Virgie's Inheritance Part 20

Mrs. Farnum drew back in well-feigned astonishment.

"Child! are you mad? Sir William Heath your husband? It is simply impossible."

Virgie straightened herself, and yet it seemed as if somebody had suddenly struck her a cruel blow upon her naked heart.

Mrs. Farnum had just told her that for years she had been the most intimate friend of Lady Linton and yet to all appearances she had been literally astounded to learn that Sir William was married.

Could it be possible that her husband had never acknowledged her as his wife to his family?

The thought almost paralyzed her for a moment; then she put it indignantly away from her.

No, he had written letter after letter to his mother and sister--at least he had spoken of so doing, though she had never read them--telling of their marriage, and speaking of their return to Heathdale. Of course his friends must have been apprised of all that had occurred during his absence; still it was very strange that the "most intimate acquaintance of Lady Linton" had not been made acquainted with the fact.

All at once, however, she brightened. Mrs. Farnum had been traveling in America also, for how long she did not know, and perhaps that accounted for it. If she did not correspond with Lady Linton she had no means of knowing of the baronet's marriage.

She even smiled to think how foolish she had been to allow such thoughts to 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 am Sir William Heath's wife. We were married last September, and after the death of my father, who was very ill at the time, we traveled for several months and then came to New York, intending to sail for England the last of May, but were forbidden to do so by my physician, as I have already told you."

"Still I say it is impossible. The Sir William Heath whom I mean is the master of a large estate called Heathdale in Hamps.h.i.+re County, England,"

reiterated Mrs. Farnum, decisively.

"And my husband is the master of Heathdale, in Hamps.h.i.+re County, England,"

Virgie said, a trifle proudly.

She resented the woman's incredulity, while she could not forget what she had said about the "unimpeachable honor and untarnished name" of the family. It had stung her keenly, though she did not suspect that it had been an intentional slur upon the shadow resting on her own.

Mrs. Farnum's only reply was a look of increased astonishment, mingled with 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 previous to that time?"

"Lady Linton came to London only three weeks before, to make me a farewell visit. She was with me ten days."

The young wife grew pale.

"And did she not mention the fact of her brother's marriage?" she inquired in a faint voice.

"No such event in connection with him has ever been announced," returned the woman, ruthlessly. "His friends know nothing of it. Sir William Heath is 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 snow as she arose, and going to her writing-desk, brought a letter, which she laid upon Mrs. Farnum's lap.

"There is his last letter to me," she said, but her lips were almost rigid as 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 at Heathdale. The handwriting was familiar, and she knew well enough that Sir William Heath had penned it.

"Mrs. William Heath!" she said, reading the name aloud. "He does not address you as Lady Heath, which is your proper t.i.tle if you are his wife."

"Oh!" cried Virgie, with a s.h.i.+ver of pain, for those last words, implying a doubt of her position, hurt her like a knife. "Neither of us cared to be conspicuous while we were traveling, so my husband dropped his t.i.tle," she explained.

"Ahem! that was a very strange proceeding. But does--does he say anything about coming for you, in this letter?" inquired her companion, who was burning with curiosity to know what it contained.

"You may read it if you like, Mrs. Farnum. I see that you are still in doubt about my being what I represent myself," Virgie returned, with some hauteur.

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 the family and their future plans for Sir William. I'm afraid----"

She did not finish what she was going to say, but coolly drew the letter from the envelope, unfolded, and began to read it, never once stopping to consider how she was outraging the delicacy and affection of the young wife by this act, notwithstanding that she had received permission to do so--She could not doubt, as she read, that the young baronet's heart had all been given to this fair, beautiful woman, for though written in his own dignified way, the letter was full of devotion and loyalty to her. And yet not once in all those eight pages had he called her by the sacred name of "wife." There were all manner of pet names and expressions of endearment, but not a single time was written that word which would have proved so much.

The arch plotter as she read, was quick to observe this omission, and she gloated over it; it would materially help to further her designs in the future she thought, if this letter was a sample of all others which he had written her. She would have given a great deal to be able to have that pretty 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 as she read on, and when at length she finished the epistle, she appeared the horrified 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 alb.u.m 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 be no mistake," she confessed, with a perfectly rigid face. "But, Mrs.--oh, madam--I am simply stunned!"

"What do you mean?" Virgie demanded, standing straight and tall before her, and meeting her eyes with a blazing look which warned Mrs. Farnum to be careful how she dealt with that spirit.

"Pray, be calm, my child," she returned, with a pitiful accent. "Sit down beside me here, and I will explain why I am so disturbed. Good heavens! we have 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 an honorable man, and I will not allow you to say one word against him in my presence."

"Poor child! poor child! I fear you have been terribly deceived. How can I ever tell you!" murmured Mrs. Farnum, in a shuddering voice, and with every appearance of distress.

"You shall tell me instantly. I will not stand here and listen to such paralyzing insinuations. If you have any thing to tell me, say it at once, and do not keep me in this maddening suspense!" Virgie commanded grasping the woman by the wrist, and transfixing her with her blazing eyes.