Virgie's Inheritance Part 13

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

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

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

"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 can express, for giving me this unexpected pleasure," said the sick man, gratefully.

"It was to gratify myself as well. I could not be satisfied unless Lady Heath was arrayed as became a bride of the house," the young baronet returned, with a fond smile, as he noticed how the color came and went on Virgie's cheek at the sound of her new name. "But," he added, putting his arm around her, and raising her to her feet, while with one sweep of his hand he threw back the veil, "I have not yet had the privilege of saluting my 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, almost holy, happiness.

"My husband!" she whispered, as he held her close for a moment, and he felt that henceforth his life would be complete, since she loved him, and was 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 to bid them to the other room, where a really elegant feast awaited them, and where Sir William exerted himself to make the occasion as merry as possible, and all through the day nothing occurred to mar its peace and joy.

The next morning Dr. Thornton returned to Virginia City, carrying in his pocket a much larger fee than he was accustomed to receive; and after that, 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 the previous chapter, in spite of his own predictions and the fears of others that he was dying.

The mild September weather and the quiet happiness which pervaded his home seemed to have a beneficial effect upon him. But as the weather grew colder, as the chill October winds began to sweep over the mountains, a decided change came. Just as daylight was fading one evening, and the dull gray of a coming storm began to settle down upon the mountains, he breathed his last, peacefully, quietly and willingly, and thus all earthly sorrow was at an end for him; he had gone where all wrongs would be righted, where mystery or shame would no longer envelop him.

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

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

The cottage and its furniture were sold; Chi Lu was presented with Sir William's own neat little cabin with all its contents, besides being otherwise handsomely remunerated for all his kindness and faithfulness and then the baronet took his bride directly to San Francisco, which they decided to make their headquarters for the winter, intending early in the spring to sail for England.

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

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

The young baronet, of course, kept all this to himself. He had known well enough that his marriage would be displeasing to his family, who had long had other views for him, but he trusted that, when he should present his bride 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 sweet sake.

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

He did not begin to suspect, however, the bitterness which they experienced when they received the startling information that he had married a girl from the wilds of the far West. His union had followed so closely upon his betrothal that he had no opportunity to communicate plans beforehand, 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 perfect savage from the wilds of America! A pretty mistress for dear old Heathdale, truly. I will never receive her, never!"

"You know what William is, Miriam, and it will not be wise for you to offend him. He will never tolerate any display of arrogance or discourtesy to his wife," returned the dowager Lady Heath, more quietly, yet looking the picture of despair over the mesalliance.

"I cannot help it; it is an abominable insult to all his friends, and never to tell us anything about it until the die was cast!"

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

"Oh, I believe it was all a cunning plan to entrap him and secure the girl a t.i.tle and position," groaned Lady Linton. "How will Sadie feel; what will 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 any one a.s.sail him, no matter how much she might blame him herself. "William has never committed himself to her in any way; that plan has been more ours than his."

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

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

Lady Heath demurred at first at this proposal, but she finally yielded the point, and nothing was said regarding the baronet's sudden marriage, and this was the beginning of a plot to ruin the life of a beautiful young wife, and to bring years of misery upon a n.o.ble man.

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

She had left the city nearly six years ago, when she was an undeveloped girl; she returned to it in the full glory of beautiful womanhood, and owing to her many changes which had occurred there, as well as in her own personal appearance and position, no one appeared to recognize her as the daughter of the unfortunate man who had figured so conspicuously in a terrible scandal there, and then suddenly disappeared covering his tracks so successfully that no one, either friend or foe, knew whither he had gone.

The young wife was very happy in spite of her recent bereavement; her husband was kindness and n.o.bility personified, and left nothing undone that could contribute in any degree to her pleasure, or prevent her from brooding upon her father's death.

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

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

They frequented the opera and theater, attended concerts and lectures, and Sir William was both surprised and delighted to notice how readily Virgie adapted 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 the trip leisurely and visit points of interest along their route.

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

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

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

"It will be simply impossible for Mrs. Heath to undertake a sea voyage at present," he a.s.serted.

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

"If it occupied only three it would make no difference it will not be safe for 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 his beautiful wife to rebel against this verdict.