Virgie's Inheritance Part 19

The opportunity soon came. Sadie had been invited by some friends to spend a week or two at Coney Island, and her mother, fearing if she should be there to witness Virgie's grief when she began to work out her plot, that she might do something to upset her plans, willingly gave her consent for her to go.

On the afternoon after her departure, Mrs. Farnum with a basket of fancy work in hand, went to pay Virgie a little visit, saying she was lonely without Sadie, and had come in for a cozy chat.

The young wife had evidently been weeping, for her cheeks were flushed and her eyes heavy, but she received her guest cordially, and exerted herself to be entertaining.

Mrs. Farnum appeared unconscious of anything unusual although she watched the young wife keenly, and readily surmised what had caused her unhappiness.

She chatted socially for a while on various topics, but after a time laid down her work, and taking up a book from a table near which she was sitting, 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 leaf of 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 her heart 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 not escape 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 of his mother."

Mrs. Farnum a.s.sumed a look of surprise.

"And could not you accompany him?" she asked, as if she thought it very strange that Virgie should not have done so.

"No, my physician would not allow me to travel; the summons came only a short time before the birth of my baby, and he said a sea voyage could not be 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, flus.h.i.+ng vividly.

A blank look came over Mrs. Farnum's face, then she a.s.sumed a grieved expression.

"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 some confusion; 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 she said aloud, in a pitying tone:

"It must have been very trying for you to let your husband go on such a journey 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. Heath was suddenly stricken with paralysis."

Again Mrs. Farnum started, and bent a long, searching look upon her companion--a look that made Virgie feel very uncomfortable and wonder what it meant.

"Is--is she still living?" the woman asked, still regarding Virgie searchingly.

"Yes--at least, she was the last I heard; but her condition was still considered 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 her guest was trespa.s.sing beyond the bounds of good breeding. But, after a moment, 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 have miscarried, and the suspense has been very trying."

"Ahem! Mrs. Heath, there is something very strange--very inexplicable about 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 our acquaintance."

"Did she ever tell you that we know people in England by the name of Heath?"

"No. Do you?" Virgie cried, eagerly, her face lighting as she thought perhaps she might learn something regarding her long silent husband.

"Yes, and they are a very fine family. They belong in Hamps.h.i.+re, and I may as 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 noticed with a thrill of exultation, and then resumed:

"The oldest daughter, who married a peer of the realm, has been my most intimate friend for many years. Sir William, also----"

"Sir William!" Virgie interrupted, catching her breath, face growing radiant.

"Yes, that's the name of the son and heir. I was about to remark that he is a baronet and that it is a singular coincidence that he should also have been here in America while his mother was stricken with paralysis. It is 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's hands in a transport of joy, as she believed she was about to hear some definite news regarding her loved one, "Sir William Heath is my husband--can you tell me anything about him? I have not heard a word from him for more than a month, and I am nearly distracted from anxiety and suspense."