companion, a great pity and tendernessshining in his fine, clear eyes. 

"Mr. Abbot, " he said, "you have told me one of the saddest stories that Ihave ever known, and I can find nothing but sympathy and regret for you inmy heart. You have been but the victim of an atrocious wrong--no stainrests upon your character, if there appears to be upon your name, and so Iask you again, will you give me your daughter, if I find that I have beenso fortunate as to have won her love? What you have related to me cannever make any difference in my feelings toward her, and since I shalltake her to another country, where nothing of this will ever be known orcast a shadow upon her future, as Lady Heath she will be honored andrespected, and I trust, happy. "

Tears welled up into the eyes of the invalid as he listened to the wordsof this true, earnest lover. 

"God bless you for a noble, royal hearted man!" he exclaimed, reachingforward and clasping the young baronet's hand. "Yes, I can say God blessyou now--for you have taught me to believe there is an Infinite Father andI can reverently invoke His benediction upon you. Of course I will giveyou Virgie and feel that she is richly blessed in having won such ahusband and thus I can die with not a care upon my heart. "

"You have given me the richest boon that it is in my power to crave, "returned Sir William, his face kindling with happiness. "But you need notspeak of dying. A sea voyage would prolong your life. Come with me at onceto England and to Heathdale where you shall have every comfort andattention, and the change will do you good. "

A sad smile flitted over Mr. Abbot's wan features. 

"It is too late, " he said, sorrowfully. "I shall not live through anothermonth; but my mind is at ease and it will be a restful season--the littletime that I am spared. No, I shall never leave this place, but I have arequest to make of you. "

"Tell me, and it shall be granted if it is in the power of man, " returnedSir William, eagerly. 

"I should like, if you can win Virgie's consent, to see her your wifebefore I die. It will be better for you both; then, after I am gone, youcan take her away as soon as you choose, and perhaps among new scenes andwith new ties she will not grieve so bitterly for me. "

Sir William Heath's heart leaped with joy at this proposition, thoughthere was an expression of sadness on his handsome face as he looked uponthe wreck before him, and realized how truly he had spoken. He knew thathe had very little time to live. 

"If I can win her, nothing would make me happier than to accede to yourwish, " he said, in a low, earnest tone. 

At this time, a light step was heard in the hall, and the next moment thedoor was opened, while a sweet young voice called:

"Come, papa and Mr. Heath--tea is ready; the peaches are delicious, andChi Lu has obtained, from some mysterious source, real cream to eat withthem. "

Chapter VII. 

"Will You Be My Wife?"

In spite of the exciting conversation of the last half-hour Mr. Abbotappeared more than usually cheerful during tea. He was indeed more likethe brilliant, entertaining host that he used to be in their formerbeautiful home in San Francisco, than Virgie had seen him since theirtroubles had come upon them. 

At the same, time the young girl wondered what could have occurred to maketheir guest so silent and preoccupied. It was evidently an effort for himto converse at all, while two or three times he was addressed more thanonce before he responded, but his glance whenever it met hers thrilled herstrangely, and kept a beautiful flush upon her cheeks throughout the meal. 

When it was concluded the two young people went out upon the porch to viewthe sunset, while Mr. Abbot retired to his room where he began lookingover and rearranging the papers in his desk. 

There was no need now to send that written history with its request forfatherly care for Virgie, to Lawrence Bancroft. He had not a doubt as tothe result of Sir William Heath's wooing. He was sure that Virgie lovedhim, and he was filled with a blessed content and fervent gratitude thatso bright a future was opening before his darling. 

She would go to another country where none of the old troubles could touchher, where no one would be able to point the finger of scorn at her andwhisper that her name had been branded with dishonor, and where, surrounded by her noble husband's love and care, occupying a high socialposition with every good thing that wealth could secure, her life would beone long summer of peace and happiness. 

Meantime an awkward pause had fallen between Virgie and her lover standingoutside upon the porch. 

It was broken at last by the baronet with a very trite remark:

"What a warm evening. "

"Yes, it has been a very warm day, " answered Virgie, feeling very muchinclined to laugh, for never before had they been forced to talk of theweather in order to keep up a conversation. 

"Let us go to our seat under the old pine tree, " said Sir William, andwithout waiting for her consent, he stepped down to lead the way. 

Virgie glanced at him questioningly. 

The unusual gravity which she had observed during tea still rested uponhis face and vibrated in his tones. 

She wondered at it, and yet, although she could not have told why, herheart began to beat with quickened throbs on account of it. 

Reaching their favorite nook, Sir William gently seated his companion, andthen stood looking down upon her a moment without speaking. 

Then he spoke, and there was a tenderer note in his voice than she hadever heard before. 

"Virgie, " he said, "have you ever wondered why I came here and turnedminer?"

She looked up quickly as he spoke her name thus for the first time, thenher eyes suddenly drooped beneath the look in his. 

"Yes, I have thought it a little singular that you should choose just thiswork and this locality, " she answered, in a low tone. 

"May I tell you why I came?" seating himself at her side. 

"Certainly, if you like. "

"It was because I found here the only woman whom I could ever love. Virgie, you are that woman, and my heart told me on that first eveningwhen I came to you, cold, wet, and hungry, that I must win your love or myfuture would be void and desolate. So I seized upon the first reasonablepretext I could find for remaining, and that, you know, your fatheroffered me in disposing of his claim. Sometimes I have hoped that you werelearning to love me in return; sometimes I have feared that I should notsucceed in this, the dearest object of my life. My darling, I resolvedto-night that I would put my fate to the test. Will you give yourself tome for all time, my beautiful mountain queen? Do you love me well enough, dear, to put your hand in mine and tell me that you will go with mewherever I will, as my loved and cherished wife?"

Virginia Abbot sat there, her perfect form outlined against the dark, moss-grown rock that arose, rugged and grand, behind her. The softenedlight, as it fell upon her through the boughs of the tree above her, madeher seem like some exquisite picture painted by a master-hand. Her hands, white as Parian marble, were quietly folded in her lap, but her heart wasin a tumult of joy, and her color came and went in fitful flushes. 

She knew that she deeply loved this grand man, who had come to hermountain home in the early summer time, and she felt that earth could holdno higher happiness for her than to become his wife and go with himwhithersoever he willed. But she knew, too, that her first duty lay withher father; that she must have no interests that would interfere with thecare and attention which she owed to him in his failing condition. 

"Virgie, you will not crush the sweet hope that has been taking root in myheart during these months that I have spent with you, " Sir Williampleaded, his face paling as she did not answer, and a fear smiting himthat he might have been nourishing a delusion. "I have fancied that I haveseen the love-light dawning in your eyes--oh, do not tell me that I havebeen deceiving myself. My darling, I will try to make your life verybright if you will give yourself to me. "

Virgie looked up now with a steady, unwavering glance into his eager eyes, although her face was dyed with blushes. 

"Mr. Heath, " she faltered, "you know I cannot leave my father. "

"Of course I know it, " he returned, his face lighting "I do not ask it, darling; I only ask that you will give yourself into my keeping, and thenwe will devote ourselves to him as long as he lives. Oh, my dearest"--ashe saw an answering gleam in her eyes--"you do love me!"

"Yes, I love you, " Virgie breathed, with a downcast but happy face; andthen she was gathered close to her lover's manly breast in a fond embrace. 

"My love! my love! I would serve twice seven years, as Jacob did, in thiswild region for the sake of winning that coveted confession from your dearlips. My mountain queen! and you will soon be my wife?"

But Virgie sat up suddenly at this and pushed him from her with gentleforce, a frightened look in her eyes. Oh, "what have I done? I am afraid Ihave done wrong!" she cried. 

"Wrong, dearest, in confessing that you love me!" Sir William whispered, as he tried to draw her again into his arms. 

"But you do not know--I have no right to tell you; no--no, I am afraid Iought not to be your wife, " she said, remembering, with a sense of shameand misery, the stigma resting upon her name. 

The young man regarded her anxiously for a moment; then he understood itall. 

"Virgie, " he said, "you need not fear to promise all that I ask, for Iknow what troubles you. I asked your father's sanction to my suit before Icame to you, and he told me all his sad story. But it need be no barrierto our happiness. I told him so, and he gave you to me--providing I couldwin you--with his blessing. "

Virgie lifted her face, all radiant with a sweet new joy, a sense ofexultation in her heart. 

"And you were willing----" she began, wondering at the great love thatcould thus level what she had had feared would be an insurmountablebarrier. 

"Willing, love, to make myself the happiest man on earth, " heinterrupted, in a voice that actually trembled with joy. "What Mr. Abbottold me does not affect your worth or character, nor his either, and sometime I believe the wrong will be made all right. Even were the facts moreserious than they are, they need not trouble us, for I could take you faraway from every breath of evil, and as my wife it could never touch you. So you will give yourself to me, Virgie?"

"Yes, " she answered, with grave sweetness; "if papa thinks it is right, Icannot put my cup of happiness away untasted. "

Sir William Heath bent and touched the beautiful girl's lips with hisfirst lover's kiss. 

"My beloved, " he said, "life looks to me now like one long vista ofhappiness--may it prove so to both of us. "

They sat there beneath the shadow of the great pine for more than an hour, wearing bright plans for the future, while the twilight gathered aroundthem. But as yet Sir William had not told his bethrothed who he was, norof the title awaiting her when she should become his wife. Somehow, hefelt strangely reluctant to do so. 

Once he had spoken of his home, and Virgie looked up with sudden interest, and asked:

"Where is your home, Mr. Heath?"

An amused smile played about his lips at her question

"My friends--that is those who love me---call me 'Will, ' there, " he said, significantly; "and surely, darling you need not treat me with so muchformality. Do not call me Mr. Heath any more, Virgie. "

"Please tell me where our home is to be--Will, " she said, looking up athim with a shy smile, and blushing as the newly spoken name left her lips. 

He bent and touched them fondly with his own. 

"In England, love, " he returned. 

"England!"

"Yes. Shall you regret leaving your own country?"

"No; I think I shall be glad, " Virgie answered, with a little sigh ofcontent and relief. 

Sir William looked gratified. 

"Shall I describe our home to you?" he asked, thinking that perhaps nowwould be as good a time as any to tell more about himself and what herfuture position would be. 

"Yes, do, please. "

"Well, then, imagine a large, old mansion, with many turrets and gables, its time-worn stones grown with ivy and moss, and set in the midst ofextensive grounds, with grand, beautiful trees scattered all about. Thereis a great hall in the center of the house, with spacious rooms on eitherhand. At the end of this hall is the library, with two large bay-windowsoverlooking a winding river, which is the pride and glory of the place, and where we sail, and bathe, and fish during the summer months. Over thelibrary there is a lovely suite of rooms, commanding a wide expanse ofmeadow and upland--a scene that is like a picture all the time--which willhenceforth be devoted to the use of the future lady--of Heathdale. "

"Heathdale! What a pretty name!" Virgie cried, but still unsuspicious ofthe title which would become hers when she should go with him as his wifeto England although he had almost given utterance to it, then hesitated, and substituted those last two words. 

"Yes, it is a pretty name, and, Virgie, the place is the pride of myheart. At some distance from the mansion there are the stables andkennels, where the horses and dogs abide. "

"Why, Mr. ----Why, Will, what an extensive establishment! You musthave----"

Virgie began in a tone of surprise, then stopped in confusion. 

"Well, I must have what?" he asked. 

"A great deal of money to support such a place, " she replied, flushing. 

"And is there anything very alarming about that?" he questioned, with aquiet smile. 

"No; but--I thought----"

"You thought that I could not have very much of this world's goods since Ihad come here to work a mine, " Sir William said, completing her sentence. "But, darling, all that was only a ruse; I have been working more for mywife than for gold. "

"Will!"

"Darling, it is true; that was my only reason for becoming the purchaserof your father's interest here. I saw you; I loved you; I must have somegood excuse for tarrying near you to try to win you, and now that I haveattained my object, the mine will have to be disposed of, as I have nofurther use for it. "

Virgie regarded him with astonishment. She had never suspected anythinglike this. 

"How strange, " she said, with a beautiful flush. "I have thought it almostunaccountable that a man like you should come here to remain. I haveimagined that you were an author or a student, and might be investigatingthe formation of the mountains or studying character in order to write abook, but I never dreamed of anything like this. "

Sir William laughed heartily. 

"You were making me out to be quite a lofty character truly, " he said;"and now you find your hero only a very human being after all--one who, for the sake of a beautiful woman, has been almost willing to barter hisbirthright. Have I fallen very low in your estimation, Virgie, because Iam not to become a distinguished public benefactor on account of myresearch and investigation? Has my confession shocked you very much?"

"Your confession has made me a very, very happy woman. " Virgie whispered, slipping her hand confidingly into his, her heart thrilling with a tenderpride and love that this grand man should have sacrificed so much to winher. 

"And I am exceedingly proud of this happy woman, " returned Sir William, fondly. "I shall take the loveliest bride in the world back with me whenwe go home to Heathdale. "

"Where you will be Lady Heath my Virgie. Ah, I am very thankful that mychild will occupy so proud a position in life, " said the voice of Mr. Abbot, just behind them. 

He had come out to seek them, and had approached just as Sir Williamuttered those last words. 

"Lady Heath!" exclaimed Virgie, starting up and turning a very astonishedface first upon one and then the other. "What do you mean? I do notunderstand. "

"Haven't you told her?" Mr. Abbot asked of the young man. 

Sir William shook his head, with a smile. 

"Told me what, papa?"

"That our friend here is Sir William Heath, of Heathdale, and an Englishbaronet. "

Virgie stood in wondering silence for a moment, her face flushed anddrooping, while a hundred thoughts flashed through her mind. 

Her lover a titled peer of England! This noble man, who might have chosenhis wife from the nobility of his own country, had concealed his identity, had buried himself in the wilds of Nevada, and lived like a common minersimply to win her, an humble mountain maiden. He who belonged to anhonored race, and possessed both title and wealth, had overlooked the factthat a heavy cloud enshrouded her own and her father's name, and waswilling to lift her to the proud position of his wife and the mistress ofhis beautiful home. These and many other thoughts held her speechless, andmade her tremble with something of fear that in the future he might regretit all, and wish that he had never seen her. 

"I am afraid I am not fitted--" she at length faltered. 

"In point of education, Virgie, you are fitted for the proudest positionthat could be offered you, " her father returned, with some spirit. "Allthat you need is a trifle more worldly polish, which you will readily gainas Sir William takes you into society, and I am proud to give you to him. God bless you both, my children. "

His voice broke. 

He would have been glad to go with her to the scenes of her new life, towatch her develop in a higher atmosphere and see her happiness in herproud position. But he knew it could not be; and overcome, for themoment, with the thought of the separation which must soon come, he turnedabruptly away and went feebly back to the cottage. 

Chapter VIII. 

Mr. Abbot Desires an Immediate Marriage. 

Whether it was owing to the excitement of the previous evening, or to afeeling of relief from care and anxiety upon Virgie's account which madeMr. Abbot feel that at last he might safely lay down his burdens, it wouldbe impossible to say, but he was alarmingly ill the morning after thebetrothal, and unable to rise from his bed. 

His strength seemed to have left him, and he lay weak as a child, pantingwith every breath, a deadly faintness and sinking sensation frequentlyseizing him and making him feel as if the world was rapidly slipping fromhis grasp. 

Virgie was in an agony of fear. 

She had never seen her father so ill before, and it seemed to her that hemust die if he did not soon have relief. 

"What shall I do?" she asked, in a helpless, appealing way, of SirWilliam. 

He had been summoned as soon as Mr. Abbot's condition had been discovered, and he, too, feared that the end was very near, while, being whollyunaccustomed to sickness of any kind, he felt very useless andinefficient. 

He bent and kissed his darling's pale, upturned face, and then wentswiftly out of the house. 

Presently, however, he returned with a foreign looking flask or bottle inhis hand. 

"Here is some brandy, " he said, giving it to Virgie. "Mix some of it withtwo-thirds as much water, and feed your father a teaspoonful at a timeevery few minutes until he begins to rally, and call all your courage toyour aid, dear. Meantime, I will go to the nearest telegraph station andsend a message to Virginia City for a skillful physician. "

Virgie looked up at him with quivering lips. 

"Oh, what a comfort it is to have you to help me at this time!" she said. 

He drew her into his arms and held her for a moment while she laid herlips, softly and gracefully, to his cheek, in the first voluntary caressthat she had ever given him. 

The act touched him, and told him how trustfully she relied upon him. 

"My darling, I wish I could save you from every pang, " he said, tenderly. "But I must not linger--we must have help for your father as soon aspossible. Good-by, my love, for a little while, and be sure that I willcome back just as quickly as I can. "

He went quickly out, and Virgie stole softly into her father's chamber, todo what she could for him, and her heart began to gather something of hopeand courage when a few minutes later she heard the clatter of a horse'shoofs outside, and knew that her lover was on the way for help. 

Sir William did not spare his horse until he reached the station. 

A telegram was sent and before long a reply was received saying that aphysician would leave Virginia City upon the next train coming that way. 

But several hours must elapse before he could arrive, and Sir William wasbrought up to the highest pitch of anxiety and impatience during theinterval, while to Virgie, anxiously watching and waiting by the bedsideof her father, they were the longest that she had ever known. 

But she followed Sir William's directions regarding administering thebrandy, and she could see that after a few potions the invalid began torally somewhat. 

Just as the sun was going down Sir William and the doctor arrived, andthen the young girl felt as if a mountain had rolled from her shoulders. 

They remained all night watching with the patient, insisting that Virgieshould go to her rest, and worn out with her day of watching and anxiety, she crept away to bed and slept the sleep of exhaustion. 

In the morning Mr. Abbot seemed considerably stronger and better, andVirgie's loving heart began to take courage again and to hope that he wasnot really so very ill after all. 

But these feelings received a sudden shock, when, after breakfast, herlover drew her into the little parlor, his face very grave, yet full oftenderness for her. 

"I have something that I wish to say to you, Virgie--something to askyou, " he said; "but, remember, that you are to answer me frankly andtruly. You are not to be unduly influenced by my--by any one's wishes--toconsent to what might seem premature, and thus repugnant to you. "

Virgie looked up at him questioningly, growing pale, and a thrill of fearshooting through her heart. 

"Your father feels, " Sir William went on, answering her look, "as if hewould like to--to have your future settled before--his strength fails himany further. "

"Oh!" cried the young girl, clinging to her lover, a wild look in hereyes, "papa is not going to--die! Do not tell me that. He is betterto-day, and he will--he must grow yet stronger. "

"My darling, " said Sir William, holding her close to him, and speakingwith sorrowful tenderness, "I am not going to deceive you. It would not beright for me to do so. But Dr. Waters thinks that he cannot stay with usmuch longer. He believes that he will rally for a while, but the state ofhis system warns him that it will be but a very little while. And, Virgie, your father wants us to be married at once. Darling, shall it be as hewishes?"

But Virgie hardly heard these latter sentences. 

She threw herself upon that manly breast in a wild burst of grief. 

It was a dreadful blow to be told that the die was cast, that her father'sdoom was very near. 

In an indefinite way she had been dreading it ever since he himself hadtalked so plainly about it to her, but with the buoyancy of youth she hadkept hoping against hope, and refusing to believe the fearful truth. 

Sir William held her in her fond embrace, and allowed her to weep untilher tears were spent. 

He knew that it was better to let her grief have its way. She would becalmer and stronger afterward, though every sob and tear was bitter painto his loving heart. 

She grew more quiet after a time, and at length he felt that he mightagain speak of the subject so near his heart. 

"Will you be my wife, Virgie? I would not have forced this upon you justnow but for your father's desire, and because Dr. Waters, who must returnto-day to his own duties, can make all necessary arrangements for us uponhis arrival in Virginia City. 

"A clergyman must be sent to us, and there are some other matters which Iwish attended to, so we must decide now. Still, my darling, if you shrinkfrom this step, if the thought of it shocks you, I will not urge it, Iwill wait until you are quite ready for it. "

"Did papa propose it?" Virgie asked, hiding her flushed face from thoseeager, loving eyes looking down upon her. 

"Yes. I should not have presumed to suggest anything of the kind at such atime, " returned the young baronet, gravely. "But he thinks that his mindwould be easier if he could see you my wife. He wishes to give you awayirrevocably while he is able. Then, dear, I could be with you all the timeto help you in your care of him, to relieve you of much that wouldencroach upon your strength. Tell me freely, Virgie, shall it or shall itnot be?"

"Do you really wish it? or--are you only yielding to his desire?" sheasked, in a low voice. 

He gathered her closer to his breast until she could feel the eagerthrobbing of his great heart. 

"The day that makes you my wife will be the most blessed of all my life;though, for your sake. I could wish our bridal to be celebrated under lesssorrowful circumstances Still it must not be as I wish. You must decidethe question, " he said, gravely. 

There was a long pause. Then Virgie said, quietly:

"I am willing. "

"Is that all, love? Are you simply willing to do as your father requests?Shall you not be glad to be my wife?" Sin William questioned, with aslight accent of pain. 

"Yes, Will, I shall be glad; but, oh, my father! my father!" she cried, with a fresh burst of grief, as she realized all that this hurriedmarriage meant. 

He kissed her forehead softly, and breathed:

"Heaven bless you, my beloved, and help me to make your future as happyas you have made me to-day. "

He made her lie down upon the lounge, for she was nearly exhausted withher grief. He arranged her pillow, drew down the curtains to soften thelight, and then went quietly out of the room. 

When he came back an hour later he found her calm, though with a saddenedgravity upon her that made his heart ache. 

He told her that Dr. Waters had gone back to Virginia City, but that theyhad arranged for a clergyman to come to them to spend the followingSabbath, when Mr. Abbot desired the marriage to take place. 

Virgie was strangely thrilled by this intelligence. It was Tuesday, and infive days more she would be Sir William Heath's wife! It all seemed like adream to her. 

On Saturday afternoon an elderly and venerable-appearing gentleman madehis appearance before Mr. Abbots door. 

He came in a strong mountain wagon drawn by a pair of handsome horses, andwith him there was a large trunk--which Sir William ordered carried upstairs into Virgie's room--and two or three hampers, that were given toChi Lu to be taken care of. 

Virgie turned a wondering, inquiring look upon her lover at theseproceedings, but he only answered by a quiet smile, and then introducedher to the Rev. Dr. Thornton. 

The young bride-elect received him with the charming ease andself-possession that was natural to her, at which the stranger could notrefrain from regarding her with a look of mingled wonder and admiration. 

When told of the errand upon which he was to go, he had consented for thesake of the dying man; but he had expected to find a very rustic couplein this rough region, and he was wholly taken aback to meet a polishedgentleman like Mr. Heath--as he was still known except to Virgie and herfather--and such an interesting and lovely woman as his young hostessappeared to be. 

The clergyman spent an hour with the invalid after tea, and he was no lessmystified and astonished regarding him. He realized that he was in ahousehold of more than ordinary culture and refinement, and he was surethat there must be some strange history connected with their lives. 

When Virgie went to bid her father good-night before going to her rest, hedrew her down to him and looked tenderly and wistfully into her face. 

"My daughter, " he questioned, "you have no shrinking no misgivingsregarding the step that you are about to take?"

"None, papa, " she said, softly. 

"And are you happy in the prospect of becoming Sir William's wife? Tell metruly, my child. "

"As happy as I can be while you are so ill, papa, " Virgie answered, withstarting tears. 

"Then I am at peace. God bless you, my darling, and may your life havemuch of sunshine in it. I give you without fear into Will's care, for Ibelieve him to be one of nature's noblemen. And now, " taking a packagefrom beneath his pillow, here is your marriage dowry; it is all yours, Virgie, to do with as you will, and Sir William has promised to settle asmuch more upon you, which he will tell you about later. You have been adear, good daughter to me, and I am very happy regarding your future; Icould not ask or wish anything better for you. "

"Oh, papa, if I could only have you well again!" Virgie whispered, hidingher tearful eyes upon his pillow. 

An expression of pain flitted over the sick man's face. 

"We will not think of that now, " he said, gently; "and you must not giveway to grief, for it will unnerve us both, and I do not wish to see a paleor sorrowful bride to-morrow. Now good-night, love, and try to get all therest that you can. "

He kissed her again, and was about to let her go, when he caught her hand, saying, with something of eagerness:

"But, by the way, Virgie, what will you wear to be married in?"

The young girl flushed, and her lips trembled. 

"Oh papa, I have hardly given a thought to that, my heart has been soheavy for you, " she murmured, brokenly. Then she added, after a moment ofthought: "I have my pretty silk that you sent to San Francisco for in thespring, and I wondered when I should ever wear it here, you know. It willdo, will it not?"

Mr. Abbot sighed. 

"I suppose it will have to, since it is the best you have. I should liketo have you married in something white, dear; but make yourself look asnicely as you can, " he said in an unsteady voice. 

Virgie dropped a light kiss upon his forehead, and then went out, herheart heavy in spite of the great love which she bore the man whose wifeshe was to become on the morrow, and the bright hopes which the futureheld for her in spite of the shadow of death which was every momentdrawing nearer. 

Chapter IX. 

Virgie's Wedding-Day

As Virgie passed out of her father's room, Sir William captured her. 

"I am not going to keep you from your rest, " he said, after caressing herfondly, "but I wanted to tell you that I have been feeling a triflejealous regarding the appearance of the future Lady Heath upon herwedding-day, and you will find everything that you will need for to-morrowin a trunk, which I have had carried up into your room. "

Virgie lifted her head from his breast, and regarded him questioningly. 

"I sent an order by Dr. Waters, " he explained, "to the best dressmakerthat he could find in Virginia City, to provide a simple yet appropriateoutfit for a bride, and you will find the best that could be obtained atso short a notice, awaiting your approval up stairs. "

"How kind, how thoughtful you are!" Virgie murmured gratefully, and with aflush of pleasure. "Papa will be so pleased. He was just lamenting that Iwas not properly provided for. "

"Then it will be a gratifying surprise when he sees you to-morrow, " SirWilliam returned. 

"Indeed it will. How can I think you? Perhaps I have been very remiss, but, truly, I had not given a thought to my dress, " Virgie confessed, withsome confusion. 

"How could you, dear, with your heart so full of other things?" SirWilliam replied, tenderly; "and I want no thanks other than to see youlooking like a bride, " he concluded, smiling. "I did this chiefly togratify my own pride in my love. "

He led her to the foot of the stairs, and then, with a lingering clasp, let her go. 

It was quite late, and Virgie thought that she would only allow herself apeep into the mysterious trunk that night; but she resolved that she wouldrise very early in the morning and lay out everything in readiness for thewedding. 

She wondered how Sir William could have managed it all, and was somewhatanxious regarding the fit of her bridal dress; but she was set at restupon that point when she lifted the lid of the trunk and found a waist ofone of her own dresses lying upon the top of various packages, and sheknew that he had sent it as a measure and guide. 

Everything else was wrapped in fine packing paper, and she concluded notto open anything until morning, although her curiosity was greatlyexcited. 

She knelt and prayed long and fervently, for she felt very solemn in viewof the important event that was to occur on the morrow. 

Then she retired, and was soon sleeping peacefully and restfully, as onlythe pure and innocent can sleep. 

But when the first rays of the sun streamed in at her window in themorning, she arose, and, after putting her room in perfect order, sheopened the precious trunk and began to remove and undo the packages storedtherein. 

First, there was a long, flat box. 

Opening it, she found a misty and ample veil of finest tulle, simplyhemmed with a heavy thread of silk. 

Then there was another smaller but deeper box, which contained a lovelywreath of pure white heath, with bouquets of the same mingled with liliesof the valley, for the corsage of her dress. 

Still another, in which there was a pair of shining white satin boots, silken hose, and kid gloves, with a dainty handkerchief, fine and sheer asa cobweb. 

Last, but not least, incased in several wrappings of soft white paper wasthe wedding-dress. 

Virgie's face paled and flushed many times while she was undoing this, formany hopes were centered in it, and tears rose unbidden to her eyes whenat last it was laid out on the bed before her. 

She had seen nothing one-half so lovely for years--not since she used towatch her mother dress for gay receptions and parties in the happy days solong ago. 

It was of the finest India mull, very simply yet beautifully made, over anunderskirt of plain white silk--an airy, gauzy thing, just suited for ayouthful bride. 

"How kind! how thoughtful!" the young girl breathed, as her glance ranover the different articles comprising her toilet. "He has not forgotten asingle thing, and it is all so delicate and beautiful. This wreath ofheath--how suggestive! and nothing could be prettier. 

"Oh papa! I am glad you will have your wish, for it may be the very lastone that can be gratified, " she concluded, with a long sigh. 

Had it not been for her father's condition, she would have been supremelyhappy on that bright morning. Even as it was, her heart was overflowingwith love and gratitude toward her devoted lover for his kindconsideration and generosity. 

She went below at her usual hour to attend to her regular duties, whichshe performed in her customary quiet way, helping her father to rise anddress, arranging the rooms in the nicest order, and then serving breakfastto the invalid and their reverend guest. 

Sir William was nowhere visible. He had spent the night with Mr. Abbot, and when morning broke he went away to his own cabin, where he remaineduntil the hour for the ceremony. 

The house was very quiet; there was no excitment, no bustle. Chi Lu alonebetrayed any consciousness that an unusual event was to take place, andthis only by a slight nervousness of manner and the restless flash of hisdusky eyes. 

After breakfast Virgie saw that her father was made comfortable in hisreclining-chair in the parlor, and then giving him one last, lingeringkiss, she turned to go up to her chamber to dress for her bridal. 

Just then there came a knock on the outer door. Chi Lu was called toanswer it, and he brought to Virgie a huge basket laden with the loveliestof mountain ferns and flowers, the dew still glistening upon them. 

They were the offering of some of the miners "for Miss Abbot's wedding, "the boy who brought them said. 

It had become known in some way that Mr. Abbot was failing rapidly, andhad requested that his daughter might be married before his death. 

He was much respected in the hamlet, for he had always been the courteousgentleman, while Virgie was regarded almost in the light of a youngprincess, and thus these humble people were prompted to show theirsympathy and good will in this delicate manner. 

The young bride-elect was touched to the heart by this tribute, and withher own hands arranged the lovely flowers to furnish the room where shewas to be married. 

Then she went up stairs, and was seen no more until the hour set for theceremony, which was eleven o'clock. 

Meanwhile Chi Lu and an elderly woman, who had once been very kind toVirgie when she was ill, and had been asked to "come and help for theday, " were very busily engaged in the small kitchen, arranging a repastwhich was to be served later in the day. 

Sir William was determined that the occasion should be made as cheerful ascircumstances would allow, and had ordered from the city every delicacywhich his fertile brain could suggest, and thus a "wedding breakfast, "such as had never been known in that region before, was in process ofpreparation. 

At eleven o'clock the happy groom made his appearance and sent MargeryFollet, the woman before mentioned, to Virgie's door to say that he wasready and awaiting her. 

To her tap Virgie gently responded "come in, " and a low cry of delightescaped the humble woman's lips as she opened the door, and then stoodtransfixed upon the threshold. 

Virgie turned a smiling face to her. "Why, Margery, how came you here?"she asked. 

"The gent sent for me to come and help. "

"That was thoughtful in him, and it was kind of you to come, " Virgiereturned, graciously. 

"It's a boon to me, miss. You look like an angel, and I shall neverforget this day, " said the woman, regarding her almost with reverence. 

Virgie felt all the happier for being able to contribute this pleasure toone so unused to pleasure of any kind, and she increased it tenfold byasking her to assist her in fastening the last button of one of hergloves. 

"Yes, I'm ready, " Virgie replied, as, with a vivid, conscious flush, sheturned away, after one last look in her mirror, and truly she was a visionto cheer the heart of the fondest bridegroom. 

Her dress proved to be a perfect fit, and the delicate fabric fell insoft, graceful folds over the lustrous white of her silken skirt, whileshe was covered from head to foot by the mist-like veil. 

The wreath of heath lay lightly upon her brown head, and, with thebeautiful bouquet upon her breast, made a pleasing contrast with theotherwise spotless costume. 

Her figure looked almost regal in her trailing robe, and she was simplyperfect from crown to sole. 

"Yes, " she repeated, as the woman seemed unable to take her eyes from her, "you may tell Mr. Heath that I am ready, " and as Margery went out, shebowed her head in prayer for a blessing on her new life. 

The next moment she heard Sir William's step on the stairs, and she wentout to meet him. 

How his face lighted as he looked upon her! How his heart throbbed withexultation as he thought:

"This peerless girl is mine! Heathdale has never known a mistress sofair!"

He was clad, as became a gentleman, in a dress suit of simple black, fineand rich, a single diamond of purest water gleaming just beneath hiswhite satin tie, and his hands were incased in spotless gloves. 

"My darling, " he whispered, as he took Virgie's right hand and laid it onhis arm, "how beautiful you are!"

She could not make him any reply--the moment was too solemn for words--butshe lifted her eyes to his for an instant, and they were filled with loveand trust. 

Then they went below. 

Very quietly they took their places in the little parlor, where theclergyman awaited them, and where Mr. Abbot, after one surprised, delighted glance at his daughter, lay back in his chair, with a smile ofsupreme content upon his lips. 

He understood at once who had so delicately and so fittingly arrangedeverything for the fair bride, and it was such a comfort to him to haveVirgie properly arrayed for her marriage. 

Chi Lu and Margery stood one on either side of the door, just inside theroom, according to Sir William's desire, for there must be witnesses, andthus the group was complete. 

Rev. Dr. Thornton approached the young couple, and in an easy andimpressive, yet graceful manner, performed the marriage service, and thosefew moments were very solemn ones to three at least of those present. Butthe ceremony was soon over, and the maiden was now a wife--Virgie Abbothad become Virginia, Lady Heath. 

Sir William had not, however, allowed his title to be used, as he shrankfrom the notoriety which the knowledge of his position and wealth wouldcreate among the settlers of that region. He had come there in anunpretentious way, and he wished to leave as quietly. There would be timeenough, he thought, to resume his honors when he and his bride should goout into the world. 

When the benediction had been pronounced over the clasped hands of thehusband and wife, Dr. Thornton offered his congratulations, and then SirWilliam led Virgie directly to her father. 

She sank upon her knees beside his chair, and putting her arms around hisneck, gave and received a tender caress. 

"God bless you always, my daughter!" the sick man murmured, in tremblingtones. "I believe I am guilty of no irreverence in invoking His blessing, "he added, "for I have learned to feel my need of faith in Him, and, Virgie, your husband has taught me how to seek it. "

The young bride could only press her lips again to his in reply. She wasvery grateful for this confession, for her father's previous skepticismand bitterness had often caused her much sorrow. 

Chi Lu and Margery came forward to congratulate the bride and groom, andthen went about their duties in the other room. 

Soon after, Dr. Thornton slipped quietly away, thus leaving the invalidand his children by themselves. 

"Virgie, how beautiful you are to-day! How did it happen?" Mr. Abbotasked, when he found they were alone, and glancing admiringly over hercostume. 

"It was all Mr. --all Will's doing, " she answered, with a charming blush, and glancing shyly up into her husband's face. 

"I suspected as much, and I thank you, Sir William, more than I canexpress, for giving me this unexpected pleasure, " said the sick man, gratefully. 

"It was to gratify myself as well. I could not be satisfied unless LadyHeath was arrayed as became a bride of the house, " the young baronetreturned, with a fond smile, as he noticed how the color came and went onVirgie's cheek at the sound of her new name. "But, " he added, putting hisarm around her, and raising her to her feet, while with one sweep of hishand he threw back the veil, "I have not yet had the privilege of salutingmy wife. Virgie, I have the right to the first kiss from your sweet lips. "

The beautiful bride lifted her face to him, flushed with a new, almostholy, happiness. 

"My husband!" she whispered, as he held her close for a moment, and hefelt that henceforth his life would be complete, since she loved him, andwas his. 

Alas, for the weary years that were to follow!

Was there no one to warn?

For a little while they fell into a quiet chat, and then Chi Lu came tobid them to the other room, where a really elegant feast awaited them, andwhere Sir William exerted himself to make the occasion as merry aspossible, and all through the day nothing occurred to mar its peace andjoy. 

The next morning Dr. Thornton returned to Virginia City, carrying in hispocket a much larger fee than he was accustomed to receive; and afterthat, life at the mountain cottage resumed its usual quiet routine. 

Chapter X. 

A Separation and a Little Stranger. 

Mr. Abbot appeared to gather new strength after the events related in theprevious chapter, in spite of his own predictions and the fears of othersthat he was dying. 

The mild September weather and the quiet happiness which pervaded his homeseemed to have a beneficial effect upon him. But as the weather grewcolder, as the chill October winds began to sweep over the mountains, adecided change came. Just as daylight was fading one evening, and the dullgray of a coming storm began to settle down upon the mountains, hebreathed his last, peacefully, quietly and willingly, and thus all earthlysorrow was at an end for him; he had gone where all wrongs would berighted, where mystery or shame would no longer envelop him. 

They buried him, as he desired, beneath the great plumy pine tree thatgrew near their cottage, and where Virgie's great happiness had come toher, and then Sir William felt that he had a right to take his wife awayto a more congenial atmosphere. 

He had disposed of his claim some time before, for since he had no longerany need of an excuse for remaining there, he had given up all pretense ofbusiness and devoted himself exclusively to the care of the invalid and tomaking Virgie's duties as light as possible. 

The cottage and its furniture were sold; Chi Lu was presented with SirWilliam's own neat little cabin with all its contents, besides beingotherwise handsomely remunerated for all his kindness and faithfulness andthen the baronet took his bride directly to San Francisco, which theydecided to make their headquarters for the winter, intending early in thespring to sail for England. 

Sir William had written home long before this of his marriage. But thenews had not been cordially received by the members of his household. 

His stately mother had replied in a brief, dignified manner, which did notfail to convey her displeasure at the step he had taken, while his widowedsister, who, with her two children, were greatly dependent on her brother, did not hesitate to express her indignation at his rashness andinconsideration of their feelings, at least, in marrying so "out of hisown element. "

The young baronet, of course, kept all this to himself. He had known wellenough that his marriage would be displeasing to his family, who had longhad other views for him, but he trusted that, when he should present hisbride to them, every objection would disappear like dew before the sun, and she would be received with open arms and be loved for her own sweetsake. 

At all events he was his own master, and he was not a man to tamely submitto unreasonable prejudices; and if his mother and sister refused toreceive his wife with becoming courtesy and respect, as the mistress ofHeathdale, it would only be the worse for them. 

He did not begin to suspect, however, the bitterness which theyexperienced when they received the startling information that he hadmarried a girl from the wilds of the far West. His union had followed soclosely upon his betrothal that he had no opportunity to communicate plansbeforehand, and thus the news had fallen like a thunderbolt upon them. 

"He has ruined his life!" cried Lady Linton, his sister, in a white rage, after reading the letter. "To think of it!--he has married a perfectsavage from the wilds of America! A pretty mistress for dear oldHeathdale, truly. I will never receive her, <i>never!</i>"

"You know what William is, Miriam, and it will not be wise for you tooffend him. He will never tolerate any display of arrogance or discourtesyto his wife, " returned the dowager Lady Heath, more quietly, yet lookingthe picture of despair over the <i>mesalliance</i>. 

"I cannot help it; it is an abominable insult to all his friends, andnever to tell us anything about it until the die was cast!"

"But he explains why he could not; the marriage was hastened on account ofthe father's critical condition replied Lady Heath. 

"Oh, I believe it was all a cunning plan to entrap him and secure the girla title and position, " groaned Lady Linton. "How will Sadie feel; what<i>will</i> she say?"

"I do not know as she has any right to say anything, " answered the dowager, with some dignity, for she loved her son and could not bear to have anyone assail him, no matter how much she might blame him herself. "Williamhas never committed himself to her in any way; that plan has been moreours than his. "

She was fully as unreconciled as her daughter; still she was capable oflooking at matters as they really were. 

"Oh, I cannot have it so, mamma; do not let us say anything about theaffair at present, " pleaded her daughter. "William says it will be sometime before he returns, as he wishes to show his wife something of theworld first. Doubtless, " she continued, with increasing bitterness, "hedesires to polish off some of the rough edges before he presents her tous; so let us suppress the fact of his marriage until the time is set fortheir coming; it will be hard enough even then to acknowledge the plebeianunion. "

Lady Heath demurred at first at this proposal, but she finally yielded thepoint, and nothing was said regarding the baronet's sudden marriage, andthis was the beginning of a plot to ruin the life of a beautiful youngwife, and to bring years of misery upon a noble man. 

 * * * * *

Virgie found it very pleasant in some respects, though sad in others, toreturn to San Francisco, her former home. 

She had left the city nearly six years ago, when she was an undevelopedgirl; she returned to it in the full glory of beautiful womanhood, andowing to her many changes which had occurred there, as well as in her ownpersonal appearance and position, no one appeared to recognize her as thedaughter of the unfortunate man who had figured so conspicuously in aterrible scandal there, and then suddenly disappeared covering his tracksso successfully that no one, either friend or foe, knew whither he hadgone. 

The young wife was very happy in spite of her recent bereavement; herhusband was kindness and nobility personified, and left nothing undonethat could contribute in any degree to her pleasure, or prevent her frombrooding upon her father's death. 

They had a cozy and elegant suite of rooms at the Baldwin Hotel, which SirWilliam had engaged for the winter, and from this point they made manyexcursions sometimes being away several weeks at a time, traveling, thenreturning to rest, after which they would start afresh again. 

The fond husband was determined that Virgie should see everything that wasworth seeing in her own country before he took her to their home inEngland. 

They frequented the opera and theater, attended concerts and lectures, andSir William was both surprised and delighted to notice how readily Virgieadapted herself to the requirements of society and etiquette, notwithstanding the seclusion of the last half-dozen years. 

About the middle of March they started for the East, intending to take thetrip leisurely and visit points of interest along their route. 

They arrived in New York early in May, and were intending to sail forEngland the last of the month. 

But Virgie, although not really ill, was far from well when they reachedthe great metropolis, and her husband insisted that she must have medicaladvice. 

He called in a skillful physician, who, upon being told what their planswere, immediately and emphatically vetoed further travel for the present. 

"It will be simply impossible for Mrs. Heath to undertake a sea voyage atpresent, " he asserted. 

"But the trip occupies eight days--" Sir William began. 

"If it occupied only three it would make no difference it will not be safefor her to attempt to cross the ocean under three months, " Dr. Knox said, with an air of decision which admitted of no further argument. 

Sir William was disappointed, yet he was too fond and careful of hisbeautiful wife to rebel against this verdict. 

A week or two passed and Virgie appeared to be improving, when, onemorning, there came a cablegram from Heathdale, announcing that thedowager Lady Heath was alarmingly ill, and imploring the baronet'simmediate return if he desired to see her alive. 

The message threw the young husband into a distressing state of mind. 

It seemed like harshest cruelty to obey the summons and leave his wifealone in that strange city. And yet the alternative of remaining andallowing his mother to die without seeing him once more, seemed almostequally unkind. 

He sought Dr. Knox again in his extremity and explained his desperatesituation. 

"I could not answer for the consequences if you take your wife; it will bea fearful risk for Mrs. Heath to go. She <i>might</i> endure the voyage safely, but the probabilities are that she would not, " the physician gravely toldhim. "But, " he added, kindly, "I sympathize with you--I appreciate yourdilemma, and, if <i>you</i> must go, I advise you to leave her in my charge andI promise faithfully to give her every attention during your enforcedabsence. "

This seemed the only thing to be done and Sir William finally decided toreturn to his home alone. 

Virgie herself urged him to go, though her heart was almost breaking atthe thought of the separation, for it <i>might</i> be that she would never seehim again. 

Still she was brave--she put aside her own feelings out of regard for theduty which he owed his mother, and there was a possibility that he couldreturn to her in the course of two or three weeks. 

"Do not feel unduly anxious for me, Will, " she said to him, on the eveningbefore he was to sail, "I know that Dr. Knox will do all for me that youcan wish. I will either write or send some message to you by everysteamer, and I am going to trust that everything will be well. "

"But it is agony to me to leave you--oh! my darling, if your heart failsyou in the least, if you say you prefer to have me stay, I will not goeven now, " he said, his own courage failing him and having more than halfa mind to renounce his intended voyage even at that late hour. 

"No, dear, I know that it is your duty to go, " Virgie answered, gently. "Ishould never forgive myself, if your mother should die, for keeping youfrom her at such a time. "

"But if--I should lose you, too, " he was going to say, but checked himselfand concluded, "but if you should be neglected and unhappy?"

"I shall not be, Will; you have provided against the former contingencymost generously, and the latter I can regulate myself. I will not beunhappy, for I know that you are doing right and that you will return tome the moment that you are at liberty to do so. "

"Indeed I shall, " he answered, as he gathered her close to his breast andrained passionate kisses upon her lovely face. 

But his heart was very heavy notwithstanding her apparent cheerfulness. 

A superstitious dread seemed to have seized him, warning him that somefearful calamity would follow this separation. He was not given to suchunreasonable imaginings, and he reproached himself for indulging in them;but he could not shake them off nevertheless. 

Morning came and with it the hour of departure and the last farewells. 

Virgie wore a brave and even smiling face through all. She had resolvedthat she would not unman him at the last moment. 

She watched at her window until he drove away, waving her handkerchief andthrowing him a kiss as he passed from sight, then the pent-up grief of herheart found vent in a wild burst of tears such as she had not shed sincethe hour of her father's death. 

But she would not indulge it long. 

She had every comfort. Her rooms were cheerful and elegant; a motherly, middle-aged woman had been engaged to remain with her as companion andnurse during her husband's absence; she had an abundance of money at hercommand, and Dr. Knox had promised to look in upon her every day. Surelyshe had nothing to complain of, save the enforced separation from her dearone, and that would not be for long, she trusted. 

The ninth day after the departure of Sir William there came a cablegram, telling of his safe arrival at Liverpool, and this, at his request, sheimmediately responded to, telling him that all was well with her. 

The next steamer, she knew, would bring her a letter and after that shewould hear from him every few days. 

Sir William found his mother alive, but in a very low state; "she mightrally, she might not, " they told him; and, with a sigh of resignation, hecould only wait and try to patiently adapt himself to circumstances. 

Thus four weeks went by, and then, early one June morning, a message wentflying through the depths of the ocean, telling that a tiny little maiden, with eyes and hair like her father's, but bidding fair to become thecounterpart of her mother in form and features had come to Virgie themorning previous, and "all was well. "

The fervent "thank God!" accompanied with something very like a sob, whichburst from Sir William Heath's lips as he read this message, told howintense had been his anxiety during the weeks of his absence from hisdarling, and how great his relief at those favorable tidings. 

He returned a message of love and congratulation, and when, a littlelater, there came a letter to the happy young mother, it begged that theirlittle one should be called "Virgie May, " the latter name being that of adear sister of whom Sir Will had been very fond, and who had died severalyears previous. 

And thus the little heiress of Heathdale was christened by her mother. 

Chapter XI. 

"You Have Overstepped All Bounds. "

Sir William Heath could hardly control his impatience to fly to his dearones across the water. 

His fond heart yearned mightily to behold his child and to clasp once morethe beautiful wife who had now become dearer than ever to him. 

But his mother's condition did not improve; she still lay hovering betweenlife and death, and he knew that he must not leave her until there wassome change either for the better or worse. 

Her disease was partial paralysis, which, however, had not affected herbrain, and her son's return and presence appeared to be of the greatestcomfort to her. 

Still she was liable, at any hour, to have another shock, which woulddoubtless prove fatal, and Sir Herbert Randal--an eminent Londonphysician--commanded perfect quiet and freedom from all excitement, sincethe least anxiety or disturbance of any kind would bring the dreadmessenger which they all feared so much. 

Thus it seemed as if the young baronet was hopelessly bound to Heathdalefor the present. 

Not a word had passed between him and his mother regarding his marriage. Knowing how displeased she had been at the time of it, and fearing toexcite her if he recalled the event to her mind, he had thought it best tosay nothing, but leave her to broach the subject whenever she should feelinclined, although he wondered that she did not make some inquiryregarding his young wife whom the family had expected he would bring withhim to Heathdale. 

The meeting with his sister had been somewhat cold and formal, for hecould not forget how harshly she had expressed herself regarding hischoice, while she could not and would not forgive him for disappointingall her ambitious hopes for him. 

Like his mother, she ignored the subject of his marriage not deigning tomake the slightest inquiry regarding his wife, although she had beengreatly astonished at the non-appearance of Virgie, and was burning withcuriosity to know why he had returned alone. 

This negligence and obstinacy on her part made Sir William very indignant, and after the first excitement consequent upon his arrival had subsided, he determined to assert himself, and have it distinctly understood thathis wife was henceforth to be recognized as a member of and a power in hishousehold. 

Therefore, the morning following his return he had drawn Lady Linton intothe library, and after conducting her, with something of formalpoliteness, to a seat, remarked:

"Miriam, you have not yet done me the honor to inquire after Lady Heath. "

Lady Linton bowed coldly, and lifted her fine eyebrows questioningly. 

Sir William flushed angrily. 

"It is evident that you are still very angry with me, and intend to annoyme upon this point, " he continued, sternly, "and we may as well understandeach other at the outset. I shall demand and expect that my wife when Ibring her home, will be received with all the honor and courtesy which hasever been accorded to the mistress of Heathdale in the past. "

Again Lady Linton bowed; but she did not deign to open her lips inresponse, although a spot of vivid red settled in either cheek. 

"She is worthy of it in every respect, " her brother resumed a gleam offire in his eye, "and will grace the position which I have given her aswell as the most noted London belle could do. I have pictures of herhere--perhaps you will do me the favor to look at them. "

He laid two or three fine photographs of Virgie, taken in differentattitudes, before her, as he concluded, and then leaned back in his chairwatching her attentively to see what effect that beautiful face would haveupon her. 

Her ladyship adjusted her eyeglasses with English precision, and taking upone of the pictures regarded it with all the indifference which she couldmuster. She was not, however, quite prepared for what she saw; and thequick, curious, half-admiring gleam which shot into her eye told that shehad not failed to acknowledge the exceeding loveliness of that fair face, and the natural grace and dignity displayed in the young wife's attitude. 

She took up each picture separately, and her brother could see herindifference gradually melting away, a keen and critical look taking itsplace. 

"Who was she?" she at length condescended to ask, though somewhat curtly. 

"The daughter of a California gentleman, " Sir William answered, quietly. 

"A California <i>gentleman!</i>" with a scornful accent upon the last word. "You speak of him as of an equal. "

"Certainly, " returned the baronet, a smile of amusement slightly curlinghis lips, "Mr. Abbot was my equal, if not my superior, in point ofintellect, and all that goes to make a gentleman, while his daughter isin no wise my inferior. "

"How can you make such an absurd statement, William?" demanded his sister, impatiently. "The idea of an American plebeian being the equal of a Heathof Heathdale!"

Sir William laughed outright; then he said:

"Your loyalty to your family does you credit, Miriam, but I imagine, ifyou should ever visit America--which I trust for your own sake, you willdo some time--that you will return much wiser than you went. Your ideasregarding people and things, in that grand republic are very crude andincorrect. But how do you like the face that I have shown you?"

"The face is well enough, " Lady Linton was forced to admit. 

There is nothing weak about it?"

"N-o. "

"It is not lacking in intelligence or character?"

"Not so far as I am able to judge from a simple picture", the womanconfessed, rather reluctantly. 

"And yet it does not flatter her; you do not often see a face like thateven among the noble families of England, and she is as lovely in mind asin person, " said Sir William, fondly, as he took up one of the photographsand gazed upon it with his heart in his eyes. 

"Humph! if you are so proud of your American bride, why did you not bringher home with you?" Lady Linton inquired, in a mocking tone, and thencould have bitten her tongue through for having allowed herself to betrayher curiosity so far. 

Sir William flushed hotly. It was evident that his sister was no morereconciled since seeing Virgie's pictures than before. Her pride of birthhad received a shock which she could neither overlook nor forgive. 

"Lady Heath was not able to travel. Her physician told me that if shecrossed the ocean it would be at the risk of her life. Miriam, Virgie willsoon become a mother, God willing. "

Lady Linton started and shot a swift look of astonishment at her brotherupon this unexpected announcement. 

This information was disagreeable in the extreme, for it made certainplans, which her fertile brain had begun to weave as soon as she hadlearned that her brother had returned without his wife, all the morecomplicated, if not well-nigh impossible. 

"It was a great trial for me to return without her, " Sir William went on, with a regretful sigh, "but your summons was so very imperative that Ifelt obliged to do so. My darling bore it very bravely, however; sheregarded it as my duty to hasten to my mother, even though she would beleft alone, a stranger in a great city, and at such a critical time. "

"Of course it was your duty to return to our mother, " Lady Lintonresponded emphatically, as if the young wife away upon the other side ofthe Atlantic was not worthy of consideration. "And, " she added, flashing alook of defiance at her companion, "I am free to confess to a feeling ofrelief that you had to come alone--"

"Miriam, I--"

"Hear me out, if you please, " she interposed. "Mamma's heart has beennearly broken at the thought of this ill-assorted marriage, and I believethe excitement and grief would have killed her outright, if you hadbrought her, " with a withering glance at Virgie's picture, "to Heathdaleto reign as mistress. "

Sir William was tried almost beyond endurance. It was more than a minutebefore he could control himself sufficiently to speak, after his sister'sinsulting remarks regarding his marriage. 

"Miriam, " he at length said, in a voice that made her quail in spite ofher effrontery, "you will please never speak like this again; it is, bothto my wife and me, an insult which I will not tolerate. Virgie is a ladyin every sense of the word; even my critical mother could pick no flaw inher were she to see her, and the moment that I am at liberty to do so Ishall return to the United States and bring my darling back with me. Andlet me here repeat what I said a while ago--I expect and demand that shebe received with all proper respect by the entire household. "

"The household knows nothing of your marriage. "

"What!" cried the young baronet, astonished. 

"No one, save mamma and I, knows anything of this--this alliance. "

"By whose authority have you kept such a matter secret?" Sir Williamdemanded, in great wrath. 

"We--we thought it best, " faltered his sister, shrinking beneath hisanger--she had never seen him so aroused before. "Mamma was so unhappy, and I was so--so unreconciled, that we determined to wait until you wrotedefinitely regarding your coming. "

"You have overstepped all bounds, you have presumed beyond excuse, "retorted her brother, in a voice of thunder. "I know that you are mysenior by fifteen years, and as a boy I was taught to look up to you, andto render you the respect due an elder. But I am a child no longer. I am aman, and you forget that I am not only my own master, but the master ofHeathdale as well. I have a right to choose for myself in all matters, andyou are not to consider that I am in leading strings, as I was beforeyour marriage, when you exercised, to a certain extent, authority overme. And now if--I abhor thrifts, but I wish you to distinctly understandme--if you cannot bring yourself to regard my marriage in a proper andsensible light, and make up your mind to receive my wife as becomes asister of the house, the doors of Heathdale will henceforth be closed toyou. "

Lady Linton was astounded at this outburst. 

Her brother, heretofore, had always been a pattern of amiability andgentleness, and had allowed her to have her own way mostly in the house. In minor matters she had always ruled him, and she had never imagined thathe could rise to such a height as this. 

She saw that she had gone too far, that she must change her tactics, orforever lose all influence with him, and make an enemy of him. 

She could ill afford to do this for several reasons. 

She was the widow of Lord Percival Linton, who had married her chiefly forher large dowry. 

He had been a fast, unprincipled man, who had run through his own propertyand most of hers before death put an end to his mad career. 

They had one son, Percy, and a daughter, Lillian, and Lady Linton, withher two children, had been largely dependent upon the generosity of herbrother ever since her husband's death, and he was even now bearing allthe expense of the education of his nephew and niece. 

They had made their home chiefly at Heathdale, because Lady Linton's pridecould not tolerate life at Linton Grange when they had no means to keep itup in proper style, and it was very pleasant and comfortable to be in herbrother's home, where there was abundance of everything, and where she hadbeen allowed to manage the household in her own way. 

It would therefore be very mortifying to have its hospitable doors closedagainst her, and, finding herself liable to be ignominiously checkmated ifshe persisted in her present course, she resolved to "right about face"with the greatest grace possible, at least until she was obliged to yieldher position to the future mistress of Heathdale. 

"Fie, William, don't allow yourself to get in such a passion, " she said, in a conciliatory tone. "Perhaps I have expressed myself more freely thanI ought, but you ought to make allowance for our great disappointment. Remember that you are the pride of an old and honored family, and it isbut natural that we should wish you to marry in your own station. But donot fear. When Lady Heath comes to take her place as mistress here sheshall be received in a becoming manner. "

Her ladyship arose as she ceased speaking, her eye falling as she did soupon the lovely upturned face upon the table, and she vowed in her heartthat if she could prevent it, the girl should never set her foot over thethreshold of Heathdale. 

How she was to carry out this vow she had as yet no idea; but all themalice and enmity of her heart had been aroused against her, and it shouldgo hard with her if she could not find some way to vent it upon her. 

"Thank you, Miriam, " Sir William responded, as he opened the door for hissister to pass out, but he spoke somewhat coldly. 

He could not lightly forgive and overlook the scorn that had been heapedupon the darling of his heart, while the fact that his marriage had beenkept a secret angered him exceedingly, and placed him in a very unpleasantposition. 

He resolved that as soon as his mother should be better, he would have aplain talk with her, also, and insist upon an announcement of Lady Heath'sexistence and her expected arrival. But until the invalid was out ofdanger he deemed it advisable not to create any excitement on the subject. 

Chapter XII. 

"I Will Join You Heart and Hand. "

Later in the day, while Sir William was engaged with the Stewart lookingover accounts and inquiring into the condition of Heathdale generally, Lady Linton went quietly up to her brother's rooms to attend to theunpacking of his trunks and putting his wardrobe in order. 

While thus engaged she came across a worn portfolio filled with papers ofvarious kinds. 

She knew at once that it was nothing that belonged to her brother, andsurmised that its contents might contain much of interest regarding thedespised girl whom he had married in the far West of America. 

The key was attached by a ribbon to the portfolio, and was tucked into afold of the leather, and no sense of either delicacy or honor preventedher making use of her opportunity for gratifying her curiosity regardingthe young wife, without the necessity of asking questions. 

Accordingly, she boldly and unhesitatingly unlocked the portfolio, andbegan examining its contents. 

These proved to be mostly business papers and legal documents, with someletters directed to a name that she had never heard before. She would haveliked to read them, but she feared being interrupted while doing so, andshe of course had no wish to have her brother know she was prying thusinto his affairs so she laid them back in their place, resolving at somefuture time to examine them more thoroughly. But there was one envelopeamong them of much fresher appearance than the others, and with no addressupon it, although it contained a document of some kind. 

Lady Linton slipped it out, and, unfolding it, found it to be the marriagecertificate of her brother and his wife. 

She was astonished to find that the ceremony had occurred in some place inNevada, remote from any city or town--a little settlement of which she hadnever heard--and as she read further, her eyes grew wide with astonishmentand her face dark with anger. 

"He wrote us that her name was Virginia Abbot, " she cried, indignantly, acrimson flush mounting to her brow, "and here it is given as Virginia--"

A step sounded outside the door in the hall just then, and her ladyshippaused, affrighted, to listen, that last name unspoken on her lips. 

But it proved to be only a servant passing on some duty, and she went onwith her investigations. 

"There is some inexplicable mystery about this thing, " she murmured. "Thename is the same as that on those letters, and I am sure he has deceivedus shamefully. He said that she was the daughter of a once wealthyCalifornian, but it seems that they were not in California at all. Theremust have been some reason for their burying themselves in that isolatedplace, and--<i>I will yet find out what it was</i>!"

She returned the certificate to the envelope, and put back the papers intheir proper places. 

All at once her face lighted. 

"Sara was going directly to San Francisco. I will write her to look thisthing up. I will have that girl's secret before she is a month older, andthen we will <i>see</i> whether she comes here to Heathdale to queen it overus. "

She resumed her work, but there was a sullen, resolute expression on herface which told of some purpose that she was determining to carry out atall hazards. 

When Sir William's trunks were at length emptied, she rang for a servantto take them to a storeroom, after which she repaired to her ownapartment, where she wrote steadily and rapidly for more than an hour. 

At the end of that time she folded and sealed her letter, and directed itto "Mrs. Sara Farnum, Palace Hotel, San Francisco, Cal. , " and the verynext post from Heathdale carried on its way the missive that was destinedto help accomplish one of the greatest wrongs that had ever beenperpetrated. 

The reader will doubtless remember that when the dowager Lady Heath andLady Linton were discussing Sir William's sudden marriage the name "Sadie"was mentioned in connection with the baronet. 

Sadie was a beautiful English girl of two or three-and-twenty and theyoungest child and only daughter of Mrs. Sara Farnum, to whom Lady Lintonhad just written. 

Sadie Farnum had said and thought a great deal upon learning of SirWilliam's union with the American maiden, for the news had been a terribledeath-blow to her own hopes and ambitions. 

She had long entertained the desire and intention of one day becoming themistress of Heathdale; it had been the dearest wish of her heart, and foryears she had used every art in which she was skilled to bring the manshe loved to her feet, and thus accomplish her purpose. 

Mrs. Farnum and Lady Linton had been intimate friends from girlhood, andit had also been a darling scheme of theirs to marry the daughter of theone to the brother of the other, thus securing a fine position and titleto Sadie, and adding to the already well-filled coffers of Heathdale thehandsome fortune which the young girl would bring to her husband. 

But Sir William had never appeared to be particularly fond of the societyof ladies, at least he was not what would be termed a ladies' man, although he went frequently into company, and did not fall in with thoseplans for his future happiness as readily as their projectors desired. 

He liked Sadie well enough as a friend, and had been in the way of seeinga great deal of her, as Lady Linton frequently invited her to spendseveral weeks with her. He even promised to correspond with her when heleft England to travel in America, and at the time of his first meetingwith Virgie, he had in his pocket a voluminous letter indited by her. 

But she had never touched his heart; she was bright, beautiful, andaccomplished, yet there was something lacking in her nature which his owndemanded and which he recognized at once in the lovely mountain maiden themoment that he met her that wild night when he came a stranger to herhome. 

But Sadie was so broken-hearted over the blighting of all her fond hopes, and grieved so sorely that her health began to suffer in consequence, andwhen Sir William's return began to be talked of, Mrs. Farnum decided totake her daughter traveling and thus avoid any unpleasant meeting andfresh grief when the young Lady Heath should come to take possession ofher new home. 

Accordingly they sailed for America, and knowing that the baronet was inNew York, went directly to the Pacific coast about a fortnight previous toSir William's return to Heathdale. 

The letter which Lady Linton sent her friend was written, as we know, themorning following her brother's return, and five weeks later, upon thevery day of little Virgie May Heath's birth, there came to her anexceedingly gratifying reply. 

A portion of it read thus:

"Regarding the important questions which you have asked about the ----'s. I will not write the name for fear this letter might sometime chance tomeet other eyes. I find that such a family resided here a number of yearsago. They occupied a high position in society appeared to have unlimitedmeans at their command and were much respected, but they were suddenlyovertaken by terrible misfortunes which cut them instantly down from theirhigh estate and they were obliged to flee from the city in disgrace. It isquite a complicated story, and I have not been able to learn all thedetails. I can do so, however, if you wish. 

"But what is your object? What do you know about the family? Has itanything to do with that girl whom your brother so rashly married in sucha romantic manner? If it has, let me know, and I will gladly search thecontinent over for material to make her bitterly repent for striking sucha blow to my Sadie's, and indeed to all our hopes. Answer immediately andwhatever instructions you may give me, I will follow most faithfully. Iam ready to join you heart and hand in any vendetta against the disturberof our peace. "

Lady Linton smiled curiously after reading this epistle. 

"I imagined as much, " she muttered, "and they presumed to aspire to analliance with a Heath of Heathdale, when their own name was so hopelesslydisgraced that they did not dare to own it or be known by it, and wereforced to hide their guilty heads in that low mining district. No, sir; myLord of Heath, your shameless bride shall never enter this sacredancestral house if there are any means, lawful or otherwise to preventit. "

After the examination of the portfolio which she had found in herbrother's trunk, Lady Linton's curiosity had been insatiable, andsimulating an air of friendliness and resignation which she was far fromfeeling, she had encouraged him to talk of his wife, hoping thus to learnmore of her history, and trap him into acknowledging something of themystery which surrounded her. 

But though Sir William was never loth to talk of his darling, and alwaysspoke of her in the fondest terms, he would never commit himself regardingher past; that was to be a sealed book in England, and not even to hismother and sister would he ever breathe one word of that sad story, thatMr. Abbot had told him when he pleaded for his daughter's hand, or aughtthat would cast a shadow upon any member of her family. 

"She was the daughter of a once wealthy Californian whom reverses hadimpoverished, " he invariably told them. "She was finely educated andfitted, both by nature and culture, to shine in any circle. "

"By whom were you married, William?" his mother asked, having at lastdeigned to show some interest in the circumstance. 

"By the Rev. Dr. Thornton, an Episcopalian clergyman

"Of San Francisco?"

"No, of Virginia City;" and Sir William smiled that she was not familiarenough with the geographical location of the place to know that it was notin California at all. 

"Oh, then you were not married in San Francisco?" interrupted Lady Linton, looking up eagerly, and hoping now to get something definite regardingthat outlandish place in Nevada. 

"No, " he replied, not thinking it necessary to enter into particulars, andleaving them to infer what they chose. 

Her ladyship was baffled again, not daring to press him further lest heshould suspect that she had been tampering with his papers. 

But she tried to console herself with the thought that she would soon knowall there was to be known; then what use she might make of her knowledgeremained to be seen. 

Lady Heath was improving, but still far from being out of danger, andcould not endure the least confusion. 

Sir William was very restless, and anxious to get back to his dear ones inAmerica; but Sir Herbert Randall was opposed to his going. 

"It would be fatal, my dear sir, " he asserted; "the excitement of yourdeparture and the separation would undoubtedly bring on another shock fromwhich her ladyship could not possibly rally, even if it did not kill heroutright. Haven't you done roving enough yet?" the physician concluded, regarding the young man with some surprise. 

"But I've left----" Sir William began, when he was interrupted by astartled cry from Lady Linton, who was in the room, as she carelesslyupset a vase of flowers on the table beside her. 

"How awkward of me!" she exclaimed, flushing a deep crimson; "won't youplease ring the bell, William for some one to come and clean up thismess?"

He went to the opposite side of the room to do her bidding, and she tookthe occasion to inform Sir Herbert in a low tone, that her brother hadleft some unfinished business in America, which he was anxious to havesettled. 

"I'm sorry, " replied the physician, "but it will have to remain unsettledfor a while longer, if he has a proper regard for his mother's health. "

Of course the great doctor's verdict was decisive, and Sir William wasforced to curb his impatience as best he could. He would not allow himselfto do anything that would endanger his mother's life, and yet his heartwas yearning for his wife and for the little one whom he had never seen. 

"Have patience a little longer, my darling, " he wrote Virgie that evening;I will come just as soon as it will do for me to leave home. My heartlongs for you every hour in the day; life seems almost a blank withoutyou, and I find it difficult to employ myself about anything. If you werestronger, and our little one was older, I would send some trusty messengerfor you, and another eight days would find you in our beautiful home. ButI fear such a proceeding would be hardly wise at present. 

"Write to me often, my Virgie, and be very careful in directing yourletters; I am afraid that I have missed one or two of your last. Oh, happyday when there will be no longer any need to communicate with each otherin this slow way. "

Sir William had indeed missed his wife's last letters and this was theonly one that she ever received from him after that date. 

How was it?

Ask Lady Linton, or go seek in the little brazier, which stood at night inthe dressing-room of her mother for the purpose of heating the nourishmentshe was accustomed to take at twelve, for the ashes of the loving epistleswhich the fond husband and wife believed no other save themselves wouldperuse. 

Chapter XIII. 

Becoming Acquainted. 

Little Virginia May Heath was just six weeks old, and becoming mostinteresting to her fond mamma, who was getting stronger every day, andable to take a little exercise in the corridor outside her rooms, when onemorning as she was pacing slowly back and forth, thinking of her absenthusband, and wishing, oh, so yearningly, that he could come to her, sheencountered two ladies who had just ascended the stairs, and passed on totheir apartments which were just beyond hers. 

One was a finely formed, majestic woman, evidently somewhat over fiftyyears, having the air and bearing of one accustomed to society and theways of the world. She was tastefully and elegantly dressed, every articleof her apparel denoting wealth and a careful regard for fashion. 

The other was a young lady, perhaps a year or two older than Virgie, aperfect blonde, with a tall, beautifully developed form, and with a facesuch as poets and artists rave about. It was a pure oval, faultless infeature and coloring, and yet withal, if closely studied, there was asuspicion of shallowness and insincerity in the full, sapphire eyes, andthe perfectly formed but rather weak mouth. 

Still Virgie, as she lifted her own lovely eyes and beheld this younglady, thought she had never seen any one more beautiful, while she coloredslightly, and wondered why the strangers should observe her so closelyand with such evident interest. 

It was a very warm day, and she was clad in a fine white robe, richlyembroidered and garnished with pale lavender ribbon. If she had butrealized it, she was exquisitely beautiful herself, with her glossy, brownhair carelessly yet gracefully coiled at the back of her head, the colorbeginning to tinge her cheeks, that smile of happiness upon her sweetlips, and the holy mother-light shining in her violet eyes. 

"Mamma, that must be she; that must be Lady Heath, " whispered the youngerof the two strangers, when they had passed beyond hearing. 

"Lady Heath!" was the scornful repetition, accompanied by a flash of angerfrom the dark eyes of the elder woman. 

"Well, mamma, you know of course who I mean. She must be the girl whomLady Linton wrote about. "

"I imagine so. She answers the description that Miriam gave of herphotograph. Yes, hark! she has just opened her door, and surely that was ababy's cry. "

"Well, at last we have seen her, " returned the girl, "and I must confess, I think she is perfectly lovely. She has such beautiful eyes, such a fair, delicate complexion, and is so peculiarly dainty every way. I do not blameSir William for falling in love with her. "

"Mercy, Sadie, how you do chatter! no one would believe, to hear you, thatyou had been almost heart-broken because this very girl, over whom you areso enthusiastic, had ruined your prospects, " returned her mother, impatiently. 

The young girl flushed crimson at this shaft. 

"Thank you, mamma, for reminding me of the fact, " she said, bitterly. "Itis true that through her all my fondest hopes have been blighted, and Isuppose I ought to bitterly hate her for it; but truly her exceedingbeauty and sweetness half disarm me. "

The elder woman made no reply to this, but her manner betrayed bothcontempt and irritation, her brow was clouded with a wrathful expression, and her lips were drawn into a straight, rigid line, denoting some crueland inflexible purpose. 

It will readily be surmised that these two ladies were none other thanMrs. Farnum and her daughter, who, as we learned in the previous chapter, were traveling in the United States, in the hope of improving the healthand spirits of the latter. 

Mrs. Farnum had married while very young, and was the mother of threechildren--two sons and one daughter. 

She had herself been very attractive as a girl, and had many suitors; butwith an eye to the comforts of life, she had said "no" to all the titledand impecunious lovers, and given her hand to a man of wealth, who, withhis million of pounds, bade fair to add another million to them in thecourse of time. 

Miriam Heath, on the contrary, had been rather a plain-looking girl, somewhat cold and repelling in manner, and was almost an old maid beforeshe was married; thus she was often an inmate of her friend's palatialhome, and became much interested in her children, and little Sadie Farnumhad scarcely reached her teens before the two women began to plan a unionbetween the young heir of Heathdale and the heiress to half a millionpounds. 

It had been the cherished dream of years, while almost from childhoodSadie had been foolishly taught to regard Heathdale as her future home, and to look upon Sir William as her promised husband; thus thedisappointment had been a terrible one to them all when they learned thatthe baronet had married a "nobody" from the hated and disloyal countrythat had rebelled against its rightful sovereign. 

Lady Linton might be said to have become almost a monomaniac upon thispoint, and so bitter was her ire at thus being balked in her plans, sokeen her hatred of the innocent girl who had been the cause of it, thatshe abandoned herself to the wildest schemes, casting all honor andwomanliness to the winds, and bending all her energies toward thedestruction of the happiness of the newly wedded couple. She resolved tobegin operations by making an ally of her friend, Mrs. Farnum. 

Fortunately she was at that moment in California, the former home ofVirgie, and could perhaps ascertain what mystery overshadowed her formerlife that had made it necessary to conceal her true name. This wouldperhaps give a clew how to proceed further, and, as we know, her letterwas written at once, and brought an immediate reply. Furthercorrespondence elicited information which only tended to strengthen LadyLinton in her evil designs, and Mrs. Farnum was advised to proceeddirectly to New York and take up her abode in the same hotel where Virgiewas located, where she could successfully aid and abet her superior in hermalicious operations. 

Thus we find Mrs. Farnum and her daughter not only in the same house, buton the same floor with the young wife and her child, and only waiting fora favorable opportunity to strike a fatal blow to her happiness. 

Virgie had of late experienced a good deal of anxiety regarding herhusband, for his letters, which at first had come with every steamer, hadsuddenly ceased entirely. 

For a while this had only filled her with hope, for she had told herselfthat doubtless he was coming for her; he might even be on the way to giveher a joyful surprise. But as time went on and not a word came from him, she was haunted with a sickening dread. He might be ill, she reasoned; butsurely in that case he would send some message by another, or, if he couldnot do that, some member of her family would certainly let her know. 

She wrote faithfully, notwithstanding, giving all details regardingherself and their little one, never dreaming that her fond letters, havingfirst been devoured by evil, greedy eyes, were ruthlessly consigned to theflames. 

Every day after the arrival of Mrs. Farnum and her daughter, one or bothof the ladies managed to come upon her whenever she walked in thecorridor, and soon they began to nod in a friendly manner when they passedher; then a smile and a look of interest was added, until finally it cameto be the regular custom to bid her a pleasant good-morning. 

But Virgie was retiring by nature, and the acquaintance did not progressrapidly enough to suit Mrs. Farnum, and she was meditating a bold move, when one day Sadie came suddenly upon the nurse, who was promenading thelong hall, with her little charge in her arms. 

"Oh!" she cried, stopping before her, "I am sure this must be our littleneighbor who serenades us once in a while. I dote on babies. May I have alook at the darling?"

"I hope, miss, she doesn't disturb you, " the nurse replied respectfully, but looking greatly pleased to have the little one noticed. 

"No, indeed; the house is so frightfully still that it is real music tohear its little voice once in a while. What a little beauty it is, to besure!" Miss Farnum returned, volubly, as she pulled away the lace frillfrom the small face to get a better view of the young heiress ofHeathdale. 

"What is its name?" she asked, after contemplating her in silence for amoment. 

"Virginia May Heath, " the woman replied, thinking the young lady verygracious. 

"Oh, how pretty! I suppose she will be called 'May. ' She looks just like alittle May blossom. "

"No, miss; they call her Virgie. Madam would have preferred the othername, but her husband wanted her called for his wife, of whom he is veryfond. "

Sadie Farnum's face clouded at this. 

"I presume that delicate lady whom I see occasionally walking here in thecorridor is La--is Mrs. Heath?" she said, more to make the nurse talk thanbecause she desired information on this point. 

"Yes, miss; the streets are so rough she does not care much for driving, and she must have some exercise. "

Virgie herself appeared in the doorway of her parlor at this moment, andsmiled as she noticed the young lady admiring her baby. 

Miss Farnum colored slightly, then said boldly, with a light laugh:

"Pray do not think me very bold, Mrs. Heath, but I have been seeking anintroduction to your little daughter. She is very lovely, and I am <i>so</i>fond of babies. "

While she spoke her eyes had been fixed upon Virgie's face, and shethought she had never looked upon any one more beautiful than this womanwho was her rival--for so she regarded her. 

She wore a delicate blue lawn, trimmed profusely with filmy white lace;there was a dainty cap upon her head, while she had a few blush-rosesfastened in her belt. Every day she was growing stronger and better, andher beauty seemed to increase in proportion. 

She bowed to Sadie, and smiled again as she remarked that it was ratherunusual for young ladies to be so fond of children of that tender age. 

"Then I am an exception to the rule, Mrs. Heath, " Miss Farnum answered;"but since I have made your daughter's acquaintance, allow me to introducemyself to you also. I am Sadie Farnum, and mamma and I are your nearestleft-hand neighbors. "

"I am very glad to know you, Miss Farnum, " Virgie returned, graciously, and thinking her delightfully frank and pleasant. 

She was really very glad to meet her in a less formal way than usual, andhoped they should be friends. 

She had been feeling rather lonely of late, besides being depressed onaccount of her husband's long silence; she had no acquaintances, and sawscarcely any one save the physician and her nurse. 

"I am afraid mamma will think I have committed a shocking breach ofetiquette, " Sadie went on; "but we are strangers in the city, and I havebeen longing to know you ever since our first meeting here in thecorridor. May I come in to see you occasionally, and this little darling?"

She concluded with such a winning air, as she stooped and lightly kissedthe tiny pink face lying upon the nurse's arm, that Virgie's heart wasentirely won. 

"Yes, indeed, Miss Farnum; I should be delighted to have you. I am alonemost of the time, and it would be very pleasant to have some youngcompany. "

"Thank you. Then, if you do not object, I will waive all ceremony, andcome to see you in a friendly way. May I bring mamma, too, and introduceher to you?"

"I shall be very glad to meet Mrs. Farnum, " Virgie responded, and theninstantly asked herself if she had spoken the exact truth, for she stoodsomewhat in awe of that aristocratic and imposing looking woman, whosecurious, piercing glance, in spite of her assumption of friendliness, gaveher an unpleasant sensation. 

"Mamma, the ice is broken at last!" Sadie Farnum cried, rushing in uponher mother, with a glowing face, after the above interview, and sheproceeded to give her a detailed account of her meeting with Virgie. 

"She is as lovely as a dream, mamma, " she said, "and as sweet and graciousas any lady need to be. If she were not Sir William Heath's wife I shouldbe ready to do homage at her shrine with all my heart. "

"Nonsense! Has she any education? Can she converse respectably?" demandedMrs. Farnum, with a frown at her daughter's enthusiasm. 

"She is a perfect lady, and her language is beyond criticism--she is fitto be the wife of any peer. "

"Gracious! Sadie, how you annoy me!" ejaculated Mrs. Farnum, angrily. "Just think of her antecedents. "

"Well, the girl is not to blame if her father was a scamp, and should notbe made to suffer for his sins, " responded her daughter, who was notnaturally bad, and but for her mother's influence, would even now havebeen won to a better disposition by Virgie's sweetness. 

"What rank folly you are talking!" retorted her mother. "No girl has aright to marry a respectable man with such a stain on her name. "

"Perhaps she does not know anything about her father's crime. "

"Pshaw! She was fifteen years old when they had to flee from SanFrancisco; she could not help knowing that something was wrong, and as shegrew older she could not fail to understand it. From the way you talk itis evident that you yourself have fallen in love with the woman who hascheated you out of your husband. "

"Perhaps I have, mamma, " Sadie answered, with a spice of defiance andwickedly taking pleasure in working her mother up to a certain pitch. "Shelooked so pretty just now--she has the loveliest complexion, just clearred and white, with such dark blue eyes that they seem almost black whenshe is animated, and such pretty waving brown hair, while her features arepure and delicate Her taste, too, is exquisite--her dress was just theright shade to set off her clear skin; she had the daintiest littlematron's cap on her head--real thread, too--while a handful of blush-rosesin her belt made her look too lovely for anything. "

"Do hush, Sadie; you irritate me beyond endurance; one would think thatyou were only too ready to renounce all your hopes to this plebeian whohas stolen your lover, " and Mrs. Farnum turned upon her daughter as ifready to shake her for her folly. 

"Mamma!" she cried, passionately, and bursting into tears, for she hadbeen working herself up as well, "when I am away from her I hate her forhaving won him from me, and I am almost ready to do anything desperate;but when I am with her she disarms me; there is something about the girlthat almost makes me love her. If you could have seen her this morning, she looked so proud and happy when I praised the baby. "

"Sadie Farnum, I do believe you are becoming demented! Here is poor LadyLinton almost heart-broken over her brother's <i>mesalliance</i>, his motherlies at death's door on account of the excitement caused by it, while you, who ought to be the most interested party of all, are about to turntraitress and go over to the enemy just because of a foolishsentimentality for this doll-faced girl. I declare, I have no patiencewith you. "

"I think you have said enough, mamma, " replied Miss Farnum, coldly, andwiping away her tears, "but there may come a time when you will regretyour present attitude--when you will be sorry that you strove to inculcatesuch a bitter spirit into the mind of your only daughter. Lady Linton forsome strange reason wanted us to come here and see for ourselves what thisgirl is like; we have seen her. Let us go our way now and not revive oldhopes and ambitions, which, to say the least, are not pleasant to rememberunder the circumstances. Yes, let us end this disagreeable business, andleave Sir William Heath's wife alone. "

"I am not ready to leave New York yet, and we will stay where we are forthe present, " responded Mrs. Farnum, flushing a deep red, for she hadnever told her daughter of the plot which she was helping Lady Linton tocarry out, and she saw now that it would not be wise to do so, since Sadiemight flatly refuse to have anything to do with it, and in her presentstate of mind, might do something to upset their well-laid schemes. 

Chapter XIV. 

The Plot Begins to Work. 

The acquaintance between the Farnums and Virgie progressed rapidly afterthe meeting between Sadie and the young wife. Mrs. Farnum was dulyintroduced, and did not prove to be nearly so formidable a personage asVirgie had imagined her to be; for although she was not drawn toward heras she had been to her daughter, yet she was so gracious and exertedherself to be so agreeable, that Virgie could but acknowledge to herselfthat she was a very pleasant and entertaining person. 

Visits were exchanged almost every day between them; the baby was praisedand admired, and Virgie was petted and made much of, until her heart andconfidence were entirely won. 

They insisted upon her driving with them; "the fresh air would do hergood, " Mrs. Farnum declared, "for she had noticed during the last weekthat she was losing color;" and thus she made many excursions with the twoladies, and visited many points of interest. They even proposed that theyshould go into the country together, as it was getting so oppressivelywarm in the city; but Virgie would not listen to this proposition, becauseof her anxiety for letters, and the hope that Sir William might be comingfor her. 

Poor child! she was, indeed, losing color, and was almost heart-sick withthe terrible suspense, although she tried to be very brave and to concealher trouble from every eye. 

She wrote again and again to her husband, begging for one line, one wordeven, pleading that he would let her come to him if he was ill and neededher. She would gladly brave the dangers of the ocean alone, she told him, if he would but give her his consent to do so. 

But still that terrible silence remained unbroken. 

She was almost tempted to set out alone in spite of everything, andnothing but the fear of passing her husband on the way prevented her doingso. 

She had learned that the Farnums were English, but upon discovering thattheir home was a long distance from Heathdale--Mr. Farnum owned a largeestate in Bedford County--she reasoned that they could not know anythingof Sir William's family; and being extremely sensitive regarding hisrecent apparent neglect of her, she did not once hint that she expectedher own future home would also be in England. 

Meantime Lady Linton's plans were ripening. Events were occurring atHeathdale which she trusted would serve her purpose well; and now Mrs. Farnum was only waiting for a favorable opportunity to commence aggressiveoperations. 

The opportunity soon came. Sadie had been invited by some friends to spenda week or two at Coney Island, and her mother, fearing if she should bethere to witness Virgie's grief when she began to work out her plot, thatshe might do something to upset her plans, willingly gave her consent forher to go. 

On the afternoon after her departure, Mrs. Farnum with a basket of fancywork in hand, went to pay Virgie a little visit, saying she was lonelywithout Sadie, and had come in for a cozy chat. 

The young wife had evidently been weeping, for her cheeks were flushed andher eyes heavy, but she received her guest cordially, and exerted herselfto be entertaining. 

Mrs. Farnum appeared unconscious of anything unusual although she watchedthe young wife keenly, and readily surmised what had caused herunhappiness. 

She chatted socially for a while on various topics, but after a time laiddown her work, and taking up a book from a table near which she wassitting, began carelessly turning over its pages. 

"Jean Ingelow, " she remarked, with a smile. "Are you fond of her poetry, Mrs. Heath?"

"Yes, " Virgie answered, "I think some of her poems are very sweet. "

Mrs. Farnum glanced absently at two or three, then turned to the fly leafof the book, while Virgie's eyes mechanically followed her movements. 

The name of William Heath was written there. 

Mrs. Farnum looked up surprised, then smiled. 

"Your husband's name is William?" she said, inquiringly

"Yes, " Virgie returned, with a slight flush, while a pang shot through herheart at the sound of the dear name. 

"You must be very lonely to be separated from him for so long a time, "said the woman, in a sympathetic tone. 

"Indeed I am, " said the young wife, with a long-drawn sigh which did notescape her companion's notice, "but our separation is compulsory. "

"Ah, he was away at the time of our arrival, was he not?"

"Yes, he was called to his home nearly three months ago by the illness ofhis mother. "

Mrs. Farnum assumed a look of surprise. 

"And could not you accompany him?" she asked, as if she thought it verystrange that Virgie should not have done so. 

"No, my physician would not allow me to travel; the summons came only ashort time before the birth of my baby, and he said a sea voyage could notbe thought of for me, so my husband was obliged to go without me. "

"A sea voyage!" repeated Mrs. Farnum, with a start. 

"Yes. My husband's home is in England, " Virgie answered, flushing vividly. 

A blank look came over Mrs. Farnum's face, then she assumed a grievedexpression. 

"In England! and you never told us that you were our countrywoman, Mrs. Heath!" she said, reproachfully. 

"I am not. I am a native of California, " Virgie explained with someconfusion; but I seldom speak of myself to strangers. "

"With good reason, my pert young woman!" mentally retorted Mrs, Farnum, for her companion's last words had been rather coldly uttered. Then shesaid aloud, in a pitying tone:

"It must have been very trying for you to let your husband go on such ajourney without you?"

"Yes, indeed, it was, " Virgie replied, with lips that quivered painfully;"but, of course, I could not keep him from his dying mother. "

"Was her condition so critical as that?"

"Certainly, or my husband would not have consented to leave me. Mrs. Heathwas suddenly stricken with paralysis. "

Again Mrs. Farnum started, and bent a long, searching look upon hercompanion--a look that made Virgie feel very uncomfortable and wonder whatit meant. 

"Is--is she still living?" the woman asked, still regarding Virgiesearchingly. 

"Yes--at least, she was the last I heard; but her condition was stillconsidered so critical that she could not bear the least excitement. "

"Then it is some time since you have heard from her?" remarked Mrs. Farnum, pointedly. 

Virgie bridled a trifle at being so closely questioned. She thought herguest was trespassing beyond the bounds of good breeding. But, after amoment, feeling as if she must share her burden with some one, she said, in an unsteady voice:

"No, I have not, and--I am afraid that my husband's letters havemiscarried, and the suspense has been very trying. "

"Ahem! Mrs. Heath, there is something very strange--very inexplicableabout what you have told me, " Mrs. Farnum said, in a grave tone. 

Virgie looked up, astonished both at the words and tone. 

"I do not understand you, " she returned. 

"You know, of course, that we are English people, " began her companion. 

"Yes. Miss Sadie mentioned the fact to me during the first of ouracquaintance. "

"Did she ever tell you that we know people in England by the name ofHeath?"

"No. Do you?" Virgie cried, eagerly, her face lighting as she thoughtperhaps she might learn something regarding her long silent husband. 

"Yes, and they are a very fine family. They belong in Hampshire, and I mayas well tell you that they are a very proud and aristocratic family, laying great stress upon their unimpeachable honor and untarnished name. "

Virgie flushed a painful crimson at this, which her companion noticedwith a thrill of exultation, and then resumed:

"The oldest daughter, who married a peer of the realm, has been my mostintimate friend for many years. Sir William, also----"

"Sir William!" Virgie interrupted, catching her breath, face growingradiant. 

"Yes, that's the name of the son and heir. I was about to remark that heis a baronet and that it is a singular coincidence that he should alsohave been here in America while his mother was stricken with paralysis. Itis strange, too, that his first name should be the same as your husband's;but----"

"Oh, Mrs. Farnum, " cried Virgie, leaning forward and seizing the woman'shands in a transport of joy, as she believed she was about to hear somedefinite news regarding her loved one, "Sir William Heath is myhusband--can you tell me anything about him? I have not heard a word fromhim for more than a month, and I am nearly distracted from anxiety andsuspense. "

Mrs. Farnum drew back in well-feigned astonishment. 

"Child! are you mad? Sir William Heath your husband? It is simplyimpossible. "

Virgie straightened herself, and yet it seemed as if somebody had suddenlystruck her a cruel blow upon her naked heart. 

Mrs. Farnum had just told her that for years she had been the mostintimate friend of Lady Linton and yet to all appearances she had beenliterally astounded to learn that Sir William was married. 

Could it be possible that her husband had never acknowledged her as hiswife to his family?

The thought almost paralyzed her for a moment; then she put it indignantlyaway from her. 

No, he had written letter after letter to his mother and sister--at leasthe had spoken of so doing, though she had never read them--telling oftheir marriage, and speaking of their return to Heathdale. Of course hisfriends must have been apprised of all that had occurred during hisabsence; still it was very strange that the "most intimate acquaintance ofLady Linton" had not been made acquainted with the fact. 

All at once, however, she brightened. Mrs. Farnum had been traveling inAmerica also, for how long she did not know, and perhaps that accountedfor it. If she did not correspond with Lady Linton she had no means ofknowing of the baronet's marriage. 

She even smiled to think how foolish she had been to allow such thoughtsto have even for a moment a place in her mind, as she looked up and said:

"No, indeed, Mrs. Farnum, I am not mad, and it is not impossible that I amSir William Heath's wife. We were married last September, and after thedeath of my father, who was very ill at the time, we traveled for severalmonths and then came to New York, intending to sail for England the lastof May, but were forbidden to do so by my physician, as I have alreadytold you. "

"Still I say it is impossible. The Sir William Heath whom I mean is themaster of a large estate called Heathdale in Hampshire County, England, "reiterated Mrs. Farnum, decisively. 

"And my husband is the master of Heathdale, in Hampshire County, England, "Virgie said, a trifle proudly. 

She resented the woman's incredulity, while she could not forget what shehad said about the "unimpeachable honor and untarnished name" of thefamily. It had stung her keenly, though she did not suspect that it hadbeen an intentional slur upon the shadow resting on her own. 

Mrs. Farnum's only reply was a look of increased astonishment, mingledwith something of horror. 

A crimson flush dyed Virgie's face. 

"May I ask, Mrs. Farnum, how long you have been in America?" she said. 

"We sailed from Liverpool the sixth of May. "

Virgie's heart sank a trifle. 

"And had you seen your friend, Lady Linton, within a few months previousto that time?"

"Lady Linton came to London only three weeks before, to make me a farewellvisit. She was with me ten days. "

The young wife grew pale. 

"And did she not mention the fact of her brother's marriage?" she inquiredin a faint voice. 

"No such event in connection with him has ever been announced, " returnedthe woman, ruthlessly. "His friends know nothing of it. Sir William Heathis believed by his friends to be a single man. More than this----"

Virgie stopped her with a gesture, but she was as white as new fallen snowas she arose, and going to her writing-desk, brought a letter, which shelaid upon Mrs. Farnum's lap. 

"There is his last letter to me, " she said, but her lips were almost rigidas she spoke. "It will prove my statements. "

Mrs. Farnum took it, and examined the envelope. It was directed to "Mrs. William Heath, ----Hotel, New York City, U. S. A. " It was post-marked atHeathdale. The handwriting was familiar, and she knew well enough thatSir William Heath had penned it. 

"Mrs. William Heath!" she said, reading the name aloud. "He does notaddress you as Lady Heath, which is your proper title if you are hiswife. "

"Oh!" cried Virgie, with a shiver of pain, for those last words, implyinga doubt of her position, hurt her like a knife. "Neither of us cared to beconspicuous while we were traveling, so my husband dropped his title, " sheexplained. 

"Ahem! that was a very strange proceeding. But does--does he say anythingabout coming for you, in this letter?" inquired her companion, who wasburning with curiosity to know what it contained. 

"You may read it if you like, Mrs. Farnum. I see that you are still indoubt about my being what I represent myself, " Virgie returned, with somehauteur. 

Mrs. Farnum flushed at this. 

"You must excuse me, my dear, " she said, with hypocritical blandness, "but--but--it is simply unaccountable to me, knowing what I do about thefamily and their future plans for Sir William. I'm afraid----"

She did not finish what she was going to say, but coolly drew the letterfrom the envelope, unfolded, and began to read it, never once stopping toconsider how she was outraging the delicacy and affection of the youngwife by this act, notwithstanding that she had received permission to doso--She could not doubt, as she read, that the young baronet's heart hadall been given to this fair, beautiful woman, for though written in hisown dignified way, the letter was full of devotion and loyalty to her. Andyet not once in all those eight pages had he called her by the sacred nameof "wife. " There were all manner of pet names and expressions ofendearment, but not a single time was written that word which would haveproved so much. 

The arch plotter as she read, was quick to observe this omission, and shegloated over it; it would materially help to further her designs in thefuture she thought, if this letter was a sample of all others which he hadwritten her. She would have given a great deal to be able to have thatpretty writing-desk at her command for an hour or two. 

Her face took on a sterner and graver look than she had ever yet worn asshe read on, and when at length she finished the epistle, she appeared thehorrified prude to perfection. 

Chapter XV. 

The Lawful Wife. 

"Have you a picture of your--of Sir William, madam?" Mrs. Farnum inquired, as she folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. 

Virgie arose without a word, and taking a velvet album from the table, opened it to certain picture and laid it before her companion. 

Mrs. Farnum uttered a cry of despair as her glance fell upon the handsome, upturned face. 

"Yes, that is a picture of Sir William Heath, of Heathdale; there can beno mistake, " she confessed, with a perfectly rigid face. "But, Mrs. --oh, madam--I am simply stunned!"

"What <i>do</i> you mean?" Virgie demanded, standing straight and tall beforeher, and meeting her eyes with a blazing look which warned Mrs. Farnum tobe careful how she dealt with that spirit. 

"Pray, be calm, my child, " she returned, with a pitiful accent. "Sit downbeside me here, and I will explain why I am so disturbed. Good heavens! wehave always supposed that Sir William was a man of unblemished honor. "

"Madam, be careful how you speak of my husband!" Virgie interrupted, haughtily, yet with a note of agony in her voice. "Sir William is anhonorable man, and I will not allow you to say one word against him in mypresence. "

"Poor child! poor child! I fear you have been terribly deceived. How canI ever tell you!" murmured Mrs. Farnum, in a shuddering voice, and withevery appearance of distress. 

"You <i>shall</i> tell me instantly. I will not stand here and listen to suchparalyzing insinuations. <i>If</i> you have any thing to tell me, say it atonce, and do not keep me in this maddening suspense!" Virgie commandedgrasping the woman by the wrist, and transfixing her with her blazingeyes. 

If Sir William Heath could have seen her at that moment he would have beenvery proud of her, for she had never been so beautiful, although aterrible agony was stamped upon her white, imperious face. 

"I can only repeat what I have already said. It is impossible. You willnever be mistress of Heathdale!" reiterated Mrs. Farnum, in an inflexiblevoice, as she disengaged her wrist from Virgie's grasp, which had left theimprint of every finger upon it. 

"Go on!" commanded the young wife, authoritatively "You have simply made astatement. You must confirm it. "

"Because, " proceeded the relentless woman, "in the first place, if you arehis wife, he would long before this have acknowledged you as such to hisfriends. "

"He has done so, I tell you. He wrote immediately after our marriage, announcing it. "

"Did you see him <i>post</i> his letter?" inquired Mrs. Farnum, quietly, but ina tone that keenly stung the sensitive girl before her. 

"No, " she replied, a hot flush mounting to her brow; "but I know he did. He is to honorable to dissemble. "

"Did you ever see any reply to his communication in which his friendsrecognized the fact of your marriage?"

"No. I--I never questioned him, " Virgie answered, with white lips. "Myfather was very ill, dying, at that time, and I scarcely thought ofanything else. "

"But of course you have your marriage certificate. That would proveeverything, " observed Mrs. Farnum, insinuatingly, although she well knewthat she had not. 

"My husband has it. "

"Ah!" and a pitiful smile wreathed the woman's lips as she uttered thisinterpection with significant emphasis. 

"Madam, can you not see that you are driving me mad?" cried Virgie, in anagonized voice. "You have heard something; you are concealing somethingfrom me. For mercy's sake, make an end of this suspense!"

"Answer me one question more. Were there witnesses at your marriage?"

"Yes, four. "

"Four! Who were they?"

Mrs. Farnum asked this question in a somewhat disappointed tone, for ifthe young wife could bring four witnesses to prove her marriage, LadyLinton might well tremble for the success of her plots, though Nevada wasa long distance from England, and there might be some difficulty inproducing them. 

"My father"--a sob checked Virgie's utterance as she mentioned him, andrealized how forlorn her condition would be if the horrible suspicionswhich were being sown in her mind should prove true--"the clergyman whoperformed the ceremony, a woman who lived near us, and our own servant. "

"Then, since you have no tangible proof in your own hands that you are SirWilliam Heath's lawful wife, I advise you to communicate with thosewitnesses without delay, since their testimony alone will serve toestablish your rights and--those of your child, " Mrs. Farnum said, with asolemnity that struck a fearful chill to Virgie's heart. 

"My child!"

It was a startled, anguished cry, and all the mother-love and anxiety wasinstantly aroused for her little one. 

Was it possible that anything was threatening the honor and futurehappiness of her child, who, next to its father, was at once her pride andidol?

"Oh!" she cried, pressing her hands to her throbbing temples, "why willyou talk so in riddles? If you have anything to tell me, in pity speak outbefore I lose my reason!"

"Wait one moment, and I will bring you a letter which I have recentlyreceived, and when I have read it to you, you will understand why I havebeen so skeptical regarding what you have told me, and why I havequestioned you so closely. "

With these words, Mrs. Farnum arose and left the room, while Virgie, almost stunned by the fearful suspicions which had been so artfully thrustupon her, and feeling almost as if a knife had been driven through herheart, sank nerveless and trembling into a chair to await her return. 

The relentless woman was not gone long. The ice was thoroughly broken atlast, and she meant to make quick work of her task now. Lady Linton hadwritten to her that her brother was becoming very impatient at beingdetained so long from his wife; he was nearly ill from anxiety because hedid not hear from her, and she feared he would soon brave everything andgo to her; so whatever was done to separate them eventually, must bequickly done. 

She soon returned, holding in her hand a letter, and a lurid light burnedin her eyes as she glanced at the stricken wife saw how well her blows hadtold. 

"This letter, " she began, seating herself, and drawing some closelywritten pages from their perfumed envelope, "is from Lady Linton, myintimate friend, and Sir William Heath's sister, and you will perceive, asI read, that my authority for what I have told you is indisputable. Perhaps, however, you would prefer to read it yourself, " she concluded, holding it out to her. 

But Virgie made a gesture of dissent. She felt that she had not strengtheven to hold those thin sheets of paper in her trembling hands. 

"Very well; then, I will read it to you; but, my young friend, you must beprepared for some startling news. "

Virgie opened her lips as if to speak, but the words died on them, andMrs. Farnum began:

"My Dear Myra:--You will be glad to learn that mamma is reallybetter--not, of course, as far on the road to convalescence as we coulddesire, but comfortable enough to have had the wedding take place asappointed It would have been too bad if it had to be postponed; sounlucky, you know. We thought once that we should have to put it offindefinitely; but, as mamma could not bear the thought, and Sir Herbertconsenting, provided there should be no excitement, we decided not todisarrange the long-talked-of plans. Will and Margie both behavedbeautifully, and declared they would cheerfully defer everything if mammawas likely to suffer from it; but it was very evident that their happinesswas greatly augmented when told that it would not be necessary. Thewedding occurred on the 28th, in the Heath chapel. It was, of course, veryquiet and unassuming, though the bride was lovely in her robe of whitesatin, exquisitely decorated with Chantilly lace, and wreath of heath, which it has always been the custom for the brides of the house to wear. William looked as noble as ever, and our good old rector made the servicevery impressive not forgetting to mention in his prayer, most touchingly, her who lay ill at home and could not grace with her presence the gladoccasion. There was a very quiet breakfast afterward at Mrs. Stanhope's, after which Will and Margie came over for mamma's congratulations andblessing. 

"They are not going on a journey just now. They will visit London for afew days, and then return here and remain at home for the present. Willseems almost like a boy in his happiness, while Margie is sweeter andprettier than ever. Of course we are all delighted, for we have alwaysbeen so pleased at the prospect of the match, though I was afraid for alittle while that something might happen. I feared there had been somenonsense when William was in America for I came across the photograph ofthe loveliest face I ever saw, one day, while looking over and arranginghis wardrobe after his return. But the old saying proves true--'All's wellthat ends well, ' and I trust there is a brilliant future for the master ofHeathdale. "

There was more pertaining to family matters, which Mrs. Farnum thoughtbest to omit after stealing a look at Virgie. 

Her face was frightful to behold, and for a moment the woman waspositively alarmed at the result of her work. 

She sat like a statue, scarce seeming to breathe; there was not theslightest color in her face or lips, and the expression of agony about hermouth reveiled something of the fearful suffering she was enduring, whilethere was a look in her eyes which her companion never forgot. 

She did not move for several minutes after Mrs. Farnum ceased reading; itwas as if she had suddenly been turned to stone, and was oblivious ofeverything. 

Mrs. Farnum was awed by her appearance, and hardly dared to speak to her, lest, in breaking the spell, the girl should drop dead at her feet. 

But all at once Virgie started; some thought seemed to have come toher--something that made her doubt that the dreadful tidings to which shehad listened were true. 

The letter had spoken of "Will" and "William, " to be sure, and she hadevery reason to suppose that it had referred to the man whom she hadbelieved to be her husband--still there might be a mistake. She grasped atthe straw with the eagerness of a drowning man. 

"Of whom is Lady Linton speaking in her letter, as having been--married?"she demanded, in a hollow voice, and fixing her burning eyes upon hercompanion's face. 

"Why, of William Heath, of course, " returned Mrs. Farnum, greatly relievedto hear her speak once more, "and I have known him all my life. I used tovisit at Heathdale a great deal before Lady Linton's marriage, and he wasalways a favorite of mine. He was a bright, manly fellow, and his friendshave planned great things for him. I--I can hardly credit what you havetold me to-day. I did not dream he could do anything so wrong; butdoubtless he will settle down now, and I shall expect to see him a memberof Parliament; he has everything in his favor. "

"Who is--Margie?" Virgie asked, in the same tone as before, though she hadshivered at the last words of Mrs. Farnum; they were bitterly cruel. 

"Why, Margaret Stanhope--one of the loveliest girls in Hampshire County. She and Will have been engaged for years. You remember that Lady Lintonspoke of their always having been 'pleased with the prospect of thematch. '"

"Oh!" gasped Virgie, clasping her hands over her aching heart, and for amoment everything seemed to fade from her vision, and a great darkness toenvelop her. 

Mrs. Farnum thought she was going to faint; but the weakness passed, andthen she arose in all the majesty of her terrible agony and righteousindignation. 

"Madam, " she began, standing straight and proud before the astonishedwoman, "If what you have told me is true; if Sir William Heath has beenengaged to Margaret Stanhope for years; if he has pretended to marry hersince his return to England, then the greatest wrong that ever wasperpetrated has been done, and he has made a dupe of her and--broken myheart. As sure as there is a just God, I am Sir William Heath's lawfulwife, and He will vindicate me. My child is his daughter, and the heiressof Heathdale, and Margaret Stanhope has been shamefully betrayed. I shallnever allow such a crime to prevail. I shall sail for Liverpool on thevery next steamer, to expose this villainy and to assert my legal rightsand my daughter's claim to her position as a Heath of Heathdale. She, atleast, shall not suffer dishonor, if the lives of two women have beenruined by the villainy of one man. Did he suppose, because England isthree thousand miles from America, that he could perpetrate this wrongwith impunity? I tell you it shall never be! I will face him in the homeof his <i>unimpeachable ancestors, </i> and see if he dares to repudiate hislawful wife!"

Chapter XVI. 

"My Child Is the Heiress of Heathdale!"

Mrs. Farnum looked frightened at Virgie's startling threat, and sherealized at once that she had underrated the character of the woman withwhom she had to deal. 

She saw that she was capable of great decision and prompt action; thatbeneath her gracious sweetness, and gentle, winning manner, there lay areserve force and strength upon which she had not reckoned, and whichwould have to be overcome--if overcome at all--by strategy and deception. 

It would never do for the young wife to set out for England, at least ifthere was any power to prevent it, for it would destroy all theircarefully laid plans, and their hopes for the future. 

It had never occurred to Mrs, Farnum that she would contemplate such aproceeding. 

She knew that she was a stranger and absolutely friendless in the city;there would be no one on whom she could rely to fight her battles. She hadimagined her to be weak and yielding, and that she would sink helplesslybeneath the terrible blows that she had dealt her, that all life andspirit would be crushed out of her, and she would be only too willing tofly from every one whom she knew, and hide herself and her child, withtheir supposed shame, in some remote corner of the earth, and that wouldbe the last of them. 

Then when Sir William should search for her, as of course she knew hewould do, and fail to find her, he could easily be made to believe thatshe had been untrue, and fled from him; a divorce could be readilyobtained to set him free, and thus Sadie, if she played her cards aright, might yet become the mistress of Heathdale. 

But the injured wife's project of going to face her recreant husband, anddemanding to be acknowledged as the lawful mistress of Heathdale, must bedefeated at any cost, and the wily woman immediately set aboutaccomplishing her object. 

"Ah, my poor child!" she began, assuming a sympathetic tone, "one cannotblame you for just indignation at having been so deeply wronged. I neverwould have believed Sir William capable of such dishonor. But surely youwill never think of subjecting yourself to an ordeal so terrible as thatyou have just proposed. "

"Why should I not? Why should I shrink from anything that will right thiswrong? Nothing can hurt me more than I have been hurt to-day, " Virgieanswered, spiritedly, yet with inconceivable bitterness. 

"But think of Sir William's family. They are exceedingly sensitive andproud spirited, and they would never tolerate your claim for an instant;no shadow of dishonor has ever touched them in any way, and they would notendure the scandal. "

"Think of Sir William's family! Why should I consider them? Madam, it ismyself of whom I have to think--myself and my innocent little one; and doyou suppose I will tolerate the indignity which has been offered me? Isnot my good name and that of my child as much at stake, and of as muchvalue as the name of Heath?" Virgie cried, her proud spirit blazing forthin righteous indignation. 

"But Sir William is a peer of the realm. "

"A peer!"

Mrs. Farnum actually cringed beneath the scorn that rang out in the youngwife's tone as she repeated these words:

"And are peers of the realm exempt from all dishonor when they violateevery law, both human and divine?" she continued, with stinging sarcasm. "Does the code of your nobility provide that young and innocent girls, whoare basely betrayed, shall sit tamely down and meekly bear their injuries, so that your peers of the realm can go unscathed? If so, thank heaven thatyour laws do not prevail in this country. You are yourself a mother--youare proud of your beautiful daughter; but think you if she stood in myplace you would advise her to consider the feelings of Sir William'sfamily, to ignore her rights, and shut her eyes to her own injuries, lestshe cast a shadow of dishonor upon their proud escutcheon? And do youthink that I am less of a woman than she--that I am devoid of finesensibilities, of pride and self-respect?"

Mrs. Farnum had winced as under a lash during all this spirited speech. Its scorn and sarcasm stung her keenly, and made her very angry. Shelonged to revenge herself upon the proud girl who had presumed to rankherself along with her daughter, by proclaiming the secret regarding herlife, which she had so cunningly learned in San Francisco. 

But she feared to arouse her further. She realized that she must seek toconciliate her, and try to persuade her not to take the mad journey toEngland which she seemed so bent upon. 

"Oh, no, my poor child, " she began, soothingly; "you do not realize whatyou are saying. Of course, I know it is all very wrong to deceive a girlin any such way, be she high or low, rich or poor. But just consider howyou are situated. You say that your hus--that Sir William has yourmarriage certificate, and you have nothing to prove your statements with, even if you should present yourself at Heathdale. How do you suppose youwould be received there if you should burst in upon them claiming to beSir William's wife and the mistress of Heathdale if you could notsubstantiate your statements? My dear, it would be the blindest folly. "

"But I have his letters!" cried Virgie, eagerly. 

"True, you have his letters, and no doubt his handwriting would beinstantly recognized by his family, But they could not prove yourposition, especially if they are all written after the style of the onewhich you allowed me to read this afternoon, for in all those pages notonce does he speak of you as his wife. You must have something moretangible and conclusive than those, " Mrs. Farnum asserted, confidently. 

All the light died out of Virgie's face as she began to see that therewere terrible difficulties in the way of proving that she was a lawfullywedded wife. 

"I have my ring, " she said, weakly, and holding up the white, delicatehand on which the heavy circlet gleamed, guarded by a brilliant diamond, but which trembled like a reed shaken by the wind. 

"Is it marked with the date of your marriage?" inquired Mrs. Farnum, ananxious gleam in her eye as it rested upon that symbol of wifehood. 

"N-o; it was thoughtlessly neglected at the time, because there were somany other things to be attended to, and--and I could not bear to have ittaken off to rectify the oversight, after it was once put upon my hand, "Virgie confessed, growing white again even to her lips. 

"That was unwise, not to say foolish of you, " said Mrs. Farnum, deprecatingly, but with a throb of exultation. 

"But, " added Virgie, after thinking a moment, "he brought me here as hiswife. The proprietor of this hotel will tell you so. Dr. Knox, myphysician, will tell you so also, as I was introduced to him by my husbandas Mrs. Heath; and there are other people in the house who know it. "

Mrs. Farnum smiled pitifully. 

"My dear, " she said, gravely, "how many of these people do you think wouldbe willing to swear that you are Sir William Heath's wife, if you shouldask them to do so? How many would put their names to a paper certifyingtheir honest conviction that you are, if told the title and position heoccupies in his own country and <i>your history</i> in this?"

Virgie started at these words, and would have asked the woman what sheknew of her history, but she went on as if she had not remarked heremotion:

"If Sir William had brought you here as <i>Lady Heath, </i> registered himselfin his own proper character, and taken you into society thus, there wouldhave been no room for doubt. But instead, what <i>has</i> he done? It is verystrange that your own suspicions have not been aroused by his actions. Hehas registered everywhere as plain 'William Heath and lady. ' Instead ofgoing to the public table, as most of the guests are in the habit ofdoing, he has paid extra rates to have your meals served in your ownrooms, and kept you secluded from almost every one. What construction doyou suppose would be put upon these facts, if they were submitted topeople generally, if----"

"But, Mrs. Farnum, all this was done out of regard for my feelings. I toldyou that we did not wish to be conspicuous while traveling, so my husbanddropped his title. I could not go into society here, and I did not liketo go to the public table where I should be--obliged to meet so manystrangers, " Virgie interrupted, a hot flush rising to her brow, whilethere was a weary, hunted look, in her eyes as the cunning woman continuedto weave her tangled web about her. 

"Of course, <i>I</i> can understand all that, " replied Mrs. Farnum, indulgently, "but how would it appear as evidence if brought up inconnection with your efforts to prove yourself a lawful wife?"

Virgie's heart sank. 

Turned which way she would, everything, as argued and distorted by hercompanion, appeared against her, and for a moment it seemed as if herspirit was crushed within her. 

But at that instant a little cry from the adjoining room fell upon herears, and immediately all her natural pride and energy returned to heraid. 

She straightened herself and lifted her head proudly a look of firmresolve settling upon her face and gleaming in her eyes. 

"There are proofs, " she said, in a low, firm tone, "even though I have notmy marriage certificate and though some people may doubt the truth of whatI assert, and--I will yet have them. My father, who would have been mystrongest helper, is dead, but there are three other witnesses living whocan swear that I am a lawful wife. There must be records also, and, madam, I will move heaven and earth to establish my rightful position in life. "

Mrs. Farnum trembled before this indomitable resolution. 

"And would you be willing to occupy it, even if you could establish it?"she asked, with a covert sneer, "would you force yourself into a positionwhich, appearances go to prove, was never intended to be given to you?Would you force yourself upon a man who had subjected you to the indignityof repudiating you as a wife and put another in your place?"

Virgie's head reeled beneath the force of these cruel questions, and sheswayed dizzily, as if about to fall, for a moment. 

Then again with a mighty effort she recovered herself. 

"No, " she cried, her beautiful lips curling with, scorn, every pulse inher body throbbing with contempt "the chosen mistress of Heathdale maykeep her position after I have proven my right to it, if she prizes itenough to pay the price of her own dishonor; but my child is also thelawful child of Sir William Heath--she is the heiress to all hispossessions and she shall yet occupy the place in the world thatrightfully belongs to her, no matter who else may stand in her path. Itmay take time to accomplish all this, but, mark me, Mrs. Farnum, and tellyour 'proud, unimpeachable family' at Heathdale so, if you choose, itshall be accomplished. "

"Then of course you will not be able to sail immediately for England asyou at first proposed to do, " returned Mrs. Farnum, her heart leaping withjoy as Virgie's words told her that she had changed her mind regarding herfirst threat. 

"No, I can see, now I come to consider the matter, that it would be follyfor me to attempt to gain my rights without being armed with positiveproof of what I assert. It exists, however, though it will necessitatemuch trouble and expense to secure it. Three months hence, however, Ishall hope to have it in my hands, then, let your 'peer of the realm' andhis 'honored family' take warning, for a righteous judgment will surelyovertake them for the wrong which I suffer to-day. Now go--leave me if youplease; you may have meant well in telling me what you have, but, oh! youhave ruined my life and all my hopes, " Virgie concluded, with a moan andgesture full of despair. 

Her strength was failing her; the bitterness of death was upon her and shelonged to be alone, for she could not endure that any one should witnessher cruel humiliation. 

Her last words had galled Mrs. Farnum almost beyond endurance; no doubtbecause she realized that there was so much truth in them, while herthreat regarding a righteous judgment overtaking the family at Heathdalecaused her heart to sink with a sudden dread of disgraceful punishment forherself if ever her complicity in this foul plot should be discovered. 

She arose, cold and stern. 

"<i>I</i> ruin your life, indeed!" she answered, haughtily. "I think you haveno one to thank for that but yourself, for having lent a too willing earto the flattering tongue of a strange young man. "

She swept from the room with a firm step and uplifted head, while Virgiesank prostrate upon the floor, feeling as if her heart had been ruthlesslytrampled upon and all the life and hope crushed out of it. 

Chapter XVII. 

The Last Drop in a Bitter Cup. 

"The girl has more spirit than I gave her credit for, " Mrs. Farnummuttered to herself, as she entered her own rooms after leaving Virgie. "If she persists in her purpose of securing proofs and going to Heathdaleto claim her position, of course it will upset everything. However, shewill not be able to do that at present; she must first take a longjourney, and meantime Miriam will, no doubt, think of some way to preventa <i>denouement</i>. Doubtless the girl will write once more and charge SirWilliam with his perfidy--she is not one to bear tamely such a wrong; butMiriam will be on the watch, and if the little upstart gets no reply, herpride will probably assert itself, and we shall have no more trouble withher, for a while at least. Meantime Sir William may be prevailed upon toget a divorce, and then the way will be clear once more for Sadie. 

"How fortunate, " she added, going on with her soliloquy, "that Will Heathand Margie were married just at this time!--she swallowed that storywhole. Well, I must confess it was calculated to stagger any one, though Iwas almost afraid she had heard something before about the facts; but itseems she had not. "

 * * * * *

The truth regarding the news that Mrs. Farnum had received from LadyLinton, and which the latter had so cunningly utilized to further herscheme to separate her brother and his wife, was this:

Sir William Heath had a cousin who bore the same name as himself, thoughwithout the title, of course. 

He was three years older than the young baronet, and had been named forhis uncle, with the hope that he would be received as the heir in case noson was born to the elder Sir William. But this was not to be. 

From childhood the boy had been attached to his little, neighbor andplaymate, Margaret Stanhope, and they had been engaged for years, as Mrs. Farnum told Virgie. 

But being the son of a younger son, he had had to struggle somewhat forhis education and position in life, and it was only a few months previousto Sir William's return from America that he had succeeded in securing asituation as private secretary to a nobleman, and thus felt that at lasthe had a right to marry the sweet girl whom he had so long and so fondlyloved, and make a home for himself. 

The marriage had been set for the 28th of June, but Lady Heath's suddenand alarming illness, it was feared, would necessitate a postponement. Butwhen she began to improve, and the question being submitted to her, she, having a great fondness for both her nephew and his betrothed, hadinsisted that the marriage should proceed. It accordingly took place inthe chapel at Heathdale, Sir William himself giving away the bride, as herfather was not living. So it will readily be seen that there was asemblance of truth in nearly all that Lady Linton had written to Mrs. Farnurn. 

She had not been quite sure that she would succeed in this part of herscheme, for it might be that Sir William had mentioned the fact of hishaving a cousin by the same name; so she had written her letter in a wayto do no harm in case it did not help her plan. If Virgie did <i>not</i> know, however, she would readily take it for granted that it was her husband whohad been married on the 28th, while the fact that a long engagement hadexisted would seem to prove that he had wilfully deceived her from thefirst, and tend to make her believe that her own marriage had been simplya farce. 

Knowing that the certificate was in Sir William's possession, that Mr. Abbot was dead, and surmising, from their signatures, that two of thewitnesses at least were very ignorant, she hoped, even if Virgie shouldhave sufficient spirit to assert herself that it would be very difficultfor her to collect proofs of a legal marriage. She knew that she couldbring plenty of evidence to prove the fact that they had lived andtraveled together for several months under the name of Mr. And Mrs. Heath, but she did not believe that that would count for very much; it would notbe the first time that such a thing had occurred--young men would sow wildoats occasionally, and though it might wound her pride terribly to haveany scandal arise regarding the matter, yet she could bear that with a farbetter grace than to have an ignorant plebeian from the wilds of Americabecome the mistress of Heathdale. 

Her aim was to estrange and keep the couple separated long enough tosecure a divorce and compromise Sir William with Sadie Farnum, and thenshe would be ready to snap her fingers at all danger for the future. 

Mrs. Farnum wrote immediately to Lady Linton, giving her a full account ofher interview with her despised sister-in-law, while Virgie, as soon asshe could recover sufficient strength and composure to make the effort, also wrote a long letter to Sir William. 

She told him everything, just as if she had not written to him before--howhis letters had suddenly ceased, and how she had waited and hoped to hearfrom him until she had grown weary and heart-sick from his long silence. 

She told of her meeting with the Farnums, and of the wretched story shehad just learned from the elder lady. She begged him for but one word ofcontradiction, and she would believe in him and wait patiently for his owntime for coming to her. But if the terrible tale was true--if he haddeceived her from the first, and had cheated her and her father intobelieving that he was making her really his wife, when it had been only afarce, to tell her plainly, and she would never trouble him again. 

When the letter was finished she went out and posted it herself, to insureits going by the first steamer, and then she tried to school herself towait patiently for a reply. 

But in a day or two she became conscious of a change in the inmates of thehouse toward her. Ladies whom she knew met and passed her with a cold nod, and a bold stare, which brought a scarlet flush to her cheeks. Some, indeed, did not deign to recognize her at all. The servants were lessattentive, almost rude, the clerk and proprietor distant and reserved. 

Too well she understood what it all meant, and there was but one way toaccount for the sudden change in the atmosphere which surrounded her. 

Mrs. Farnum, the only one in the house who could possibly know anythingregarding her history, must have given some hint of her apparentlyquestionable position. 

But there was no redress, for she would not humiliate herself enough toask an explanation; so she could only submit in silence, and bear it withwhat fortitude she could summon to her aid, while she was waiting to hearfrom her husband. 

But she endured agonies during the time, and the days dragged, oh, soheavily by. 

She remained closely in her own rooms, seeing no one save the servants andher own nurse, and devoting herself to the care of her little one. 

At last the day that she had set for a letter to come arrived, and shegrew feverish, almost hysterical while waiting for the mail to bedelivered. 

She heard the clerk going his rounds; he stopped at Mrs. Farnum's door toleave something, and then came on toward her door. Her heart stood stillas he approached. He passed by--there was nothing for her, and her heartwas almost broken. 

She sent the nurse down to the office to ask if there was not somemistake--if Mrs. Heath's mail had not been overlooked. 

"No, there are no letters for <i>Mrs. Heath</i>, " the man answered, with apeculiar emphasis on the name, and an insolent laugh, that made the womanvery angry. 

When she related the circumstance to Virgie, she threw up her arms, with agesture of despair, and cried out:

"Oh! what shall I do?"

She appeared stunned, crushed, and the kind-hearted creature who servedher, and who, of course, had known that something was wrong, was extremelyanxious about her. 

She begged that she might be allowed to send for Dr. Knox; but Virgierefused, with a shudder. She could not bear the thought of the goodphysician learning the story of her desertion and shame, for such, shebegan to feel, must be the true construction to be put upon Sir William'slong absence and silence. 

A little later there came a tap upon her door. She sent the nurse toanswer it, and heard some one say:

"Mrs. Farnum's compliments, and she would like Mrs. Heath to read these, and then return them to her. "

The nurse shut the door, and then came to Virgie, with a letter and paperin her hand. 

For an instant she thought it might be a letter for her, and she seized itwith an eager cry. 

But no; it was addressed to Mrs. Farnum, though it bore the Heathdalepostmark, and was in the handwriting of Lady Linton. 

Virgie grew deathly white, and clutched at her throat, for it seemed as ifshe were suffocating. 

Then she mastered her emotion, and crept away to her chamber to read theletter, for she felt that it contained some fatal news, and she wished noone to witness her suffering as she read it. 

With it convulsively clasped in her hands, she fell upon her knees andsobbed:

"Oh, Heaven, spare me deeper sorrow! oh, do not confirm my shame!"

It was some time before she could compose herself enough to read thatfatal missive, but at length she unfolded it and began to peruse it. 

 * * * * *

"Dear Myra, " the letter began, "you may be surprised by the contents ofthis, but I cannot bring myself to address that person by the name whichshe claims, and so feel compelled to ask you to oblige me by giving her amessage, or, perhaps what would be better, allow her to read this letterfor herself. My brother is away from home just now, and, as my custom isin his absence, I open all letters of a private nature, and act as I judgebest regarding them. The wildest epistle imaginable came to him yesterdayand I was thankful that he was away, for he is so very happy that it musthave shocked him exceedingly and I shall need to communicate its contentsvery delicately to him. 

"That girl of whom you wrote me in your last actually claims to be hislawful wife--believes it, I suppose, poor child--and cannot understand howutterly impossible it would be for any one belonging to an old andhonorable family like ours to ally himself with one so low in the socialscale. I am shocked that my brother should have been guilty of anything soout of character as she represents while he was abroad. I am sincerelysorry for the wrong which it appears he has done her, if what she says istrue, and shall insist that he provide comfortably for her for thefuture; but, of course, the idea that she has a right to come here asmistress is preposterous, and I trust that you will make it appear so toher. Advise her to renounce at once all claim to the name, and settlequietly in some place where she is not known, and perhaps she may be ableto bring up her child in a respectable way, so that its prospects will notbe hampered in the future by its mother's mistake. 

"Will and Margie returned while I was writing to you, and both look sowell and happy that it does my heart good to see them. Of course I had tostop for awhile, but now I will try and finish my letter. I have had aserious talk with my brother, and he appears to feel very much troubledover his American escapade, confessed that he had done wrong, and gave methis hundred pound note, which I inclose for the benefit of the girl; andI sincerely trust she will do nothing more to disturb a happy household, and one which will be very much annoyed by any useless scandal. "

There followed a little more pertaining in an indifferent way to the abovehousehold, but Virgie had read enough, and the letter fell from hernerveless fingers, while she sat staring vacantly before her, her brainalmost turned by the heartless words she had just read, her heart brokenwith its weight of woe, while a feeling of utter wretchedness anddesolation made her long for death to steep her senses in oblivion. 

She forgot all about the paper which had been given her with the letter, while the hundred-pound note, which had been inclosed with it, hadfluttered out unheeded as she drew it from the envelope, and now lay uponthe floor at her feet. 

Later she examined the paper, and found a notice of the marriage ofWilliam Heath and Margaret Stanhope. Whether Lady Linton had been thecause of it to further her schemes, or whether some strange fatality hadoccasioned the mistake, it would be difficult to say, but the paragraphread:

"Married:--On the 28th instant, in the Heath Chapel, Sir William Heath, ofHeathdale, to Miss Margaret Stanhope, only daughter of the late SidneyStanhope. "

Thus was added the last drop to the cup of bitterness which Virgie had todrink. 

There had been a strange mixture of truth and falsehood in the letterwhich Lady Linton wrote to Mrs. Farnum. 

Her brother was away for a day or two on a matter of business whenVirgie's imploring epistle arrived--a circumstance for which his sisterwas most thankful, for it was no trifling matter for her to be always onthe alert to intercept the letters that passed, through the bag atHeathdale. But she had succeeded in accomplishing this by having had anextra key made for the lock and always accompanying the carriage when itwent for the mail. 

This drive she called her "constitutional, " and as the carriage was aclosed one, she could readily unlock the bag and abstract the letters shewanted without being seen, and consequently was never suspected of havinganything to do with the interrupted correspondence of Sir William andVirgie. 

She had also been interrupted while writing to Mrs. Farnum by the returnof her brother and the entrance of her cousin's new wife. Afterward shehad had a talk with Sir William, in which he confessed to feeling greatly"troubled" regarding Virgie and her long, unaccountable silence. He saidhe felt that he had "done wrong" to have left her so long, for, as it hadproved, his mother was gradually though slowly improving, and he mighthave gone and returned without affecting her health; he should see SirHerbert Randal when he came again, and make arrangements to sailimmediately for America. But Lady Linton cunningly provided against thiscalamity by privately informing the physician that her mother was worryingover this threatened departure, and he succeeded in prevailing upon thebaronet to wait a week or two longer. 

Sir William had, indeed, given his sister a hundred-pound note, but it wasfor the benefit of a poor girl who had been crippled by a railwayaccident; and thus all these circumstances being artfully woven into herletter had something of truth in them, and helped to serve the schemingwoman's purpose. 

Chapter XVIII. 

"I Will Prove It. "

It was very fortunate for Virgie that she had a little one at this time, else she would have deemed life scarcely worth the living, so stunned andcrushed was she by the terrible blow that had fallen upon her. 

For two long hours, after reading that letter from Lady Linton, and thepaper containing that paragraph of William Heath's marriage, she lay as ifparalyzed upon her bed. One would hardly believe that she lived at all, but for that look of unutterable woe in her eyes and the expression ofagony about her mouth. 

But she was aroused at last to a sense of her duties and responsibilitiesas a mother, by the crying of little Virgie in the outer room; and yetthat cry was like another dagger plunged into her heart, for it remindedher that, if the dreadful things which she had been told were true, herwhole future was dishonored--that she was a betrayed and deserted womanand her child nameless. 

"Oh, Heaven! it cannot be!" she cried, lifting her arms with a gesture ofdespair and locking her fingers in a convulsive clasp above her head, while her mind went back over the past and reviewed every event that hadoccurred since the beginning of her acquaintance with Sir William Heath. 

She had believed in him so thoroughly, he had seemed so noble and true, so entirely above all deception and double dealing. He had appeared tolove her so devotedly, had been so proud of her as the future mistress ofhis beautiful home, and so supremely happy in the anticipation of thecoming of their little one. He had hoped for a son and heir, and yet hehad expressed no disappointment upon learning that their child was adaughter; he had welcomed the little stranger most tenderly in his letterand fondly named her, to please himself, for her mother. 

He had seemed so impatient and regretful at the thought of leaving her solong alone, and had promised to come to her the moment that he couldsafely leave his mother. 

All this made it very difficult for Virgie to believe in his apparentperfidy and treachery, and yet the evidence against him seemed sooverwhelming that she was convinced in spite of herself. 

She did not dream of a plot against her, for she could not conceive of anymotive for one; but his letters had suddenly ceased and she could notbelieve accident had caused it, when she had written again and againtelling him of it and pleading for but a word from him. 

Then she had heard that story of the engagement to Margaret Stanhope, thenthe account of the marriage at Heathdale, by Lady Linton, who appearedentirely ignorant of her existence even; and taking all this intoconsideration, together with the notice which had appeared in the papersent to Mrs. Farnum she felt obliged to accept the fact of Sir William'sintentional treachery and desertion. 

Yet in the face of everything she clung to the conviction that she was alawful wife--that her child was the heiress of Heathdale; but thedifficulty was to prove it. 

"Prove it? <i>I will prove it</i>, " she cried, and at once all that wasresolute in Virginia Heath's character began to struggle to assert itself, and she went forth from her chamber, at that cry from little Virgie, withan unflinching purpose written upon her heart. 

The nurse cried out in alarm as she saw her white face and sunken eyes. 

"You are ill, madam, " she exclaimed. "Go back to bed--the baby will dowell enough with me. "

"No, I am not ill, " Virgie answered, as she took her little one, but shespoke in a strained, unnatural tone, adding, "I would like you to go toMrs. Farnum's door and say that I desire a 'few moments' interview withher. "

The woman went to do her bidding, but muttered with a troubled look:

"These English people seem to bring nothing but sorrow and mischief to thepoor thing, in spite of their sweet ways and honeyed speeches; I wishthey'd clear out--and whatever her husband can mean to leave her herealone so long and not a line to tell her why is more'n I can make out. "

Mrs. Farnum obeyed Virgie's request with some misgivings; but she saw atonce upon entering the room that the young wife believed the very worst, and she was half frightened at the result of her work. 

Virgie arose as she entered, her baby clasped close in her arms, andhanded her the letter which she had sent her to read. 

"Here is your letter, Mrs. Farnum, " she said, with a cold dignity thatawed her visitor, "and you will find the note inclosed with it. Please beparticular to have it returned to the one who sent it. "

"But, my dear, will you not need it yourself?" interrupted the woman withassumed kindness. 

Virgie's lips curled. 

"It was an unpardonable insult to offer it to me, " she said, with spirit. "I cannot understand how they dared to send it to me in any such way;indeed, I cannot understand a good many things that have come to methrough you. If Sir William Heath has wilfully done me this irreparableinjury he might at least have been man enough to strike the blow himself, rather than employ women to be his emissaries. "

Mrs. Farnum winced. 

"Ah! but you forget--"

"I forget nothing; do you suppose that I could?" cried Virgie, sharply, "but I might at least have been spared this last indignity--to offer me apaltry hundred pounds when he has a fortune in his hands belonging to me. "

"A fortune! I did not suppose--I did not know that you had any money, "stammered Mrs. Farnum, looking blank. 

"My father left me a good many thousands of dollars when he died; it wasall settled upon me at the time of my marriage, but Sir William Heath tookcharge of it and has it now. He deposited five thousand dollars in a bankhere for my use, while he should be away, and the most of that remains;but there is much more that rightly belongs to me, " Virgie explained. 

"Then this hundred pounds surely is your due, " Mrs. Farnum said, as shedrew it from the envelope and held it out to the young wife. 

Virgie drew back haughtily. 

"Do you suppose that I would accept as charity a paltry sum likethat?--for Lady Linton sent it as such, and as a sort of remuneration forwhat I suffer. It is an outrage which I cannot brook, and I am amazed atthe audacity that prompted it. "

So was Mrs. Farnum amazed, and she saw at once that Lady Linton hadunwittingly committed a great blunder. She had never dreamed that Virgiehad had money at the time of her marriage, and she imagined that LadyLinton was also ignorant that her brother had taken back to England afortune belonging to the girl whom they were thus seeking to wrong. 

Matters were getting complicated, and she almost wished that she had neverallowed herself to become involved in them. 

"You should have kept your marriage certificate, " she faltered, "everywife should do that--then you could have proved your claim. "

"I shall prove it yet, " Virgie declared, in a clear, decisive voice. "Doyou imagine I am going to sit tamely down and allow a stigma to rest uponthis innocent child if there is any power on earth to prevent it? In spiteof all that you have told me, or all that your friends have written, I<i>know</i> that I am Sir William Heath's lawful wife. If he committed a rashand impulsive act, and one which he regrets now, while he was in Americaand while he was bound by other ties in England <i>he</i> must suffer theconsequences. I cannot understand how he has <i>dared</i> to perpetrate such afarce, were he a thousand times engaged to Miss Stanhope; how he has daredto so wrong and compromise one of his own countrywomen, for, just so sureas we both live, it will all be exposed sooner or later. All this I willdo for the sake of my child; then----"

"Then?" repeated Mrs. Farnum, leaning eagerly toward the resolute girl. 

"Then <i>I</i> will repudiate <i>him</i>. I will never look upon his face again. Iwill give him his freedom--will divorce myself from him; and then, if thewoman who now believes herself to be his wife wishes it, or will acceptit, he can make the tie between them legal. "

"You will obtain a divorce?" said her companion, with an exultant thrill. 

This was something she had never thought of before She and Lady Linton hadboth hoped to estrange this fond couple, then make Sir William believe inhis wife's infidelity, and work upon his feelings and pride until heshould be willing to seek a divorce; but they had never imagined thatVirgie would be the one to suggest such a measure. Such a preceding on herpart would wonderfully facilitate matters, and Mrs. Farnum, who a fewminutes previous began to be disheartened, was greatly encouraged. 

"Exactly, " Virgie replied. "Do you imagine that I desire to hold SirWilliam Heath unwillingly bound to me? Do you think that I would ever haveconsented to become his wife if I had known that any one had a prior claimupon him? But, are you sure that he was engaged to Miss Stanhope before hecame to America?" the young wife asked, as doubt again arose in her mind. 

"Yes; Will and Margie have been betrothed for years--ten, at least, Ishould say. Did you not read it for yourself in Lady Linton's letter?"Mrs. Farnum returned; but there was a vivid flush on her cheek as shetold the wretched lie, even while she was literally speaking the truth. 

A convulsion of pain passed over Virgie's face. 

"True; but it is all so strange, " she said, wearily. "And I suppose--sheloves him?"

"I believe her life would be ruined if anything should happen to partthem, " said the woman, ruthlessly. 

Any icy shiver ran over Virgie from head to foot, and a low moan escapedher lips. 

No one cared for <i>her</i> ruined life; it was nothing that <i>she</i> was partedforever from the man she adored. 

"I will not part them, " she said, in a hollow tone; "<i>but</i>--"

"Well?" inquired Mrs. Farnum, with a painful thrill, as she paused on theword, with a threatening intonation. 

"A day of reckoning will surely come for him, " Virgie answered, firmly;"for, if this child lives, she will one day make her appearance atHeathdale and claim her heritage. There may be other children, but shewill have the first right there. Tell your Lady Linton this--tell her that'that girl, ' of whom she wrote so slightingly and heartlessly, will liveto educate her child for her position as the mistress of her 'proudancestral home;' tell her to warn her brother that the day of retributionwill not fail to overtake him. "

Virgie was regally beautiful as she stood there before her enemy andpronounced this stern prophecy. There was not an atom of color in herface, but her figure was drawn proudly erect, a sort of majesty in everygraceful curve, while there was a resolute, inflexible purpose in everyline of her beautiful features, and her eyes burned with a steady, relentless fire which told that, if she lived, she would accomplish hervow, let the cost be what it would. 

Mrs. Farnum, woman of the world though she was, felt cowed and abashedbefore her, and when, without waiting for a reply, the wronged wife turnedfrom her and walked, with a firm, unfaltering step, into her chamber, shutting the door after her, she slunk away to her own room, feeling likethe guilty thing she was, and trembling for the future if it should everbe discovered what part she had played in the plot to ruin VirginiaHeath's happiness. 

She was dismayed by the young mother's last words. At first she felttriumphant when she had spoken of her intention of obtaining a divorce, for such a measure would simplify matters greatly; it would relieve LadyLinton from the disagreeable task of trying to persuade her brother toadopt such a course, and thus he would be free, without any effort of hisown, to wed whom he chose, and she had reckoned upon Sadie being thefavored one. 

But she had not taken into consideration the fact that Virgie's childwould have a claim upon Heathdale; no divorce would affect her rightthere, if the legality of Sir William's marriage to Virgie could beproved, and thus endless trouble, to say nothing of the scandal the storywould create, might ensue. 

Still, there were a hundred "ifs" and possibilities in the way. Virgiemight not be able to get satisfactory proofs; the child might not live;she might not live herself to accomplish her object; and she finallyresolved to try to be satisfied with the success of her plot thus far, andnot trouble herself about future developments. But that pale, beautifulface, with that resolute yet heart-broken look upon it, haunted her foryears afterward. She was deeply thankful that Sadie was not there to seeit, and she was resolved that they should not meet again. 

That evening Virgie was waited upon by the proprietor of the house, who, with much stammering and many apologies, informed her that he was obligedto request her to vacate the rooms that she was occupying. 

She understood instantly, but her proud spirit rebelled against this lastindignity, and she arose and stood before him in all the majesty of herinsulted womanhood. 

"Sir! Mr. Eldridge! you will please explain this very extraordinaryrequest, " she said, meeting his eyes with a steady glance. 

Mr. Eldridge hemmed, looked embarrassed, and remarked with all theblandness he could assume:

"Really, Mrs. ----, madam, I regret to pain you, and it might be as wellto avoid explanations. "

"No, sir; that is impossible; my husband left me here with theunderstanding that I should remain here until he came for me, and theremust therefore be some very urgent reason for such a strange proceeding onyour part. "

"Yes, madam, " said the man, driven to the wall. "--I--I have been informedthat--that you are not Mrs. Heath at all; that the gentleman who broughtyou here was not what he represented himself to be. "

"What authority have you for making such a statement Virgie demanded, haughtily:

"This, " answered the hotel keeper, producing the paper containing thenotice of the marriage at Heathdale which Mrs. Farnum had slyly laid uponhis desk, with the marked paragraph uppermost. She was very careful, however, not to appear in the matter to commit herself. 

She had determined to get Virgie away before Sadie's return from ConeyIsland, while she feared, too, the coming of Sir William to investigatethe cause of his wife's long silence. 

One glance was sufficient to tell Virgie what paper it was, and sheflushed to her brow. 

"I see, " she said, scornfully, "those who have professed to be my friendsare leagued against me. "

"But--pardon me--have you no doubts yourself regarding your position?"questioned the landlord, feeling a deep pity for the beautiful woman, inspite of his anxiety regarding the reputation of his house. 

"None, " but the word came hoarsely from the now hueless lips. 

"But you have had no letters for a long time; the gentleman has for yearsbeen engaged to an English lady; this paper gives a notice of his recentmarriage to her, and everything goes to prove that you have been grosslydeceived. It is very unfortunate, but I have received notice from severalof my guests that they will leave to-morrow morning unless I insist uponthis change, and thus it becomes my painful duty to request these rooms tobe vacated. "

This was a bitter blow to add to all the rest, but Virgie, conscious ofher own purity, bore it with Spartan-like heroism. 

She cast one look of scorn upon the man before her, then said, with acalmness that was born of despair:

"Sir, I still assert, in the face of all that you have just said, that Iam the wife of Mr. --yes, of Sir William Heath, of Heathdale, HampshireCounty, England and some day it will be in my power to prove to you thetruth of my words; but I have no wish to occasion you either trouble orloss, so I will go away; to-morrow morning. "

The landlord looked greatly relieved at this assurance and yet he wasimpressed both by her manner and her words. 

He assured her of his sympathy, and kindly offered to assist her inobtaining other rooms and establishing herself in them. 

Virgie quietly declined this offer, however, and, thanking her for herspeedy compliance with his request Mr. Eldridge took his leave, though, tohis credit be it said, with considerable shamefacedness and embarrassment. 

The next morning Virgie sent to Dr. Knox for his bill, paid it, dismissedher nurse, notwithstanding her urgent plea to be retained even at reducedwages, and then she quietly disappeared from the place, leaving no tracebehind her to point to her destination or future plans, and, after thegossip consequent upon such a choice bit of scandal had died away, shewas, for the time at least, forgotten. 

Chapter XIX. 

Sir William Heath Returns To America. 

"I cannot understand it, Miriam. It is the strangest thing in the world, and I shall sail for America on the very next steamer. "

It was Sir William Heath who spoke thus, and there was no mistaking thedecision in his voice. 

He was sitting at the breakfast-table in the large, sunny dining-room atHeathdale, while the open and empty mail-bag lay upon the table besidehim. 

There were several letters scattered around his plate, but these wereunheeded, while the anxious, perplexed look on the baronet's fine facetold that he was deeply troubled about something. 

Lady Linton sat opposite him, and she had been furtively watching himduring his examination of the bag. There were two very bright spots uponher cheeks, which <i>might</i> have been caused by her morning drive to thepost-office; or they might have been produced by a guilty conscience andanxiety regarding her brother's announcement. 

"Then there is no letter for you this morning?" she remarked, trying toappear unconcerned. 

"No; and I am nearly wild with anxiety. I <i>must</i> go to Virgie at once, "Sir William responded, moodily. 

"I do not know how mamma will bear the thought of your going, " Lady Lintonsaid, looking grave. 

"It cannot harm her. Sir Herbert says she is doing very well, and I mighthave gone last week but for the severe cold which she took. I must go, Miriam. My wife is more to me than all the world, and this unaccountablesilence and suspense is unbearable. I am afraid something dreadful hashappened to her, for, just think, I have not heard one word from her sinceshe wrote me after the birth of our little one. "

"Why don't you cable, then? I am going in town this morning, and I willsend a message for you, if you wish, " craftily suggested his sister, whofelt very uncomfortable at the thought of his starting off so suddenly:for he might meet his wife just at the very moment when success was aboutto crown her plans. 

She had heard from Mrs. Farnum only once since her <i>coup d'etat, </i> when shehad given an account of that last interview with the heart-broken wife. The letter had been posted that same day, for the woman had not hoped thatVirgie would leave the house so quickly, even though she knew she wasgoing to be asked to do so; and as she knew her friend would be anxious tolearn the result of her last measure, and as a steamer was to sail thenext morning, she had written immediately. 

"I suppose you might cable and get a reply before a steamer sails, "murmured Sir William, thoughtfully. "It does not seem as if I could waiteven the time it would take for me to get to her. "

"I suppose you <i>are</i> very anxious. It is natural that you should be, "responded Lady Linton, as she broke an egg into her cup and busied herselfseasoning it, although she did not even taste it after it was prepared. Excitement and anxiety had destroyed her appetite. 

Two or three times every week, of late, there had been just such a sceneas this when the mail came in after the arrival of a steamer. 

No letters came from Virgie. At least, <i>he</i> received none; for they wereall cunningly abstracted before the bag came into the house, and SirWilliam did not dream that any one possessed a key to it save himself, andso, of course was unsuspicious of any plot. 

It was simply unaccountable to him, and he was, as he said, almost wildfrom anxiety on account of his dear ones. 

He could not touch his food this morning, his disappointment was so great, and he nervously unfolded his paper and began to look for an announcementof the sailing of some steamer. 

"The Cephalonia will sail on Saturday, " he remarked, at length. "This isWednesday. I shall leave on Friday for Liverpool. You can break the newsto my mother, and I am sure you will do very well without me until myreturn. She must strive to be reasonable, for I cannot live like thisanother week. "

"Very well; I will do my best to keep her cheerful while you are gone, "returned Lady Linton, trying to appear at ease, although she was quakingin mortal fear lest all her plotting should come to naught. 

She sometimes regretted having written that last letter and sent thathundred pounds to Virgie. She began to fear that she might haveoverreached herself by so doing, for, if her brother and his wife shouldmeet, Virgie would of course tell her husband everything, and he would atonce understand that his sister had been guilty of all themischief--intercepted letters, and all. She knew that he would neverforgive her; she would be ignominiously banished from Heathdale, and beobliged to hide herself at Linton Grange, where she would lead a life ofpoverty and seclusion; so it is not strange that she trembled at thethought of Sir William sailing for America. 

"Shall you return at once?" she asked, as they arose from the table. 

"Just as soon as I can possibly arrange to do so; and, Miriam, I want nopains spared to make the home-coming of my wife an agreeable one. "

"You shall be obeyed, " Lady Linton replied, with downcast eyes and aheavily throbbing heart; "but of course you will let me know when toexpect you. "

"Certainly; and the suite of rooms over the library are to be put in orderfor Virgie. "

"Very well; I will speak to the housekeeper about it. "

"You will mention, too, for <i>whom</i> they are being prepared, " Sir Williamsaid, glancing sharply at his sister. "It must be known at once that Ihave a wife and child. I have made a great mistake in allowing you topersuade me to keep silence upon the subject so long. "

"But it was for mamma's sake, you know; while she was so ill it was betternot to have it talked about, " apologized Lady Linton; but she mentallyresolved that she should be in no hurry to tell the secret, even if he hadordered her to do so, at least until she was sure her brother would findhis wife. 

Something might prevent his bringing Virgie home, and in that case ascandal would be avoided if she kept silence. She would wait, at least, until he notified her of the date of his return. 

"It was a mistake, I tell you, " Sir William repeated, with a cloudedbrow. "It has been a mark of disloyalty to my wife which I will tolerateno longer. So please do as I request. "

Lady Linton bowed. 

"Shall I cable for you?" she asked, after a moment of silence. "I shall bein London most of the day, and perhaps I may be able to get a reply tobring you on my return. "

"No, thanks; I, too, shall go in town to-day, to engage my passage, and Iwill attend to the matter myself, " Sir William replied, and the heart ofthe schemer sank within her. 

She had intended to cable to Mrs. Farnum, and, if Virgie was still at thehotel, authorize her to use any strategy to get her away before herbrother should arrive, and then send her a dispatch to suit the emergency. 

But, if he cabled himself, and received an answer from his wife, she hadthe very worst to fear for herself. 

They went up to London on the same train, and Lady Linton suffered agoniesduring that ride, and all day long, while she was shopping, her suspensewas terrible to her. 

But when she entered the station, late in the afternoon, to return toHeathdale, she was both startled and relieved to find her brother alreadythere, and pacing back and forth outside the waiting-room in greatexcitement. 

"Have you news, William?" she faltered, her heart beating almost tosuffocation. 

"Yes, " he answered, in a strained unnatural tone. "Here, read this!" andhe thrust a cablegram into her trembling hands. 

She had hardly strength to unfold the paper, but her pulses bounded withexultation as she read:

 New York, Aug. 10, 18--. 

 "To Sir William Heath, London:

 "Lady Heath left the ------- House on the 2d instant. Do not know her address. 

 Eldred Edlbridge. "

Mr. Eldridge, as we know, was the proprietor of the hotel where Virgiehad been boarding during her husband's absence, and we can imaginesomething of his consternation when he received Sir William's cabledispatch inquiring for his wife, and realized, all too late, the enormityof the insult he had offered to that lady. 

Lady Linton, however, had hard work to conceal her joy over the contentsof the message. 

Virgie had been gone for more than a week, leaving no clew to herwhereabouts, which was evidence enough that she believed the very worst ofher husband, imagined herself a dishonored and deserted woman, and haddoubtless buried herself in some remote corner where no one would belikely to discover her. 

Lady Linton's plot had worked thus far beyond her most sanguineexpectations and she accepted her success as an omen of good for thefuture. 

But she hid all this under a mask of well-assumed surprise. 

"What can it mean? Why should she leave the hotel where you left her?" sheinquired of her brother. 

"Oh, I do not know. There is something wrong--very mysterious--about it. Oh, why is there not a steamer ready to sail this instant? I believe Ishall go mad with this delay!" cried the baronet, in an agony of fear andsuspense. 

But he had to wait until Saturday in spite of his suffering though he hadnot even gone from Heathdale two hours when Lady Linton received a letterbearing the United States postmark. 

Of course it was from Mrs. Farnum, who gave a detailed account of all thathad transpired regarding Virgie's sudden departure, and assuring her thatno one in the hotel suspected her agency in the matter, or had any ideathat she knew anything regarding the girl previous to her coming there. They did not even know that she was from England; she confided that factto Virgie alone, simply to further her schemes regarding her. 

Lady Linton uttered a sigh of relief over this letter. Her brother wouldnot find his wife in New York, and his journey would be all in vain, shetold herself, and yet she would not feel at ease until she had him safelyat home again. 

Sir William thought the voyage across the Atlantic would never end, andyet it was a very quick and prosperous passage. When the steamer touchedher pier in New York he was the first of all the eager passengers tospring ashore, and rushing for a carriage, without even stopping to attendto his baggage, he gave orders to be driven directly to the hotel where hehad left Virgie. 

Mr. Eldridge quaked visibly and grew deadly pale when Sir William suddenlypresented himself in his office and demanded of him the reason of his wifeleaving his house. 

The polite hotel-keeper's blandness all failed him for once, and, withmuch stammering and confusion, with many apologies and excuses, heconfessed that there had arisen a rumor--how he could not say--to theeffect that the lady was not Mrs. Heath at all, that her supposed husbandwas an English nobleman who had deceived her; that his patrons hadinsisted upon her leaving, or they would; and thus, after a hint from himas to how matters stood, she had quietly gone away. 

Sir William was furious at this, and the landlord was actually frightenedat the tempest his story had aroused. 

"And you allowed such a malicious slander to drive a delicate andunprotected woman and her child homeless into the street?" cried thebaronet, with sublime scorn. 

"Ah, sir, I was helpless. The honor of my house must be sustained, andthere was so much evidence to make the story appear true, " said the mandeprecatingly. 

"Evidence! What do you mean?" demanded the angry husband. 

"You had registered as 'Mr. Heath and lady. ' I learned that you were anEnglish baronet. "

"Yes, but what of that? I simply wished to escape being conspicuous, and Ihad a right to register as I chose. "

"Then there was a story that you had taken another wife in England, shortly after leaving America. "

"And were you idiot enough to believe such a contemptible slander, when<i>I</i> brought her here and established her as my honored wife? Did I evertreat her with anything but reverence and respect?" thundered Sir William, growing more and more indignant. 

"No, sir, " confessed the unhappy proprietor, as he drew a paper from hisdesk; "but when you read a notice that I have here you may not wonder somuch at the credulity of people; besides, there were no letters comingfrom you to the lady. "

"No letters!" cried the baronet, in a startled tone. 

"No, sir, although madam wrote to you with every steamer, and seemed sadand depressed to get nothing in return. "

The baronet was astounded. 

It all looked as if there was some treachery at work to ruin theirhappiness; but Sir William racked his brain in vain to solve the riddle. 

He had received no letters from his wife; she had had none from him; and, with that dreadful scandal and rumor to crush her, to say nothing ofhaving been driven from the shelter with which he had provided her, whatmust she not have suffered?

"Will you read this notice, sir?" Mr. Eldridge asked, pushing the papernearer to the baronet, and desiring to intrench himself behind as manybulwarks as possible. 

Sir William bent forward and read it, and he did not wonder then, thatVirgie had felt herself the most wronged of women. 

He knew that it had been intended as the announcement of his cousin'smarriage with Margaret Stanhope, but a grave mistake had been made inprefixing the young man's name with a title, thus making it appear that itwas the baronet who had been married. 

Virgie did not know that he had a relative by the same name, so, ofcourse, taking everything else into consideration, she must have believedthat he had been false to all honor, to his manhood, and to her. 

He groaned aloud. 

"Oh, what must she have thought of me!" he cried, in despair. Then, turning to the proprietor of the hotel, he asked, "Where did you get thispaper?"

It was the Hampshire County <i>Journal</i>, and he wondered how it could havegot to New York to accomplish so much mischief. 

"I cannot say, sir. I found it in my office here among other papers, and--and you must confess that such a notice as that was sufficient tostagger me when I read it. "

"Yes, " Sir William admitted, white to his lips, "and yet it was heartlessto send her away. It was my cousin--a gentleman bearing the same name--whowas married; but some one made a mistake and added my title. Did <i>she</i>see that notice?"

"She appeared to know about it, sir. "

"It seems as if an enemy had done this to ruin our happiness; but who?"groaned the miserable husband. 

Chapter XX. 

Sir William Finds A Trace Of Virgie. 

Sir William asked, a little later, when he had succeeded in somewhatrecovering his composure:

"And have you no idea whither my wife went after leaving here?"

"No, " Mr. Eldridge said. "I offered to find some nice, quiet place forher, but she simply thanked me and declined my offer. She then ordered acarriage and drove away, without giving any definite directions regardingher destination--at least, in my hearing. "

The proprietor was careful not to state that he had been so relieved bythe departure of his then questionable guest that he had taken no pains toascertain her plans, being only too glad to be quit of her upon any terms, and to thus preserve the honor of his house and retain the patronage ofits other occupants. 

Sir William then repaired to the office of Dr. Knox, the physician inwhose care he had left his wife, hoping to glean something from him. Butthat gentleman knew nothing whatever of what had occurred, and appearedgreatly surprised by what the young husband told him. 

He simply stated what we already knew--that Mrs. Heath had sent him a notesaying that she was about leaving the city and wished to settle her bill, and requested him to call for the amount. He had done so, and she had paidhim in full. 

He said that his time was limited, and he had only remained a few moments. He thought she was looking rather pale and worn; but she said she waswell, and, being calm and self-possessed, he did not imagine that she wasin any trouble. 

It was evident that from this source Sir William could gain nothing to aidhim in his search for his wife. 

He then tried to discover the nurse who had been with her, but she was notto be found at her usual address, and no one could tell him anything abouther. 

He went to the bank where he had deposited money for Virgie's use, butdisappointment awaited him here also. He was told that she had sent wordone morning that on a certain day she would need the whole amount due her. She had called according to her appointment, receiving her money, and thatwas all that was known there regarding her movements. 

Sir William was in despair. Failure met him on every hand, and he fearedthe worst for his loved ones. 

He remained in New York for more than a month, searching the city from endto end, employing detectives advertising in the papers, and using everymeans he could think of to gain some clew to Virgie's hiding-place; butall to no purpose; and he finally came to the conclusion that she musthave left the metropolis. But whither had she gone? He knew that she hadnot a friend on this side of the Rocky Mountains; it was all a strangecountry to her. 

Would she be likely to remain East and hide herself and her supposed shamein some obscure place, or would she wander back to the Pacific coast, where everything would be more familiar and home-like to her?

These questions agitated his mind continually, and for a while he knew notwhich way to turn, while he was growing both weary and heart-sick with hisfruitless search. 

Finally he decided that he would go again to her old home among themountains of Nevada. He might possibly learn something of her there. 

He reached the place just a year from the day of his departure withVirgie, and a feeling of utter desolation, almost of despair, tookpossession of him as he wandered here and there over the familiar groundvisiting the grave of Mr. Abbot, and peering in at the cottage where hehad first met his love, but where only strange faces now met his gaze. 

Everything looked the same as when he left, but evidently no one knewanything about his wife; he learned that from the eager inquiries, whichmet him on every side, for the beautiful girl whom he had taken away withhim. 

He answered and evaded them as well as he could, without betraying that hewas in any trouble, but he was deeply disappointed to find that Chi Lu hadleft the place. 

He was told that he had left very suddenly, but came back after a time, when he disposed of his cabin that Sir William had given him, and thendisappeared altogether. 

The baronet sought out Margery Follet, and was impressed the moment thathe saw her that she had something on her mind. 

She eyed him with suspicion, seemed averse to holding any conversationwith him, and never once inquired regarding his wife. 

This alone made the young baronet hope that she knew something of Virgie, for, having been at her wedding, and afterward assisted her in many waysduring Mr. Abbott's last illness, it would have been but natural for herto wish to know something about her. 

By adroitly questioning her he became convinced of the truth of hissuspicion, and finally he charged her outright with having recently seenhis wife. 

The woman stammered, blushed, and finally assumed a defiant attitude, andSir William was sure. 

He then told her something of his trouble, enjoining her to secrecy, andfinally she confessed that one day Chi Lu had come to her and persuadedher to go with him before the county magistrate to sign a paper statingthat she had been a witness to the marriage of Miss Abbot with Mr. Heath. Chi Lu had given her a handsome sum for her trouble and to keep silentabout the matter afterward. 

This confession gave Sir William great hope. It told him that Virgie hadbeen in that vicinity; that she was gathering what proofs she could towardestablishing the legality of her marriage, with a view to claiming herrights as a lawful wife. 

He was very much elated over the discovery, and at once repaired to thecounty town, to seek out the magistrate and learn what he could from him. 

That gentleman confirmed what he had already learned. He said that severalweeks previous a young woman had come there to obtain a copy of the recordof a certain marriage, and that afterward a Chinaman and an elderly womanhad signed a paper in his presence, testifying to having been witnesses ofthe ceremony. 

Sir William reasoned that, since Virgie was seeking all these proofs, shewould doubtless apply to the clergyman who had married them; so toVirginia City he straightway hastened, to seek the Rev. Dr. Thornton. 

He found him readily enough. The clergyman appeared to be in feeblehealth, and received him with coldness and evident displeasure. 

"I suppose you are somewhat at a loss how to account for my visit, Dr. Thornton, " he remarked, in his genial way, and ignoring the frigidness ofhis host's greeting; "but I have come to make some important inquiries ofyou. "

The reverend gentleman simply bowed, and then waited for his guest toproceed. 

"You will be surprised that I have lost my wife and am searching for her, "the baronet continued, thinking it best to come to the point at once. 

"Which one?" demanded the divine, with an accent of scorn in his usuallymild tones. 

"Sir!"

"For which wife are you searching?"

"I have but one wife--the lady to whom you married me only a little morethan a year ago!" Sir William replied in a voice of thunder, his handsomeface flaming with righteous anger, though his heart bounded with new hopeat the question. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " the clergyman replied, seeing at once that therewas some mystery, and there must have been some fearful mistake to causethe separation of these two young people in whom he had been so deeplyinterested. 

"You will understand my untimely sarcasm, perhaps, " he went on, "when Itell you that I have been led to believe that you had done that beautifulwoman the greatest possible wrong. "

He then proceeded to explain all that he knew of the matter. 

Mrs. Heath, he said, had come to him, about a month previous, to secure awritten statement from him to the effect that he had performed themarriage ceremony in a legal and authorized manner between herself and SirWilliam Heath, of Heathdale, Hampshire County, England She was lookingvery sad and ill, and she confided to him that she had been deserted byher husband in New York; he having been called to his home by a cablegram, ostensibly because of his mother's illness, but that she had learned ofhis marriage with another lady in England, and she feared that his unionwith her might have been a farce. She had, however, learned to thecontrary, and she was determined to gather all the proofs possible, forthe purpose of securing the future rights and position of her child. 

Sir William Heath listened in painful silence to this recital, and then inturn related all that he knew regarding the terrible misunderstanding andthe mystery attending it. 

"It looks to me very much as if there was a conspiracy in the matter, anda desire on the part of some one to separate you and your wife, " Dr. Thornton remarked thoughtfully, when the young husband concluded. 

"A conspiracy!" repeated Sir William. 

"Yes; the fact that all letters, on both sides, have been intercepted, seems to point to such a suspicion. Have you any enemies who, frominterested motives, would try to create trouble between you and yourwife?"

"Not that I am aware of, " the young man replied, but looking deeplyperplexed. "My family, to be sure, were not very well pleased with theidea of my marrying an American; but I can think of no one person whocould have accomplished anything like what has occurred. It seems to methat in order to intercept our letters there would need to be conspiratorson both sides of the Atlantic who were interested in the project. "

"Not necessarily. Any one determined to separate you might have robbedthe mail of all letters at either end of the route. It is certainly verymysterious, and, mark my words, you will some day learn that an enemy hasbeen at work. But, Sir William, " the clergyman continued smiling genially, "you have relieved my mind and established my faith in you by thisexplanation. I confess I had set you down as a miserable scamp, and I havesuffered a good deal on that beautiful young woman's account. "

"I cannot blame you for thinking the very worst of me, " returned SirWilliam, with emotion; "but I have loved--I do love my wife with a lovethat can never die. "

"I do not doubt it now. Of course I gave her the paper she desired, andalso a copy of the certificate which I presented you on your marriage day, and told her to command me at any time and I should be at her service totestify to the legality of her claims upon you. "

"Thank you, sir. I am truly grateful to you for your kindness to my poordarling, " said the baronet, tears springing to his eyes. "But can you giveme any idea regarding her plans or movements?"

"No, I cannot, I am sorry to say, " returned Doctor Thornton. "I asked herwhat course she intended to pursue, and she said, in the saddest voice Iever heard, 'I do not exactly know yet; I simply desire to establish therightful claim of my daughter as the heiress of Heathdale. '"

"That looks as if she meant to go immediately to England!" cried SirWilliam, starting excitedly to his feet. "If she should do that, all wouldbe well--everything will be explained, and we shall be happy once more. "

"I cannot say that such was her plan, " returned the clergyman, thoughtfully. "She looked scarcely able to endure such a journey. Still, it may be that such was her intention. "

"Oh, if I only knew! Just think, sir, I have never even seen my child!"cried Sir William, greatly agitated. 

"It is certainly very sad. It is greatly to be regretted that you wererecalled to England as you were, " said Doctor Thornton. 

"Indeed it is. Why <i>did</i> I ever leave her? It was wrong! I fear I wasnegligent of my duty toward her in so doing. I do not know what to do now. If she has gone to England, we have passed each other, and I would desireto retrace my steps thither at once. If she is still here on thiscontinent, I should be in despair to go home, and only find it out on theother side of the ocean. "

Doctor Thornton pitied the young husband sincerely. 

"You are in a very trying position, I must acknowledge, and I do not liketo advise you either to go or stay. You might wait here a while, andnotify your friends to cable you in case Lady Heath should go direct toEngland; then it would be comparatively easy to join her there. "

Sir William determined to act upon these suggestions. He would cableHeathdale to be notified if Virgie should make her appearance there;meantime he would do his utmost to find her here. 

He thanked the clergyman for his kindness, and bade him farewell, feelingmuch relieved regarding his wife, yet still very sad at heart at themystery surrounding her. 

He determined to search for Chi Lu, believing that he alone, who hadalways been so devoted to her, could tell him something definite as to hermovements. He had an idea that he might be even now in her service. 

Chapter XXI. 

Nothing but Death Shall Break the Tie. 

Sir William went directly back to New York, fired with something of hopeby Doctor Thornton's suggestions He determined to search the passengerlists of the different steamer lines, hoping to find Virgie's name amongthem. 

He half believed that, armed with the strong proofs she had secured tosubstantiate the legality of her marriage, she would go directly toEngland to assert her position there as his wife. 

He realized that underneath her habitual quiet and sweetness there lay adignity and strength of character that would stop at nothing legitimate toremove the stigma she believed was resting on her fair name. 

But while he gave her ample credit for resolution and energy, he did notmake allowance for the sensitive pride which had been crushed to the earthby the cruel blow which had been dealt her. He did not stop to considerthat it would never allow her to force herself upon him as an unloved andrejected wife when she believed a more fortunate rival stood in her way. 

But he found nothing in any of the booking offices of the differentsteamers to tell him that Virgie had sailed, or was intending to sail, even though he haunted them daily for three or four weeks. 

Almost discouraged at the end of that time, he cabled to his sister thefollowing message:

 "I have missed my wife--perhaps crossed her path. If she arrives at Heathdale, let me know at once. "

Lady Linton was somewhat startled upon receiving this message, for it toldher that her brother had some reason for thinking that Virgie might be onher way to Heathdale, and, remembering Mrs. Farnum's account of herthreats to claim her position, she began to fear that she had underratedthe girl's spirit, and that she might make her appearance at any momentand demand to be received as the mistress of the house. 

This, of course, would make matters rather complicated and awkward; but, as long as her brother was not at home, she trusted to her own craft todeal with her and make her only too glad to give Heathdale a wide berthshould she show herself there. 

After cabling, Sir William went again to the Pacific coast, in the hope offinding Chi Lu. He spent several weeks in San Francisco, thinking perhapsthose he sought might hope to lose themselves there among the multitude. 

He thought right for once, had he but known it, and had he possessed alittle more patience, been a trifle less restless and feverish in hissearch, he might have succeeded in his quest. 

But he was so wretched; so worn and discouraged with his constant andfruitless seeking, that he could not remain in one place long at a time, and so wandered here and there, until, months having elapsed, he had beenin nearly every State in the Union, reaping only disappointment andanguish of spirit. 

Then there came again a summons for him to go home--his mother had beenstricken with another shock, and, with a heavy heart, a feeling as if allthe world were against him and his whole life ruined, he went back to hisdesolate home and the sick one there. 

Lady Heath only lived a few days after the second return of her son. Hereached Heathdale just in season to see the sands of her life run out andto close her eyes in their last long sleep; then they laid her in thefamily vault, and Sir William felt as if he had nothing now to bind him tohis home. 

"I cannot stay here--I must go away again he said one day, in despair, tohis sister, and her heart sank at his words. 

"Well, I hope you are not going to America again, whatever you do, " sheremarked, with some unpatience. 

"If going to America would result in finding my wife, I would go athousand times over, " Sir William responded, sternly, and then added, witha note of agony in his voice: "Oh, where can my darling have hiddenherself? Miriam, " turning suddenly upon his sister, "can you suggest anyreason for this terrible misunderstanding?--who could have intercepted allof our letters?--who could have conspired, for it seems like a conspiracy, to separate us?"

For a moment Lady Linton turned faint and sick with the fear that he haddiscovered something to arouse his suspicions against her; but secondthought told her that such could not be the case. 

"What could I suggest?" she demanded, assuming an expression of surprise. "You forget that I know nothing of this woman who lured your heart fromus, save what I have been told. She may have had a rustic lover who isseeking his revenge by trying to separate you--a lover who has poisonedher mind against you, and perhaps won her allegiance back to himself. "

"What utter nonsense you are talking, Miriam!" the baronet interrupted, indignantly. "How little you appreciate the refinement of the girl whom Ihave married! True, you have never seen her; but one look at the face thatI have shown you ought to have told you that she could have been won by norustic. "

Lady Linton shrugged her shoulders expressively. 

"As for your letters, " she said, flashing a swift, keen glance at him, "ifyou think they have been tampered with on this side of the Atlantic, Iadvise you to question Robert, since he has the exclusive charge of yourmail-bag. "

"Robert, indeed! I would as soon question my own honesty as his; besides, no one has a key to it but myself, " Sir William asserted, confidently. 

Lady Linton breathed freely now, for it was evident that he had nosuspicion of her. 

"True; and Robert has been faithful too many years to be lightlysuspected, " she remarked, appreciatively. 

"But this suspense is insupportable! It is killing me!" cried her brother, rising, and excitedly pacing the floor. 

"No doubt it is trying, " his sister replied, coldly. 

"Trying!" he repeated, bitterly; "you are very sympathetic, Miriam; youare as cold as ice. "

"Well, William, you know well enough that I never approved of yourmarriage. It was a great blow to both mamma and me that you should marryso out of your element; and therefore you cannot expect me to be soheart-broken over the mysterious disappearance of your wife as I mighthave been if you married--Sadie, for instance. "

"I wish you wouldn't throw Sadie Farnum at me upon every occasion; I neverhad any intention of marrying her, " retorted Sir William, with an angryflush. 

"More is the pity; I could have loved her dearly as a sister, " respondedLady Linton, in an injured tone. "But, " she added, after a thoughtfulpause, "it seems you were mistaken in thinking that your wife wascollecting proofs of her marriage with the intention of coming here toclaim her position. If that had been her plan, doubtless she would havebeen here long ago. "

"Yes--oh! I cannot understand it; but, if I ever discover <i>who</i> has beenat the bottom of this mischief, it will be a sad day for that individual!"cried the' baronet, with stern emphasis. 

Lady Linton suddenly stooped to brush a thread from her black dress, andwhen she sat upright again there was considerable more color than usual inher face. 

"I am troubled to see you so unhappy, William, " she said, more kindly thanshe had yet spoken, "and perhaps, after all, a change will be the bestthing for you. What are your plans?"

"I have none. I simply wish to get away from myself, if that is possible;to steep my troubled thoughts in some excitement. I believe I will go tothe Far East--Egypt, Palestine--anywhere to escape this feeling of utterdesolation, " he answered, dejectedly. 

"When will you go?"

"At once--before the week is out, if I can arrange to do so. "

"Have you any special commands for me to attend to during your absence?"

"None, save that you are to remain here as usual, if you like, and in caseany word comes from my loved ones, send for me at once. "

"Very well. Have you any idea how long you will be away?"

"No. I may not be gone a month; I may stay ten years; it will depend uponhow well I can kill time, " returned Sir William, moodily. 

"Oh, William, I wish you would try and rise above this trouble, " said hissister, out of all patience with him at heart, but speaking in a soothingtone. "I do not like to pain you, but, truly, it looks to me as if yourwife had been guilty of willful desertion in thus hiding herself from you, and I believe there would be a great deal of happiness yet for you if youcould be freed from her entirely, and then bring some good, gentle womanhere to make your home pleasant for you. "

It was the first time that she had ever been able to gather couragesufficient to make this proposition; but she was wholly unprepared for thestorm of wrath which the suggestion brought upon her head. 

Sir William came and stood, tall and stern, before her, his face almostconvulsed with mingled pain and wrath, his eyes blazing dangerously:

"Miriam Linton, " he began, in a suppressed tone, "never dare to open yourlips on such a subject to me again. I married my darling for better orworse, until death should part us, and only my death or hers will everbreak the tie--at least with my consent--that binds us. "

He turned abruptly and left the room as he ceased speaking, more angrywith her than he had ever been before. 

Lady Linton was thoroughly startled by what he had said, and she knew shewould never dare suggest such a measure again to him; but she still had asecret hope, from what Mrs. Farnum had written her, that the injured wifewould seek a legal separation from him. 

She imagined that this might be the reason of Virgie keeping so quiet justat present, and she was all the more willing and glad to have her brothergo away from home, as he proposed doing, because she knew that he wouldhave to be notified whenever any such proceedings should be instituted, and she feared if he were there to receive them he would at once post offto America again, and upset all her plans by bringing about areconcilation at the last moment. 

So in less than a week Sir William left England for, Egypt and the HolyLand, and Lady Linton experienced a feeling of intense relief at hisdeparture. Time, she reasoned, was a great healer, and she hoped much fromthis season of travel and change. 

It was rather lonely for her at Heathdale during the winter, but she wasgrateful to be released from the anxiety she had suffered on his accountfor the last year. 

Spring came, summer passed; a year had come and gone since thedisappearance of her brother's young wife, when one day there came anofficial-looking document addressed to the baronet, and bearing theCalifornia postmark. 

Lady Linton quivered in every nerve as she saw it, for her heart told herinstantly what it contained. 

Still, she could not be satisfied until she knew beyond a doubt, and sheskillfully opened it for examination before forwarding it to her brother. 

It was even as she had hoped. 

Virgie had kept her word; she was about to repudiate her husband for hissupposed faithlessness to her, and Lady Linton's lips curled in a smile ofexultation as she read the paper notifying her brother that proceedingsfor a divorce were about to be instituted in the courts of San Franciscoby Lady Virginia Heath against Sir William Heath, of Heathsdale, England. 

"Everything is working beautifully, " she murmured, triumphantly; "his pridewill never let him seek her after this takes effect; it will be conclusiveevidence to him that she, at least, desires to have the tie that bindsthem broken. Let me see! he is notified to appear on the ninth of nextmonth--in a little more than four weeks. Ha, ha! he was in Alexandria whenhe last wrote, and this could not possibly reach him in season to admit ofhis obeying the summons in time. Matters will have reached a crisis beforehe gets it--the <i>injured and beautiful little savage</i> will have securedher divorce, and my brother will be free, long before he will know whathas been done. However, I will do my duty, and forward it to himinstantly. "

With a lighter heart than she had known for months, the crafty womancarefully resealed the document in a way to defy suspicion that it hadbeen tampered with, inclosed it in another envelope, directed and markedit "important, " and dispatched it by the very next mail to her brother. 

Three months passed and she had heard nothing from him. She began to feelanxious as to how he had received the news of what Virgie was doing, whenthere came another similar-looking document, bearing the same postmark asbefore. 

"The deed is done!" she cried, joyfully, the moment her eyes rested uponit. "I do not even need to open this to be assured of the nature of itscontents. "

She was filled with triumph over the success of all her plans thus far, and yet she could not forget Virgie's threat that a day of retributionwould surely overtake their proud family. 

But she determined not to worry, for the child might not live long enoughfor her to carry her threat into execution. Virgie, herself, might die, and a hundred other things might happen to prevent. 

Her brother might never consent to marry again--she feared he wouldnot--and poor Sadie Farnum's reviving hopes would again be crushed; but, if he did, she felt very sure that her son, Percy--and a noble youngfellow he was, too--would be very likely to inherit Heathdale, whileLillian would doubtless receive a handsome dowry when she came to marry. 

"I do not believe I will send this to William, " she muttered, as sheturned that precious document over and over in her hands, and feasted hereyes upon it. "I will at least wait until I hear something from himregarding the other; these priceless papers might be lost on the way, andthen----"

Her musings were suddenly cut short by a violent ring at the hall bell. 

She started, and sat erect to listen, her face growing pale and anxious, for there seemed to be something ominous in that vigorous jangle whichwent echoing through the house with such an imperious sound. 

The night was raw and stormy; darkness had settled down over the countryearlier than usual; there had been a disagreeable chill in the air allday, and a dismal sense of loneliness pervaded the mansion. 

She heard the butler go to the door; then there was a sudden exclamationof surprise, followed by a few indistinct sentences, a step, strangelyfamiliar, outside the library door, and the next moment Sir William, gaunt, haggard, and wretched, staggered into the room where his sister wassitting. 

Chapter XXII. 

Virgie Makes a Home for Herself. 

"William, " cried Lady Linton, springing excitedly to her feet, thedocument which had caused her so much joy but a moment before droppingunheeded on the table beside her. "What brings you home in thisunceremonious manner? Are you ill? Has anything happened?"

"Am I ill? Yes, by heart is broken--dying within me. Has anythinghappened? My wife is lost to me forever!" he cried, in a hollow tone, ashe sank weakly into a chair and groaned aloud. 

"What can I do for you? Let me call John to remove your boots and bringyou dry clothing, " his sister said, thoroughly alarmed by his appearance;and suiting the action to her words, she rang for the butler. 

John came, and attended to his master's wants with alacrity. Wood waspiled upon the already cheerful fire, something hot was provided thetraveler to drink, and Lady Linton soon had the satisfaction of seeingsomething like warmth and life stealing into her brother's haggard face. 

She understood at once that he must have been nearly crushed uponreceiving the document which she had sent him, and that he had immediatelystarted for home. He must have been taken ill on the way and been detainedelse he would have been there before, and she could imagine how he wouldchafe over the delay, and how heart-sick he had grown over the fact ofbeing too late to stay the proceedings for the divorce. 

She dreaded to have him know that the die was irrevocably cast, althoughhis own words had told her that he apprehended it; but she absolutelyfeared the first passionate outbreak when she should give him those otherpapers that had but just arrived. 

When he began to grow more calm, and to realize the comfort of being oncemore before his own hearthstone Lady Linton stole softly away to conferwith the housekeeper about preparing him something specially tempting forhis supper. 

She was absent perhaps fifteen minutes, and was about to return to him, when she was startled by a heavy fall on the floor above her. 

Her heart told her what had caused it, and she hurried up stairs with allthe speed that fear could lend to her feet, and burst into the library, tofind her brother stretched lifeless upon the floor, an open paper clutchedtightly in his hand, while John, the faithful butler, was bending over himin an agony of terror. 

"Send for Sir Herbert Randal at once, then come back to me, " commanded herladyship, as she stooped to lift her brother's head to place a cushionunder it and loosen his necktie. 

John sped to do her bidding, and during his absence Lady Linton succeededin removing that tell-tale document from Sir William's hand, and lockingit away from all inquisitive eyes; for her first thought was that theremust be no scandal over the affair. 

Few knew of his marriage. She had persisted in keeping still about it, inspite of all his orders to the contrary, and after his return from hisfruitless search for Virgie, he had been far too sensitive upon thesubject to talk of it himself, and thus almost everybody believed him tobe still a single man. Hence Lady Linton's anxiety that nothing should beknown regarding the divorce. 

When John returned to her she summoned other servants and had Sir Williamcarried to his own rooms, where she and the housekeeper applied allremedies that were at hand to revive him. 

When the physician arrived he had recovered from his swoon, but was in araging fever, and wild with delirium. 

Sir Herbert pronounced his illness to be brain fever of a serious type, and Lady Linton knew, from the grave look on the wise man's face, that hehad but very little hope of his recovery. 

 * * * * *

When Virgie left the hotel on the morning after Mr. Eldridge requested herto vacate her rooms, she drove to a quiet street, where she engagedlodgings for a few days, until she could arrange her plans for the future. She then gave notice at the bank where her money was deposited that sheshould draw it all on a certain date. As soon as she received it shepurchased a ticket for San Francisco, and a week from the time ofreceiving Lady Linton's cruel letter she was rolling over the CentralPacific Railroad toward her former home, intent upon only onepurpose--that of gaining indisputable proof of her lawful marriage, inorder to shield her child from wrong and shame. 

She reached a small town only a few miles from her old home among themountains, and then sent a messenger for Chi Lu to come to her. 

He came at once, glad to do anything for the "young missee" whom he hadserved for years, and learned to regard with great affection. 

Virgie felt sure that she could safely confide in him, so she told himsomething of her trouble, and asked him to help her gather the proofs ofher marriage. 

He proved himself very efficient in this respect, and was only too eagerto secure justice for her. 

After all was done, and she had the precious papers in her own hands, shewould have paid him handsomely and sent him hack to the mountains again. But he threw at her feet the money she offered him, and begged to beallowed to go with her wherever she went--to let him work for her and the"little missee, " as he used to in the old days before she went away. "Hedid not want any money--only let him have a little rice and curry, and amat to sleep on, and he would serve her as long as she needed him. "

Virgie was moved to tears by this evidence of his faithfulness, and, though she had not thought of such a thing before, it suddenly occurred toher that it might be a wise proceeding on her part to grant his request. 

She knew that he was entirely trustworthy; he was very capable in manyways, and she was sure she should feel a sense of security and protectionwith him that she could not experience to go alone into a strange place, and have to depend entirely upon herself. 

"I should like to have you, Chi, " she said, thoughtfully, "but I am afraidit would be hardly fair to you, for I haven't a great deal of money, and Ishall have to be very economical. "

Chi Lu's little round black eyes flashed at this. "<i>He</i> takee monee too?"he demanded, with contemptuous emphasis on the pronoun. 

Virgie flushed. She could not bear, from another, the slightest referenceto the wrong she had suffered. 

"How much monee?" the man hastened to add, as he saw that she wastroubled. 

"I have a little over four thousand dollars, " Virgie replied, thinking itbest to fully confide in him. 

Her bills had been heavy in New York, and it had taken the most of onethousand dollars out of the five thousand that Sir William had depositedfor her, to settle them. 

Chi Lu gave a grunt of delight at the information. 

"Good! missee live long. Chi Lu know how; he fix 'em, " he said, with anair of confidence that was reassuring and Virgie believed that he wouldindeed make a better steward of her limited means than she could possiblybe with her inexperience, so she resolved to trust him, and told him thathe should go with her if he wished. 

The next question to settle was regarding a place of residence, and shefinally decided, after talking the matter over with her servant, that shewould be less conspicuous in some large city, and as there was no placeshe knew so well as San Francisco, she resolved to once more make her homein that city. 

These matters decided, Chi Lu went back to the mountains to dispose of hiscabin and settle up his affairs, and when he rejoined his young mistress, they proceeded directly to San Francisco, where the Chinaman soonsucceeded in securing three very comfortable rooms in a quiet and goodlocality. 

Virgie furnished these simply, though prettily, and, when all wascompleted, really felt quite at home, and as if she had at last found ahaven of safety. 

There was a small parlor and bedroom for her own use, a tiny kitchen, witha good-sized closet opening out of it, which was allotted exclusively toChi Lu. 

Virgie soon found that she had indeed done wisely to take her old servantagain into her employ, for he managed everything in a most economical andcomfortable way, while she realized that if she had been obliged to dependwholly upon herself and have the care of her little one besides, herstrength and courage would have both failed her in a little while. 

The younger Lady of Heathdale demanded a great deal of attention duringthat first year of her life, and, being wholly unaccustomed to children, Virgie found the care a great tax upon her. 

They had been in San Francisco some three months, when Chi Lu proposed toVirgie to go into business for himself. 

He told her that he had not half enough to do to keep busy; there was alarge unoccupied room adjoining the building they were in, which he couldsecure for a moderate rent, and he desired to set up the laundry business. 

He wanted to employ two or three of his countrymen to do the work, whilehe simply had charge of it, which he could easily do and attend to hisduties with her at the same time. 

Virgie willingly consented to this arrangement, never once suspecting thatit was a plan on the part of Chi Lu to obtain funds to contribute towardher support when her own resources should fail. She knew that thelittle which he consented to receive from her was but a smallcompensation for the services he rendered her, and she was very glad tohave him make something for himself. 

Thus in the course of time the faithful Chinaman established quite athrifty business, while his face would light up and his small eyes gleamwith satisfaction as he gathered in the dollars day by day, and he mighthave been heard from time to time to mutter, with a gleeful chuckle:

"Good! Muche monee for missee and little missee by'm-by!"

But, as Virgie's baby grew older and capable of amusing herself somewhat, time began to hang heavily on the young mother's hands. 

Her sorrow was one that could not be easily out-grown and sometimes lifeseemed a burden almost too heavy to be borne. Day after day her heartcried out in rebellion against her lonely bitter lot; night after nighther pillow was wet with scalding tears, as for hours she lay weeping forthe love that she had lost. 

She began to realize at last that her health was suffering from suchconstant grieving, and that she must find something to occupy her timemore fully and take her thoughts from herself, or she would soon breakdown beneath such severe mental strain. 

It was after a day of unusual depression and sadness that she took up theevening paper and began carelessly to glance over the columns. 

Suddenly her eyes lighted upon an advertisement. 

It stated that a well-known publishing house of that city offered a prizeof three hundred dollars for the most unique and tasteful design for aChristmas souvenir. It described what was required, mentioned theconditions of its acceptance, and the time when the designs of allcompetitors must be delivered. 

Virgie was interested at once. 

"Why, cannot I do something of that kind?" she murmured "Papa used to saythat I was remarkably skillful in making pen-and-ink sketches, and whyshould I not turn, my talent to some account? If I should succeed it wouldnot only give me something with which to occupy my time, but perhapsenable me to earn for the future; my money is not going to last so verylong, in spite of all Chi Lu's economy. "

The idea pleased her, and she set about putting it into practice at once. 

During the next three months she applied herself diligently and as sheworked she became deeply interested in her occupation. Almost immediatelythere was a change for the better in her health and general appearance Hereye brightened, the lassitude that pervaded her movements disappeared andsomething of her old energy returned to her. 

She wasted no more time in useless brooding and pining; less tears wereshed at night, for, wearied with her close application to her work duringthe day, sleep stole her senses and wrapped her in healthful rest. 

At the time appointed for all competitors to send in their designs, Virgiewas ready to subject her work to criticism. 

She had made three designs, each differing in style and character from theothers, but all so attractive that she felt almost sure they would bringher some return, even if she was not the fortunate winner of the prize. 

Besides these, she had been hard at work upon an idea of her own, whichshe intended to show the publisher, hoping to win his approbation andassistance in bringing it before the public. 

Dressing herself plainly, but with taste, she started out one morning withher treasures, and presenting herself at the publishing house referred to, asked to see the proprietor. 

The gentlemanly clerk led her to a private office, where she found apleasant-looking, elderly gentleman who regarded her a trifle curiously, but greeted her courteously, and then politely asked her business withhim. 

"Some time ago I saw an advertisement in your name, relating to Christmassouvenirs, " Virgie began, "and as this is the date on which they wererequired to be delivered I have brought my contribution for yourinspection. "

The gentleman bowed, but hesitated a moment before replying. 

Virgie's manner and language told him that she was a lady, and he did notlike to say anything to wound her; but the advertisement to which shereferred had distinctly stated that competitors were, under noconsideration to expect a personal interview regarding theircontributions. They were either to be sent by mail or left at the officeuntil an examination by the proprietor should decide who the fortunatewinner of the prize might be. 

"Ah!" he began, "I understand you desire to leave the specimens of yourwork with me. "

Virgie flushed, for his tone was rather frigid. Then she recoveredherself, and her face lighted with her rare, beautiful smile, which wentdirectly to the publisher's heart. 

"Yes, sir, " she answered, laying a package upon his desk. "Of course Iunderstand that I am not to expect a private examination of my work. I hadno intention of annoying you with the matter. I am willing to take mychance with others. But there is another matter upon which I would like toconsult with you if you can spare me a little time. "

She now drew forth a more bulky package from her bag. 

"Some manuscript, perhaps, which you would like examined?" responded thegentleman, glancing at it, but speaking indifferently. 

"No, not manuscript according to the common acceptation of the term; andyet, in reality, I suppose it is. "

"Can you not leave it with me? I will look at it with pleasure later;" buthis tone was not very encouraging. 

"I should prefer not to do so, because there is not very much time betweennow and Christmas, and if you do not approve of it I shall like to take itelsewhere, " Virgie replied, untying the dainty ribbon which bound herpackage, and, removing the wrapper, she laid before him a little bookabout eight inches square and comprising some twenty or thirty pages. 

It was composed of half sheets of the heaviest and nicest of unruledpaper, tied together in three places with beautiful little cords andtassels of pale-blue silk. 

On the cover, in a lovely design composed of mountain ferns, mostexquisitely executed, there was written, in a dainty hand, thetitle--"Gleanings from the Heights. "

The gentleman uttered a low exclamation of pleasure as his eye fell uponthis. 

His attention was riveted; there was no indifference in his manner now. 

Chapter XXIII. 

A Mysterious Stranger. 

"Did you do this?" Mr. Knight, the publisher, asked, looking up after aclose examination of the dainty cover. 

"Yes, sir, " Virgie answered, with a quiet smile, and, seeing that she hadgained her point, that he would not leave it until he had seen the whole, she sat down near him to await his verdict. 

Page after page was turned and on each there was a lovely group ofmountain foliage, flowers, or ferns, all beautifully executed in pen andink, while underneath the design, or cunningly woven around it, waswritten, in a dainty hand, some appropriate verse or couplet, quotationsfrom various authors, with now and then a bit of real heart rhyme that hadbeen the outgrowth of Virgie's own sad experiences. 

Everything, as the title indicated, had been taken from themountains--from those heights where she had spent the last few years ofher life. 

It had been her custom, after gathering the wild, beautiful things, tocarefully arrange them and then copy them upon paper. 

This amusement had served to pass away many an otherwise tedious hour, andshe had a portfolio full of these charming designs, which were likely toprove of great value to her in the future, as we shall see. 

Mr. Knight took ample time for his examination of her work, so much, indeed, that Virgie began to grow weary and anxious to get back to herlittle one. 

But at last the gentleman leaned back in his chair, took off hisspectacles, and turned his keen, searching glance full upon his visitor'sface. 

"Madam, " he said, "it is not my custom to speak extravagantly upon anysubject; but I am bound to admit that this is the finest thing of its kindthat it has ever been my privilege to examine. "

A beautiful color sprang into Virgie's cheeks at this high praise. She hadknown that her work was well done, but she had not expected to be told ofit quite so frankly or emphatically. 

She bowed, and murmured her thanks for his appreciation

"What do you want to do with it?" Mr. Knight asked. 

"Get it published as a holiday souvenir, and make it pay me a handsome sumfor my trouble, " Virgie responded, in a business-like tone, and then washalf-frightened at her own boldness. 

The publisher's eyes twinkled with amusement. 

"What would you consider a handsome sum?" he inquired. 

Virgie thought a moment; then she replied:

"You have offered one, two, and three hundred dollars as prizes for thesimple souvenirs described in your advertisement, and surely a work likethis must be worth much more. "

"Very true; but will you name some price for it? I confess that I shouldlike to take it, if you do not value it <i>too</i> highly. "

Virgie was astonished at this. 

She had not expected to be allowed to name her own price. She hadsupposed, if her work was approved at all, to receive some moderate offer, which she could accept or decline as she saw fit. 

But she shrank from setting a value upon her work. It was her firsteffort, and she had no more idea of its worth, as a work of art, than achild. 

"Sir, " she returned, "I will tell you frankly that I never did anything ofthe kind before; that is, I have never attempted to <i>dispose</i> of any of mywork and I do not know what it ought to bring me. I have been suddenlythrown upon my own resources, and it occurred to me that I might turn myone talent to some account. "

"Your 'one talent' will prove a very valuable one, if rightly employed, "interposed the publisher, smiling. 

"Thank you, " returned Virgie, flushing again. "And now, since my littlebook pleases you, will you kindly make me an offer?"

"Well, Miss ---- What shall I call you, please? I like to know the namesof people with whom I am dealing, " Mr. Knight observed, with abusiness-like air. 

A sudden shock went over Virgie, making her tingle to her finger-tips atthis question. 

It was the first time that she had been asked to give her name sincecoming to San Francisco. 

She had lived so like a recluse that there had been no occasion, and shehad never decided what she would be called. She could not use herhusband's name. 

If she had more time to think she might have answered the publisherdifferently; but, as it was, she said, hastily, and not without someconfusion:

"My name is Mrs. --Alexander. "

Mr. Knight started slightly, and threw a searching glance at her. 

"Alexander! Ah, I used to know--But, pardon me; I was about to make you anoffer, I believe. "

He seemed to consider a moment, then continued:

"I will give you five hundred dollars for this little work, just as itstands, and if it proves to be a success after it is published, I will addten per cent, of the sales to that amount. "

Virgie could scarcely credit her hearing at this generous offer. 

She had never dreamed of anything like it, and bright visions of futureprosperity for herself and her child, attained through her own efforts, alone, flitted through her mind. 

But she did not lose her self-possession or betray her excessive delightat the unexpected proposal. 

"What am I to understand by your words, 'if it proves a success?'" sheasked. 

Again the publisher's eyes twinkled. 

He knew that she was a novice in dealing with business men, but he sawthat she was shrewd and practical, and, finding her talent valuable, meantto make the most of it. 

He meant, however, to do so well by her that she would be satisfied togive her services exclusively to him. 

"Well, " he replied, "if the sales reach a thousand copies I shall considerthe book a success. "

He knew well enough, if he could get it out in season, he could easilysell three times that number for it was a wonderfully unique andattractive affair. 

"More than that, " he continued, "if you are pleased to accept my offer, Ishould like to engage you to prepare two or three designs of a similarcharacter for the Easter trade. "

Virgie was not proof against all this good fortune. Her lips trembled, andshe was very near breaking down. 

It seemed almost as if heaven had suddenly opened and sent her a kindfriend in the midst of her darkness and trouble. 

"You are very kind, sir; I feel that you have made me a most liberaloffer, and I accept it most gratefully, " she said. 

Something in her tone--a sort of hopeless cadence mingling with thegratitude, as if with all this good fortune there were a lurking despairin her heart--touched the gentleman deeply. 

He was becoming greatly interested in this beautiful woman, who, with thatlook of heart-broken sadness in her violet eyes, and that grieved droopabout her sweet mouth, he believed must have some thrilling historyconnected with her young life. 

"Then, Mrs. Alexander, do your best, and give me something especially nicefor Easter, " he returned, brightly, and appearing not to notice heremotion. 

He arose as he spoke, and took leave of her with a cordial handshake, saying that she would hear from him again soon regarding her otherdesigns, and Virgie went on her homeward way with more of hope andcourage than she had known since her great trouble came upon her. 

She had nearly reached the street where she lived, when something occurredto give her a fearful start. 

In turning a corner she suddenly came face to face with a man who waswrapped in a heavy circular cape, its collar turned up close about hisface and concealing the whole lower portion of it. He wore a wide-brimmedhat that was drawn down over his brow, so that, with the collar and hattogether, scarcely anything of his countenance was visible save a pair ofpiercing black eyes, and a long, sharp nose. 

As Virgie met those eyes, which were fixed upon her with an eager, questioning look, she had difficulty in repressing a scream of fear andsurprise. 

The next moment, however, she recovered herself, and passed him as if hehad been an utter stranger; but, though outwardly calm and indifferent, she was trembling in every limb, while a sense of weakness caused by theshock she had received, made it seem as if she could not go on her way. 

But she knew it would not do for her to stop, for a sidelong glance overher shoulder and the sound of a step behind her told her that the muffledfigure was following her, evidently with the intention of accosting her. 

"How dare he come back here? It cannot be that he knows me after all theseyears, " she said to herself as she quickened her pace and sped on towardher home. 

Then a sudden thought smote her. 

"He must not know where I live, if it <i>is</i> he, and I am sure I cannot bemistaken, for those eyes are like no others in the world. What shall Ido?"

She was rapidly nearing her own door, but a sudden purpose impelled herto keep on and go straight by, without even a pause or a look that way. 

A block or two beyond she came to a store where she sometimes went topurchase articles that she needed She entered, and going to a counter, called for the first thing she could think of, but kept her eye on thedoor to see if the man had followed her. 

Yes, there could be no doubt that her steps were dogged, for the manpassed even as she looked. 

His keen glance searched her out immediately; then he paused, turned, andwalked slowly back. 

The store was on a corner, and there were two entrances to it--one on thefront, one at the side. 

Virgie paid for her purchase, then worked her way around, going fromcounter to counter, until she reached the side entrance, when she wentslyly out, waited until she saw a car approaching, hailed it, and inanother moment went rolling down the street, believing that she had eludedthe keen eyes that were on the watch for her. 

Not so, however; for the man, having heard the car stop, darted around thecorner, and espied her in it just as it was about turning into anotherstreet. 

He could not overtake it, and with a muttered expression of annoyance, hewas obliged to wait for the next one. But he saw no more of Virgie thatday, for she took a transfer, and when about a mile from her home changedcars and at length reached her own door, confident that she had escapedher pursuer for that time. 

A day or two afterward she saw a personal in one of the daily papers thatboth puzzled and alarmed her. 

F. V. A. , whom I met on the corner of W. And C. Streets, will communicatewith M. A. , Lock Box 95, she will learn something to her advantage. 

This was the advertisement, and Virgie knew at once that she had beenrecognized by that man muffled in the cloak. 

"That means me, " she said, growing deadly white, "and I was not mistaken. <i>He</i> has come back. How dare he? What can he want of me? But I will neversee him. I will have nothing to say to him. I will hide myself from him. It is evident he has not discovered where I live, else he would have beenhere before this, and I will take care that he does not find me out. "

After that she was very careful about going out, always closely veilingher face, and wearing a long circular to conceal her form, when she wasobliged to do so, which was not often, as, with rare exceptions, herbusiness with Mr. Knight could be mostly transacted by correspondence. 

Thus several months passed without her seeing or hearing anything more ofthe person who had so disturbed her, until at last she believed he musthave left the city, and she gave herself no further concern about him. 

Chapter XXIV. 

The Tie Is Broken. 

There was no lack of employment now for Virgie. She had plenty to occupyheart, and brain, and hands, and of such a congenial nature that shereaped great benefit from it both mentally and physically. 

Of course nothing could ever blot out from her memory the terrible troubleand suffering that she had had to endure, but her work brought its ownenjoyment so that she no longer spent such wretched days and nights asformerly. Her baby was every day growing interesting and a source of greatcomfort to her, while her life generally was tending to bring out thelatent qualities of her character, the energy and self-reliance, the skilland talent which otherwise might never have developed into activity. 

More than a year went by, while every month she was earning a handsomesum, having been permanently engaged by Mr. Knight to keep him suppliedwith those novelties which she was so skillful in originating. 

Her "Gleanings from the Heights" proved a great success, selling fasterthan the firm could issue them. Besides this she had been awarded thefirst prize on the other souvenirs, so that, pecuniarily, she had nothingto fear for the future. 

And now she set about another undertaking which she had long contemplated;that of obtaining a divorce from her husband. 

She did not take this step because she had any desire to break the tiethat bound her to him, and she would never have moved in the matter at allbut for the fact that others had assailed her fair name and assumed thather child was dishonored. 

Her chief aim, in collecting the proofs of the legality of her marriage, had been to secure to little Virgie the right to the name she bore, and anindisputable title to her inheritance by and by when she should be of asuitable age to claim and enjoy it. 

She meant to give her every advantage as she grew older, and do everythingpossible to fit her for a high position in life; and when, at length, sheshould reach her majority, she would claim her rights and take care thatshe secured them in spite of all opposition. 

This was all the revenge that Virgie ever intended to take for the wrongthat she believed herself to have suffered at her husband's hands. Shewould scorn to accept anything for herself, but the lawful position of herdaughter must and <i>should</i> be recognized. 

Her residence of a year in San Francisco had given her the right to applyto the court to have her marriage bonds annulled, and she put her caseinto the hands of a competent lawyer, recommended by Mr. Knight, to whomshe had confided something of her history, and solicited his adviceregarding the matter. 

He had advised her not to take any legal proceedings until she had triedto confer with Sir William again. 

"There is some mistake, I feel sure, " he said, "some misunderstandingwhich might be explained if proper measures were adopted. "

"A mistake!" repeated Virgie, scornfully, her eyes blazing withindignation. "I imagine that the only mistake about the whole matter isthat I allowed myself to become the dupe of an unprincipled man. "

"It can at least do no harm to write him what your intentions are, "suggested Mr. Knight, mildly. 

"I wrote him letter after letter while I was in New York. Mrs. Farnum, ofwhom I have told you, knew the whole family, and wrote of me to LadyLinton, but they appeared to be in total ignorance of even my existence, while Mrs. Farnum asserted that Sir William had been engaged for years toMiss Stanhope, and I have already told you of his subsequent marriage withher. "

"Still I cannot comprehend how he should dare to commit such a wrong, "persisted Mr. Knight. "He must have known that his marriage with you waslegal, according to the laws of the State in which it occurred, and themere fact of his leaving the country could not annul it. If he had assumeda name while he was here, it would not seem so inexplicable, but all thepapers which you hold go to show that he married you under his own nameand title; while your description of the character of the man makes itseem utterly impossible that he should be guilty of such conduct. "

"True. When I think of that, I am heart-broken, " said Virgie, breakingdown for a moment. "He seemed so true and noble in every respect, and hewas particular to have his title appear in the certificate, although hedid not adopt it while traveling because he found he was less conspicuousas plain Mr. Heath. "

"It almost seems to me as if some plot had been laid to separate you, "said Mr. Knight, thoughtfully. 

"Impossible! How could such a thing be?" queried Virgie, skeptically. "Whowould plot against us?"

"Your letters on both sides may have been intercepted by some enemy withthat end in view. "

"He has no enemy that I am aware of; neither have I. I did not know asingle individual when I went to New York, so there was no one there whowould be likely to meddle with our correspondence. More than this, if hedid not hear from me, and was true to me, or had possessed an atom ofaffection for his child, it is but natural to suppose that he would havetaken prompt measures to ascertain what the trouble was. No; the more Idwell upon it, the more I am convinced that what he has done was a schemeto secure my property, and then leave me to my fate. I can think of noother object that he could have had. "

Alas! Virgie realized long after how she had wronged a noble man withthese dreadful suspicions, and even while she was giving utterance tothem, her heart was heavy with a sense of injustice done the man whom, even then, she loved most fondly. 

Mr. Knight shook his head in a doubtful manner at her last words, and yethe looked perplexed. 

"You think I am too hard, " Virgie continued, bitterly "but does not eventhe provision which he made for me before leaving New York look as if hedid not intend to return to me?"

"You refer to the five thousand dollars which he deposited for you; it wasa very generous amount, truly. "

Of course I could not begin to use such a sum in the few weeks that hepretended he should be away; while the additional five hundred dollarswhich he sent me through his sister goes to prove that he had no intentionof ever coming back to me, yet did not wish me to suffer for lack ofmeans. "

"I do not like the aspect of that transaction at all, " responded Mr. Knight, emphatically. "It looks to me as if his sister had had more to dowith the matter than rightly belonged to her. Who knows but what she mayhave been opposed to her brother's marriage and has been at the bottom ofall the trouble?" he concluded, reasoning with a shrewdness which he didnot realize. 

But Virgie could not be convinced. 

"I do not believe that, " she said, with a sigh; "it looks to me as if hewas ashamed--conscience-smitten--and did not have the moral courage tocommunicate with me himself. "

Yet, even as she said it, she knew that such a course was utterly atvariance with his character, as she had known it. 

"Well, Mrs. Alexander--or Mrs. Heath, I suppose I ought to call you--Iwill not say more to dissuade you from your purpose; but let me adviseyou, as a sincere friend, to go to England and ascertain for yourself justhow matters are, before you proceed any further. "

Virgie started to her feet, with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes. 

"Go to England!--to Heathdale! to find another woman queening it there in<i>my</i> place!--to be brow-beaten and insulted by that proud family!--to bedisowned by the man who has already wronged me beyond all forgiveness!Never, sir!"

"You could at least demand your own--the money that your father left you. "

"And do you suppose I should get it? I have no proof that my father everleft me a dollar. Sir William has every paper in his own possession. Ihave not a scrap even that would enable me to wrest so much as a poundfrom him as my right. "

Mr. Knight looked grave. Certainly matters were not very promising for theinjured wife. 

"Well, it is the most incomprehensible affair that I ever heard of, " hesaid. "I still think, though, that a personal interview would be the wisercourse before proceeding further. However, a proper notice will have to beserved upon the man, and if there has been any misunderstanding, or he hasany desire to contest your appeal for a divorce, he will probably make itapparent when the right time comes. And now, regarding the best counselfor you, I think my friend, Templeton would work well for you, and securea bill with as little notoriety as any one. "

Virgie shivered at this business-like talk of "a bill. " It was almost likesevering soul from body to break the sacred tie that bound her to the manshe so fondly loved, and nothing save the belief that another wasoccupying the place that rightly belonged to her could have induced her totake such a step. 

She applied to Mr. Templeton, as Mr. Knight advised He, too, counseledfurther intercourse with the baronet, for, to his keen mind, also, thewhole affair appeared more like a conspiracy on the part of enemies than awillful wrong perpetrated by the husband. 

But Virgie utterly refused to hold any communication with Sir William. 

"He will have to be notified regarding the proceedings about to beinstituted against him, " she said, "and if he is guiltless of wrong hewill surely hasten to make it apparent. "

In spite of her obstinate refusal to make further overtures, something ofhope had been revived in her heart by the united opinions of Mr. Knightand her lawyer that some enemy had plotted to separate her from herhusband. She remembered what Mrs. Farnum had told her about the pride ofhis family, and it might be there was some foundation for the belief ofthe two gentlemen. She could understand how that might possibly be thecase as far as intercepting their letters was concerned, but those otherfacts of the long engagement and the marriage with Miss Stanhope werethings which she could not explain by any reasoning. 

Still she kept hoping for some word during the time that intervenedbetween the notification and the day set for the hearing of the case. Dayafter day she waited and watched for some tidings from her husbandstarting at every unusual sound, growing almost faint at the opening andshutting of a door, and even imagining she saw a familiar form as she satat her window and eagerly scanned every passer-by. 

She grew thin and pale with this dreadful suspense; she seemed to beconsuming with fever, and was so restless and nervous that her friend, Mr. Knight, feared that her mind might suffer from such tension. 

She hoped until the last moment, although she tried to conceal it, butwhen the dreaded day arrived, when her case was presented and there wasno one to contest it; when the judge rendered his decision, declaring thather marriage was null and void, that henceforth in the eyes of the law andthe world she was free from the man to whom she had solemnly promised tocling until death should part them, her courage and strength forsook her, and she was carried lifeless from the court-room, while for three weeksafterward she lay weak and ill, and almost indifferent to life. 

The only grain of comfort in this time of woe was derived from the factthat the child had been given to her, and she had no fear of ever havingit taken from her, even if Sir William should ever be moved to a desire tohave her. 

For a time she seemed wholly unlike herself; but the kind-heartedpublisher knew that the best antidote for all kinds of trouble is work, and he kept her crowded with orders, until she felt obliged to rally herfailing energies and to take up the burdens of life once more. 

Thus the winter passed; but, when summer came again, little Virgie beganto droop in the noisome atmosphere of the city, and the physician said shemust be taken where she could have purer air and country living; so Virgiewent to a quiet little place a few miles out of the city, where sheremained the entire season, not returning to San Francisco until late inOctober, and thus a cruel fate again seemed to mock her, for during herabsence Sir William Heath had come to seek her again, and not finding her, he, too, had grown heart-sick with despair and hope deferred. 

Chapter XXV. 

Sir William Becomes Guardian. 

Very distressing were the thoughts of the young baronet, who had sosuddenly returned to his home and been stricken with illness. 

He had been sick at Alexandria when he received the document notifying himthat Virgie was seeking a divorce. 

He was absolutely paralyzed as he read it, and saw by the date that itwould be utterly impossible for him to reach America in time to stay theproceedings. 

He could not even reach England in season to cable for that purpose, andhe was so overcome by the knowledge and his own helplessness, as to renderhim unable to travel for a couple of weeks longer. 

One thing gave him some satisfaction. He at least knew that Virgie was inSan Francisco, and that she must have been residing in the State for sometime to allow her the right to apply for the divorce there. She must havebeen there even while he was there searching for her, and it seemedterribly cruel to him that he should have missed her. 

But he resolved that he would find her yet, if she lived. Poor darling!what a bitter lot had been hers during this last year, believing what shemust of him. It should not go on, however; he would seek her and vindicatehimself; he would prove to her that he had never wavered in his truth toher in spite of all the evidence against him. He would prove his love forher, and he would win her again, even though the dread decree had beenpronounced, bring her back with him to Heathdale, and they would be happyyet. 

And his child--the precious little one whom he had never seen--his heartcried out for her with an uncontrollable yearning--his baby! his miniatureVirgie!

Thus, as we already know, he went directly to Heathdale where he arrivedon the very evening that Lady Linton had received the papers announcingthat his wife had secured a decree of divorce. 

He was very wretched in spite of his sister's hearty welcome and effortsto render him comfortable; and during her absence from the room to seethat something unusually nice should be prepared for him, anxious, bitterthoughts crowded his mind, and he rebelled against the arbitrary wearinessand lassitude that bound him, as with chains of iron, and compelled him torest. 

Gradually, however, his glance began to wander over the familiar room, lingering now upon some picture, now upon some rare article of virtu, eachendeared by peculiar associations, until at length it rested upon thetable and that document, which his sister had dropped and forgotten in hersurprise at his appearance. 

Its likeness to the one he had previously received startled him. 

He arose and went forward to examine it. Its postmark told him at oncewhence it had come. 

A deathly paleness overspread his face; a horrible numbness fell upon hisheart. 

With trembling hands he tore it open, and one glance was sufficient totell him the nature of its contents. 

It was the one bitter blow too much, even though he had half-expected it, and, with a despairing cry that would have melted the hardest heart, "Lost! lost! Virgie, my love! my love!" he fell prone upon the floor, clutching that fatal paper in his grasp. 

Long weeks of watching and anxiety followed--weeks during which LadyLinton began to fear that she was paying dearly for her plotting andtreachery, even though her son might become the master of Heathdale in theevent of her brother's death. 

But he did not die. His constitution was naturally rugged, and by the endof winter, after many alternations of hope and fear, he slowly began torally. 

As soon as he was able to be dressed and sit up he began to talk of goingagain to America. 

Of course Sir Herbert Randal vetoed such a proposition at once. 

"You are not to stir outside the grounds of Heathdale for three months atleast, " he said, decidedly. 

"But I must, Sir Herbert. You have no idea how much is at stake, " the sickman pleaded. 

"You must not. I cannot help how much there is at stake, " returned thephysician, firmly. "I have had hard work to get you up, even so far, fromthis nervous prostration and the least excitement or imprudence will causea dangerous relapse. "

And so, with despair at his heart, Sir William was obliged to submit. 

He tried to write to Virgie, intending to send the letter to her throughthe lawyer whom she had employed and whose name had appeared in connectionwith the papers he had received, but he could not; he found that his brainwas too weak to permit of the framing of even a sentence, and he knew thathe could never plead his cause successfully in such a state. 

He shrank from asking any one else to write for him; his sister he knewwas not in sympathy with him, and he would not confide in her. 

When his mind had become strong enough to realize what was going on abouthim, he had one day asked Lady Linton to bring him both documents that hadcome to him from America. 

She obeyed him, making no comment, though her manner betrayed that sheknew well enough their character. 

He told her to lock them in a certain drawer which no one was ever allowedto open save himself. 

She did so in his presence, and earnestly hoped, as the key clicked uponthem, that that episode in her brother's life was buried for all time. 

But she was not long in finding that she was to be disappointed

As summer advanced Sir William gained more rapidly and by August he waspronounced comparatively well, although he was still but the ghost of hisformer self. 

Then he announced his determination of again crossing the Atlantic, andLady Linton's heart failed her. Would he never relinquish his chase afterthat miserable girl?

She earnestly pleaded that he would not leave home again. 

"I must, " he replied, sternly. "I must find my wife. "

"Your wife!" she retorted, losing all patience; "you have no wife. "

"Be still, Miriam, " he commanded, growing frightfully pale. "I see thatyou know what has occurred, and though the law may have succeeded inbreaking the tie between us, yet in my heart I claim Virgie as my wifejust as truly to-day as she ever was. I will search the world over forher; if I find her the law will give her to me again, for I believe thatshe is still true to me, whatever she may think of me; if I do <i>not</i> findher, I shall live and die cherishing her image alone. "

Lady Linton knew that he meant what he said. 

"That will be bad for Sadie's hopes, " she thought; "but doubtless Percywill be the gainer, unless he succeeds in finding that girl. I neverbelieved his pride would let him go chasing after her like this. "

The last of August found him again on the ocean. 

The voyage proved beneficial, and he was in much better health andstrength when he landed in New York than when he left England. 

He proceeded directly to San Francisco as fast as steam and wheels couldtake him, determined to seek out Mr. Templeton, Virgie's lawyer, who, hebelieved, would tell him where she could be found. 

But a terrible disappointment awaited him there. 

Mr. Templeton had retired from business at the beginning of summer, and, with his family, had gone abroad for an indefinite period. 

He could not even obtain his address, and was thus prevented fromcommunicating with him by letter. 

Then he began another wearisome search. Day after day he haunted thestreets of the city. He inquired, he advertised, and used every method hecould think of to ascertain where his darling was, but without avail, for, as we know, she had gone into the country on little Virgie's account, while Mr. Knight was away on a trip to British Columbia, or he might haveseen Sir William's advertisements, and helped him in the matter so near, his heart. 

About the middle of October he decided to go once more to her old homeamong the mountains of Nevada, hoping to learn something of her there. 

But, of course, he did not, and he finally came to the conclusion that shemust have left California after obtaining her divorce. At least he thoughtshe would leave San Francisco, for he knew that there were unpleasantassociations connected with her past life there, and he did not believeshe would like to make her home in that city, where disagreeable rumorsmight still exist. But, still resolving to find her at any cost, he turnedhis face in another direction, and began anew his wanderings up and downthe land. 

Three weary years he spent thus, following every clew, but all to nopurpose. Then, saddened and disheartened he was compelled to give up thechase and return to Heathdale, for his estate demanded his personalattention. 

Mrs. Farnum and her daughter were full of hope, after learning that thedecree of divorce had been granted, that the beauty and belle would atlast succeed in securing the prize she had so long coveted. 

Every art was made use of to captivate the wealthy baronet, but it wasevident that his heart was irrevocably fixed--that he had no intention ofever marrying again. Finally the disappointed girl gave her hand to arich, but aged and feeble lord, and tried to satisfy her heart andambition with the golden husks thus achieved. 

Mrs. Farnum lost her husband soon after her return from America, andafterward made her home mostly with her daughter. But she was far frombeing a happy woman, even though she had everything which unlimited wealthcould purchase. Her conscience never ceased to trouble her for the partshe had played in helping to ruin the life of that beautiful wife andmother whom she had met in New York. She was ever haunted by that sad, sweet face. She had been half-tempted, many times, to confess everythingto Sir William, hoping thus to atone in part for what she had done, andbecause, after she found that Sadie's cause was hopeless, she began topity that poor, injured girl; but her fear of Lady Linton, and also of SirWilliam's righteous anger, prevented her doing so. 

Thus five years passed. 

It was now ten years since Sir William Heath's marriage with Virgie, buthe was still true to the one love of his youth. He continued to cherishher image in his heart, even as he had vowed to do, and though he had cometo believe her lost to him forever, he had determined that no other shouldoccupy the place he had once given to her. 

But about this time something occurred to create a pleasant change in hissaddened life. 

A dear friend of his youth died, leaving to his care his fine, manlylittle son, now in his twelfth year, who had been the pride of hisfather's heart, the comfort of widowered, lonely years. 

Major Hamilton had been in Her Majesty's service for many years, and atthe time of his death was serving on an important appointment abroad. 

During this service he had acquired many honors and great wealth. His wifewas the second daughter of Lord Shaftonsberry, but she had lived only oneshort month after the birth of their only son, Rupert, who was now tobecome the ward of Sir William Heath. 

He was a noble little fellow, and it was not long before the baronetbecame fondly attached to him, and believed that perhaps he had at lastfound, in rearing this child of promise to manhood, something that wouldadd interest and zest to his dreary and monotonous life. 

Lady Linton, who was still at Heathdale, and nominally its mistress, received the orphaned stranger with great kindness. 

He was heir presumptive to the title and estates of Shaftonsberry, ifdeath should remove the present incumbent who as yet had no children ofhis own, and this circumstance, in addition to the great wealth whichyoung Rupert inherited from his father, made him a person of considerableconsequence. 

Her ladyship's mind, with its habitual cunning, leaped forward eight orten years, and planned a union of the houses of Linton and Shaftonsberry, by the marriage of her daughter, Lillian, now eleven years of age, withher brother's ward. 

She argued that everything was in her favor for accomplishing this, forthe children would be reared beneath the same roof, and it would becomparatively easy to educate them to consider themselves destined foreach other. 

Of course this arch plotter kept all this to herself, for she well knewthat her brother would sternly oppose all match-making of this sort; butit became a dearly cherished plan with her, and she bent all her energiestoward its accomplishment. 

Chapter XXVI. 

"I Shall Never Marry Again. "

Virgie returned to San Francisco about two weeks after Sir William quittedthe city. 

Her little girl, now more than two years old, was much improved, and hadgrown to be a remarkably interesting child, while she was of the greatestcomfort to her mother whose every hope was now centered in her. 

Virgie entered upon her work with renewed interest, although she had notbeen idle during the summer by any means. With her pen she had copiednature in every possible phase, and had brought home, for her winter'scampaign, rich treasures of beauty and art. 

She had for some time been engaged upon quite an extensive work, which wasto be elegantly bound, and which promised to be something very rare andunique. 

She threw herself into this with such energy, after her return, and workedat it so steadily and with so much enthusiasm, that Mr. Knight reallybegan to fear that she would overtax her strength. 

From the first he had been deeply interested in the beautiful and talentedwoman who bore her sorrows so bravely and battled so courageously with theadverse fate that had well-nigh ruined her life. He had pitied herfriendlessness, and tried to throw around her a sort of fatherly care andprotection; but as he came to know her better, to realize her strength ofmind and character, and beauty of disposition, a warmer feeling began totake the place of pity and compassion, until, as she grew to confide inand rely upon him more and more, the hope that he might perhaps win her toshare and brighten his lonely home during the declining years of his life, gradually dawned upon him, and he finally resolved to ask her to becomehis wife. 

"I could save her from all this toil, and all uncertainty about thefuture. I would ask no greater happiness than to see her mistress of myhome during the remainder of my life, and then, when I am gone, she willhave all my wealth to smooth her own future. "

Thus he mused while considering the propriety of putting his fate to thetest. 

One day Virgie came into his office to consult with him regarding somepoint connected with her book, and he thought she appeared weary andlooked paler than usual. 

"You are working too hard, Mrs. Alexander, " he said. "Do not applyyourself so closely--there is no need. "

"No need?" returned Virgie; "there is every need. I am very mercenary, Mr. Knight, " she added, smiling "I am determined to make all the money I can, so that my dear little girl may have every advantage by and by. "

"But if you tax your strength too severely you may break down, and thatwould be far worse than not to make money quite so rapidly. "

"I do not think I am going beyond my strength, " Virgie replied, gravely. "Besides, I am much more content when I am very busy; it keeps mefrom--thinking. "

"You ought to be far more than simply 'content, '" answered Mr. Knight, regarding the fair face wistfully, "for you are not only making plenty ofmoney, but winning fame for yourself also. The name of Alexander bids fairto become renowned. "

Virgie started violently at this, and glanced sharply at her companion. Then a burning blush suffused her face, and she said, in a low, painedtone:

"Oh, I hope not! I--I do not wish to be known. I am afraid I have donewrong in using the name at all. I did it hastily, impulsively----"

She stopped, covered with confusion, a look of distress on her lovely facefor having allowed herself to say so much. 

Mr. Knight looked astonished for a moment, while he earnestly studied hercountenance. Then light seemed to dawn upon him suddenly. 

"Pardon me, " he said, leaning eagerly toward her, "but what you have saidhas enlightened me regarding something that has puzzled me since the day Ifirst met you. You are the daughter of Abbot Alexander who disappeared somysteriously from this city several years ago. "

"Yes, it is true, " Virgie confessed, with bowed head and burning cheeks. "But, oh, Mr. Knight, pray do not allow any one else to suspect myidentity if you can avoid it. Put some other name to my books, or put noname at all to them. For my father's sake, I shrink from attracting publicattention to his name. "

"My dear young friend, I fear you are morbidly sensitive I used to knowyour father, and I always esteemed him as a noble man--one whose honor wasunimpeachable. "

"Ah! Then you do not know--"

"Yes, I do know all about that financial earthquake which wrought his ruinand that of many others; but I am sure <i>he</i> was blameless. "

"You judge him, then, more kindly than others, " Virgie returned, almostweeping to hear her father so warmly defended. "There are few, I fear, whodo not believe the very worst of him even now. "

"Doubtless that is true, " Mr. Knight answered, with a sigh; "but I havealways been convinced that that rascally cashier was at the bottom of thewrong. You must pardon me for speaking so plainly. I know that he was arelative, though unworthy the name he bore. "

"But all the papers stated that the president and cashier were in league, "said Virgie. 

"I know it; and at first the affair did have that appearance--at least, such a construction was but natural under the circumstances. "

"But papa gave up every dollar he possessed to right the wrong. "

"I know he did, but the amount was so small, compared with that which hadbeen stolen, that people were skeptical regarding his motives, and when healso disappeared, they were only too ready to believe that he had gone toshare the plunder with the guilty cashier. But I would as soon suspectmyself of a crime as Abbot Alexander. I <i>know</i> that he was an honorableman. "

"Oh, it is such a comfort to hear you say this, " Virgie murmured, hervoice husky with emotion, her eyes filled with tears. "Poor papa! his lastyears were embittered with the thought that every one believed him adefaulter--that he had not one friend in all the world, save his daughter, who had faith in him. "

"He made a great mistake in leaving San Francisco as he did, " Mr. Knightremarked. "If he had remained here and quietly lived down the scandal, hemight in time have recovered the confidence of the people. "

"Oh! if the stain could be removed from his name and memory!" sighedVirgie. 

"I do not like to pain you, my dear, " replied Mr. Knight, sympathetically;"but that would be very difficult to accomplish, unless that cashiershould come forward and make a full confession. "

Virgie looked up, startled, her face growing very white. 

"I saw him here in the city last year, " she said. 

"Impossible!" exclaimed her friend. 

"I am very sure I was not mistaken, " Virgie affirmed and then she told thepublisher the circumstances of her being followed by that muffled figureand of the advertisement which appeared in the papers a day or twofollowing, desiring communication with her. 

"I am afraid that <i>you</i> have made a mistake this time, " said Mr. Knight, thoughtfully. "You ought to have communicated with the man. "

"But I had such a horror of him; I could not believe that he would be ableto tell me of anything to my advantage. "

"At least he could have done you no harm, and he might have told yousomething worth knowing. Promise me, if anything of the same nature occursagain, you will let me know. If he could be arrested he might be forced toa confession of the truth. "

Virgie was greatly disturbed by this view of the matter, and regrettedthat she had not had more wisdom at the time. She readily promised to doas Mr. Knight wished, though she feared she might never again have theopportunity. 

"Now that the ice has been broken, and I know who you are, tell mesomething of your life among the mountains, " said her friend. "I fear itmust have been a very dreary and monotonous one. "

"It was a very quiet and peaceful one, " Virgie answered with a sigh, asshe thought of the storms she had buffeted since. "Papa's claim proved tobe an excellent one, and he made a good deal of money from it; and afterwe became somewhat used to the change in our life, it was not so bad. "

"But all his earnings there had to be sacrificed also. My poor child; whata hard lot has been yours! I almost wonder at your having any faithwhatever in human nature, " said Mr. Knight, feelingly. 

"I am sure that <i>you</i> have proved to me that there is at least one nobleman in the world, " Virgie returned, gratefully. "I shall never forget yourkindness to me, Mr. Knight; you have been a true friend to me. "

The publisher leaned eagerly forward, and gathered her hands in his; herwords had inspired him with hope. 

"Let me be more than a friend to you, dear, " he pleaded. "Let me take careof you and your little one in the future. I know that I am much older thanyou--old enough almost to be your father; but my home is lonely. I lost mywife ten years ago. I have no children, and my heart is hungry for someone to love. Dear child, you have been growing very dear to me ever sinceyou first came to me, and if you can trust me, if you can give yourself tome, I will not ask too much, or even expect that you can feel a great dealof affection for me, for I know how sorely you have been tried anddeceived in that respect; but let me persuade you to come to my home as myhonored wife, and I will surround you with tenderest care. Life shall bemade as pleasant as possible for you, and there will be no need of yourtoiling any more. "

Virgie sat as one stunned after this unexpected proposal. 

She had never thought of anything like this during all her intercoursewith the kind-hearted publisher. She had learned to esteem him very highlyfor his goodness to her, and to look up to him almost as to a father, butthe thought of ever being any man's wife again had never occurred to her. 

She grew very pale at his words, and instinctively shrank a little fromhim. 

That act told him far more than words could have done, and he knew at oncethat his cause was hopeless. 

He gently released her hands, sighing regretfully, while a look of painsettled upon his fine face. 

"Oh! my friend, " Virgie began, as soon as she could find her voice, "whyhave you said this to me? I have not had the remotest suspicion of--ofyour regard and what you have asked can never, never be. "

"Then forget that I have said anything about it, my dear. I would notwound you for the world, " said the old gentleman, with exceedinggentleness, but with a still pained, white face. 

"Oh, please do not think me ungrateful for all your kindness, " Virgiecried, the tears dropping thick and fast from her eyes; "but, believe me, I can never marry again. I feel, morally speaking, that I am just as trulySir William Heath's wife to-day as I ever was, even though the law hasrent the bond that existed between us. I do not feel that a marriage canbe broken except by death. "

"Then why did you appeal for a divorce?" interrupted Mr. Knight, withsurprise. 

"Simply that he might be free in the eyes of the world to make that otherwoman a legal wife--so that she need not suffer such a wrong through me. "

"But she has already suffered it, if what you have heard is true. "

"That may be, but he now has it in his power to do her justice, if hechooses. At all events, <i>I</i> can never feel free to change my condition inlife. My whole future must be devoted to the preparation of my child forthe position which she will occupy by and by, for I am determined that sheshall be acknowledged the rightful heir to Heathdale, " Virgie concluded, firmly. 

"How about the wrong which this other woman and her children will sufferin that case?" asked the publisher. 

"That is something which I cannot help--for which I am in no wayresponsible. If others suffer, that must be Sir William Heath's punishmentfor the wrong which he has done me and my child. "

Virgie was very pale, showing that she felt strongly on the subject, butshe spoke decidedly, as if her purpose was unalterable. 

"I can but own the justice of what you have said, " responded Mr. Knight, adding: "But of course it will have to be as you say regarding the matterof which I spoke. I should have been very happy in providing for yourfuture, and I had built many hopes upon having your presence in my home. However, I will never pain you by mentioning the subject again, and youmust consider me the same friend as before. Come to me with all yourplans, your hopes, and your troubles, and believe that I shall always feelthe same interest in them as ever. "

He arose and held out his hand to her as he spoke, and Virgie could seethat it shook with the emotion which he was bravely trying to conceal. 

Her heart was almost broken for him, for she knew, that his home was verysilent and lonely. There was no one in it save his sister, a maiden ladyof uncertain age, to make it pleasant for him. 

"Forgive me!" she said, hardly able to speak, and with an impulsivemovement she bent forward and touched her lips to the hand extended toher; then turning quickly, she glided from his presence before he couldinterpose a word to prevent her. 

What happened to Virgie, and the final outcome of all her troubles is toldin the sequel to this story entitled "Threads Gathered Up, " which ispublished in a handsome cloth binding uniform with this volume. 

The End.